#I actually Do have a solid idea on how the two actually met for the first time buuut I'm saving that idea for another day hehee

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

I hc that chat lacks self-preservation instincts because Adrien uses Chat as a form of escapism and kinda disassociates from real life, thus making it not truly come across to him how dangerous he is actually being. What are your thoughts on this "theory"/idea/thoughts on why Chat almost kills himself constantly.

Warning! Doyalistic analysis incoming: I think you've put more thought into the topic than the writers have. We're six seasons in and I can't think of a single episode where Adrien's self sacrificing streak was treated as a problem. I don't think that canon even acknowledges that it's a reoccurring issue. Every time he's killed, mind controlled, or otherwise incapacitated is treated like the first time because this is a formula show and you're generally supposed to view every episode as a standalone story even if it often doesn't feel like one.

While I don't like that canon made that choice, I will defend it to a mild extent because I get why it keeps happening. Or, at least, I think I do. My best guess is that the writers aren't viewing the self-sacrificing thing as a serious character beat. They're just using a standard trope and Adrien just so happens to consistently be the easiest character to shove into the role that the trope requires.

The trope in question is usually called the "red shirt" trope and, to save myself some time, I'm just going to quote TV Tropes' to explain what it's all about:

[Red shirts] are the Good Counterpart of Evil Minions and Mooks — set filler for our heroes' side. Their purpose is almost exclusively to give the writers someone to kill who isn't a main character... [Red shirts] are used to show how the monster works, and demonstrate that it is indeed a deadly menace, without having to lose anyone important. Expect someone to say "He's Dead, Jim", lament this "valued crew member's senseless death", and then promptly forget him. Security personnel in general fall victim to the worst shade of this trope, as most of the time their deaths aren't even acknowledged at all; according to Hollywood, you could walk into a bank and shoot a security guard right in the face without anyone making a fuss.

All of the above is why canon consistently lets characters be disintegrated, captured, mind controlled, and so on. These moments are not meant to be serious character beats. They're just there so that the show can raise the stakes for the day's fight.

While the trope is usually reserved for random characters that don't matter, Miraculous tends to use established characters instead because there's a magical reset mechanic which makes negative status effects a temporary issue. It's less the writers calling Chat Noir useless and more them taking advantage of the fact that they can "red shirt" characters that the audience actually cares about. That's a much better way to raise the stakes than red shirting a random character that the audience has never met.

Zombizou is a perfect example of this. That episode sees the entire miracuclass sacrifice themselves, but the message is not that they all have self worth issues. The message is that they trust Ladybug which is the only message canon is trying to send on the occasions when self sacrifice is actively chosen by a character, thus dialogue like this dialogue from Lies:

Cat Noir: There are only two liars left in Paris and one of them knows the ultimate way to catch her attention. Ladybug: No way! Don't do it! What if I fail?! Cat Noir: You know what? I trust you.

Other episodes see the self-sacrifice happen by accident and those don't even get a line about trust. It's just there to raise the stakes.

Of course, that's the Doyalistic explanation. If you want to get Watsonian, then I think your take is a solid one! I just don't think that it's even remotely intentional which is why I would only go Watsonian if you're doing something like writing a fanfic. Don't expect canon to ever address this issue because canon doesn't see it as an issue. It's even one area where I don't judge canon too harshly because this is a really standard trope so I get why they keep using it. Every episode has a fight and you have to do something to keep them interesting! I don't know how you make 130+ fights feel serious without some red-shirt-style moments. That's why the trope exists! It's just the nature of the beast.

My only real criticism is that Miraculous keeps red shirting a character that a lot of the audience understandably views as having self worth issues. That's not a choice that I'd personally make. If Adrien is going to be your standard red shirt option, then don't make him read as depressed and struggling to find his place in the world. Or, at the very least, round robin the red shirt role between the various cast members so that Adrien doesn't stand out in the role! In my opinion, it's yet another case of the writers really not thinking beyond the most surface level implications of their writing choices.

Since you seemed interested, I'll note that my favorite way to address the self sacrificing issue is to have this behavior come from Adrien doing what needs to be done even though he has no desire to die or even just be hurt. After all, Ladybug does need to survive every fight. She's the one with the cure! He's right to protect her! The story doesn't end there, though. Instead of just accepting this, I use it as a way to bring Carapace onto the team because you don't want to just randomly expand the team. Establish a problem, then expand the team to solve it. Ladybug needs to survive every fight and Chat Noir keeps getting hurt? Bring in a human shield. Problem solved!

[fluffs-n-stuffs]

A special colored version of one of my all-time favorite Destiny Bond panels to celebrate Eusine day :} 🎀💕✨

[k9wa]

⟁ PLUMMET. ft BOOTHILL.

⠀ — “swoopin’ in to save me again, sugar plum?”

⚠︎ mechanic!reader (but it isn’t really relevant), i saw boothill trailer and ran to google docs, gn reader (ma’am used once at the end) wc 1k.

“your bounty has been completed!”

boothill could feel the explosion of the ship, even from the distance he was and against the strong winds from his high speed fall. a rush of heat slapped him in the face, leaving a thorough hunger in his gut temporarily quelled.

“how would you like to land?”

the cyborg kept his hat fastened to his head with his palm against the top, eyes briefly glancing down to the city below he was slowly getting closer to plumetting down into.

“…good question.”

the ground was steadily approaching, even if it was gonna take him a solid second or two to actually reach it. he’d never tested if his body could withstand smacking against concrete from— give or take— six thousand feet in the air, but he had a small hunch today wasn’t the day to try his luck. becoming a blue splat on the pavement wasn’t exactly in the cards of his itinerary.

boothill’s eyes looked left, looked right, fingers twirling the rope on his belt. he doubted it’d do much to really help, but it was a start nonetheless. 

he eventually came up with an idea— a totally foolproof idea. loop his rope around one of the street lights when he got close enough, avoid hitting the ground, swing himself back up into the air, and land safe and sound on…wherever the hell he managed to land. hopefully on his feet. 

super simple, super easy. lightwork.

and so he eyed the ground, wrapping one end of his rope taught around his right palm, his left getting the momentum of the other end ready in a smooth swinging motion.

“c’mon now boothill,” he muttered to himself, voice thoroughly drowned out by the wind. “ain’t nothin’ but a lil’ repositionin’.”

he kept falling, getting closer, 

closer…

closer…

almost there…

boothill readied his hand to swing, but the motion quickly became unnecessary when something— or rather, someone— grabbed his wrist, and he was pulled upward with a shocked ‘muddle—!’ before he could test the success rate of his plan.

the cowboy snapped his head up, hat nearly tipping off his head. he was hung like a ragdoll from his arm, feet dangling down below him as his eyes met his apparent saviours—

of course.

boothill’s sharp teeth slowly shone in a wide grin, loud and scruffy laugh echoing into the still rather open air around him. because who else would it have been besides you, your brows slightly furrowed at him from the safety of your little hoverboard he remembered you tinkering with just a couple days ago.

“well fudge me!” he’d slap his knee if the position allowed. “look who it is— ain’t you a sight for sore eyes!” 

boothill reached up for your other hand, you wordlessly met him halfway reaching down, leaving both of your fingers locking around the others wrist.

“swoopin’ in to save me again, sugar plum?”

you shake your head with a sigh, hoverboard beginning a steady descent down. it was a little harder to balance with boothill weighing it down, but nothing you couldn’t handle.

“you’re lucky,” you half scoff. “i’ve got a sixth sense for you being an idiot.”

boothill’s hearty laugh echoed out again, the wind whipping around you leaving his hair tousled and a little tangled. 

“ain’t that the fudgin’ truth,” he jostled your hand a little. he doubted he could really get adrenaline rushes anymore, but this was pretty damn close. “reckon i’d be flatter than a darn hotcake if it weren’t for yer timely intervention!” 

his feet touching the ground were a welcome stabilisation, though the cyborg made no move to release your hand— instead he actually broke into a quick sprint, barely giving you the time to pick up your board as he tugged you along.

“you got somewhere to be or somethin’?”

you asked, stumbling a bit before you got your footing to keep up. you were just so cute when you pretended to be all sore with him.

“you bet i do— somewhere that ain’t swarmin’ with those sorry IPC shirtbags!”

it was a fair point— a giant explosion in the sky of one of their own ships made quite the beacon for attention.

running with him wasn’t so bad, at least. his grip around your wrist was surprisingly gentle, and the smell of him filled your nose in the wind as you trailed behind. some citrus, maybe cedar, and an unmistakable lingering of those phosphorus tracer bullets he chewed on so often. 

you two dipped around a corner, backed against an old brick wall as some heavy footsteps kept running the other way. 

“say, remind me to get’cha a drink later,” boothill gave a small tug to your wrist again, bringing you just a little closer. “as a thanks for all them times y’saved my sorry behind.”

boothill smiled when you chuckled rather than shooing his hand away or giving a smart response.

“you’re gonna have quite the tab going.” you carefully repositioned your hand with his, your fingers lacing together rather than him just holding your wrist. boothill’s eyes could have turned into cartoonish hearts.

“tell ya what,” his hand gave yours a squeeze. “i know a place. it ain’t too far from here, won’t have to worry about no one botherin’ us,” it was quite endearing, the way his voice still held that gentle rasp even as it softened. “i start workin’ off that tab, get a night with you, and heck we’re both winnin’ ain’t we?” 

you hummed at that. it didn’t sound so bad.

“alright,” you nodded. “but let’s focus on you not having to gun down another dozen IPC workers first.”

it was your turn to pull him along with a swift tug of his wrist, resuming your sprint just in time to avoid some more heavy footsteps heading in your direction.

“you weren’t pullin’ my leg about that sixth sense, were ya sweetheart?” boothill fell into a natural step behind you.

“consider this added to your tab.”

“yes ma’am!”

⠀ MASTERLIST / GOT A REQUEST ?

[rosy-hollow]

｡ﾟ•┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ ꒰ა ʚɞ ໒꒱ ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈• ｡ﾟ╰┈➤ @lillycore ⦂ Hey! Can I request something else with Sukuna? Maybe collage au , where Sukuna is in college for engineering, but reader doesn’t go to university and instead focuses on being a freelance artist , but sometimes she sneaks into some of Sukuna’s courses with him? 》 ✐ᝰ YIPPEE MORE SUKUNA!! (sorry i cut out all the parenthesis for space purposes 😭) ｡ﾟ•┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ ꒰ა ʚɞ ໒꒱ ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈• ｡ﾟ

No one’s really sure when you started showing up to Sukuna’s engineering lectures.

As far as most people were concerned, you’d always been there—like you materialized out of thin air and effortlessly became part of the atmosphere.

But honestly, no one minded.

You arrived alongside your pink-haired boyfriend, and the two of you had an interesting dynamic. The two of you being highschool sweethearts, he had mellowed out over the years - most likely because of you. However, you working as a freelance artist gave you both endless time... and absolutely none at all.

While Sukuna was out at university, you’d spend hours sitting in your apartment, sketching on your tablet—a gift from him, of course. You loved it. But, no matter how much you adored your work, being alone in your apartment without quickly grew... depressing.

So, one day, wordlessly, Sukuna dragged you to one of his lectures. Without asking, he pulled out the chair beside him, muttering under his breath that you should “Behave.”

You shrugged, popped in one earbud, and settled in, drawing quietly next to him. Sukuna listened to the lecture and took notes diligently; you? You lost yourself in your art.

It didn’t take long for the professor to notice a new face in his class, though it took even longer for him to realize you were, in fact, not a student. It was when Sukuna casually asked a question about compression ratios that the professor caught sight of you humming softly, your stylus moving fluidly on your tablet.

The professor didn’t know what to do with you. But, honestly, you weren’t a distraction, so he decided it wasn’t a huge deal.

And that was how you became the honorary student in Sukuna’s Solid Mechanics class — despite not having the faintest idea what half of it meant.

It didn’t make you stupid, though.

“And so you see, as per this graph—”

Your hand shot up, and the professor paused, glancing over at you in mild surprise, as if he hadn’t expected you to speak up.

“Yes?” he addressed you calmly.

You frowned a little, twirling your stylus between your fingers. “I think there’s a part of the graph missing in the key... the green squiggly bit? It’s kind of vague about what the graph’s actually trying to show... If I’m out of place, just let me know, but would something like this be better?”

You held up your tablet, showing your version of the graph—redrawn in a clearer, more digestible way.

The professor blinked, clearly taken aback as he read over the graph. He let out a short, impressed huff. “This is quite impressive—did you draw this yourself?”

You nodded sheepishly, and the professor’s expression softened, a genuine smile crossing his face. He tapped Sukuna’s notebook, already prepared to speak to him.

“You get this sent to me, yeah? And Sukuna—” He glanced over at your boyfriend, who was now watching you with that familiar pride in his eyes. “You found yourself a good one.”

Sukuna met your gaze, his lips curling into a small but proud smirk as he leaned in to kiss your temple.

“That’s m’girl.”

A/N: is it obvious i know next to nothing about engineering

[endereies]

When your car stalls you only think of one person to call

Having your car die between the hum of flickering streetlamps that only highlighted the potholes in the road wasn’t exactly your idea of a peaceful evening. Yet here you were, stuck in a side ditch with a dead car that busted a few minutes ago. The evening chill seemed to pick up since you stopped which simultaneously spiked your sense of dread.

You’ve walked away from worse, but this part of town made anyone on edge. In the last few minutes, you’d already seen a group of bikers go past slower than you’d consider appropriate, which made all the wrong parts of your mind tick.

You check your phone, providing the only real brightness for a while. 11:47pm 12%. Well, that wasn’t ideal. Conserving as much battery as possible, you swipe through all your contacts. Calling any roadside pickup was sure to provide questions about the sheer amount of modifications performed illegally on your car and being investigated at midnight also wasn’t ideal.

You could call Angel, but you became painfully aware that she was definitely with Matt – not something you’d like to interrupt. With Matt also unavailable, you couldn’t ask him for a jump start. Your thumb hovered over several other contacts, all with their own reasons for unavailability. Shit.

But ultimately, your thumb lands of Chris’ contact. It was one you saved ages ago when you needed to pay him back for some tools from the garage but other than that speech was minimal. Regardless, you knew he was reliable and that was a better shot than anything else.

Two rings quietly buzzed into your ear. “What’s up.” His voice was lower than you’d heard it before but just as steady.

“My car’s dead and I’m not exactly stuck in a great area…”

“Send me your location. I’m on your way.” No protest has room to fit in the conversation as you heard the tone ring back to you, a sharp beep completely opposite to his voice.

There wasn’t much to do than rest on the hood on your car, shutting your phone off once you saw just how much it had diminished already. Without any distractions, all your senses began to heighten. Even with the chill flowing through the air – it felt heavy.

You shifted your weight against the hood, trying to ground yourself to something familiar. Even as the cold metal pressed on your skin, the engine was still faintly warm beneath you. You checked your phone again. Still off. Still dying. Still no idea if he was actually coming.

Eventually you heard it. The low, classic purr of an engine – unlike any normal car on the road. Turning your head only led to you being blinded by the headlights but it stopped directly behind yours. Your eyes idled on the silhouette shifting inside, then the door opened with a distinct click. The sight of Chris stepping out relaxed you more than you’d like to admit – recognisable.

A black hoodie layered under a worn-out leather jacket was paired with a thick pair of jeans. They didn’t have holes like any other time you saw him, a little oil-stained like he’d come straight from a garage.

You opened your mouth to say something, an apology for dragging him out, but his soft glare made you stay quiet. Your body gently slid off the vehicle, standing back on solid ground.

“You good?” Chris didn’t even look up as he spoke.

“Just cold, and annoyed.”

He responded with a knowing glance – no words. He was good at that.

“Alternator’s dead and your battery is halfway there.” You hadn’t seen him lift the hood and already he had an answer to your problems.

“And that means what exactly?” You met his side, studying your car as if you could also see what was so wrong. But he quickly left to his own car, the boot opening.

“That I have to jump you, but you’ll need a new one.”

His voice hasn’t changed emotion since the phone call and now you’re wondering if it ever changes. Or if he cares enough to try. The boot slamming closed shuts those thoughts off like a kill switch.

“Wait – you brought jumper cables? Who just keeps those in their car?” His eyes stared at you like he was perfectly normal for it. Anytime a manual recommended to keep a select few tools in your vehicle, you scoffed. If it didn’t fit the car, it didn’t belong. Simple.

“People who know things go wrong.”

Chris stepped around the front of your car again, rolling his sleeves up past his elbows. His boots crunched softly against the gravel shoulder – metal clinked as he unravelled the thick, coiled jumper cables. You hovered beside him, arms crossed more for warmth than attitude, watching as he connected the red and black clamps with a practiced ease. You didn’t even have time to feel embarrassed about not knowing which one went where.

“You drive this thing like it owes you money,” he muttered, mostly to himself. “No wonder it gave up.”

You scoffed at his comment, regardless of how true it was. “It’s built for speed, not reliability.”

Chris shot you a sideways look. “So’s a lit match.” There was the faintest twitch at the edge of his mouth, and you realized that might’ve been his version of a joke. You took it.

“Get in. Try the key.”

You obeyed, slipping behind the wheel. The seat creaked under your weight, colder now than it had been before. You turned the key and, for a moment, nothing. Then, the dashboard flickered to life. The engine sputtered, coughed once, and turned over. Alive again.

Chris gave a small nod and stepped away from his car to start disconnecting the cables. You watched him work through the windshield, careful and silent, a ghost under the glow of those flickering streetlamps. By the time he’d packed everything up and slammed his trunk shut, you were out of the car again, arms wrapped tightly around yourself again.

“Next time,” he muttered, voice low and firm, “call me sooner.”

You blinked at him silently a few times. You questioned whether he’d even show up after the phone call and now he was pushing it?. “I didn’t even think you’d pick up.”

“Then think better.”

He looked over his shoulder to you again, checking over more than your engine. The disbelief on your face was masked horrendously, yet, you both knew better than to comment on it.

“Drive behind me, if you stalls, I’ll pull you the rest of the way.”

“Seriously?”

Chris just nodded as he eased back into his vehicle, leaving you standing alone on the roads again. He didn’t wait for any kind of response, not even acknowledging your movements after that. You saw him just adjusting his radio and shoving a toothpick between his lips. You wanted to tell him you were fine, that any more help wasn’t needed. But the unease of being in location made you grasp whatever patience you had left, enter your car and pull out the ditch with a steadying engine.

The neighbourhood drifted by in a smooth blur of closed storefronts and full driveways, eventually opening up to familiar roads. Muscle memory kicked in at this point as your mind silenced for the first time in a while. You weren’t waiting for anything bad to happen, nor was your unreliant car infiltrating your thoughts. Because every time you looked up, his car was always just right there.

He was always right there.

[coveofsecrets]

“𝙷𝚒𝚍𝚍𝚎𝚗 𝙱𝚎𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝙻𝚒𝚙𝚜”

-> Platonic! Yandere! Whitebeard Pirates x reader

-> Warnings: small descriptions of violence, attempted kidnap, implied reader having an abusive family, drugging (didn’t actually happen), tugging on self’s hair, possible ooc-ness since this is my first time writing for Whitebeard pirates

-> Word Count: 4.5k words

-> This was HEAVILY inspired by @rollinouttahere-writes’s vampire Ace au!!! Most of the ideas/hcs(?) here is from them. I just felt really inspired from their au, so I wanted to write this!!! If anything seems historically inaccurate, please let me know! Also, even if it says Whitebeard Pirates, it’s… mainly just. Thatch. I love him too much <3.

─── ✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡��*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

"Eat up."

A bowl is held out to you; one full of thick liquid and solid things, contents sloshing inside of the container as it’s moved towards you.

"I haven't cooked human food in a long time, but I largely remember how to make it, so it shouldn't be too bad."

The person holding the bowl of soup gestures in your way, silently asking you to take it.

Honestly, it doesn't look bad.

In fact, it looks delicious.

Filling, too.

An orange color, bits and pieces of meat and vegetables peeking through the liquid, soup bubbling due to the soup’s warmth…

Your stomach rumbles.

The one across from you tilts his head, lips pulling into a fang-bared smirk as his black eyes raise in knowing mirth.

Despite the aching in your midsection, you look away from the man, pushing the soup away from yourself- a bit too rough, with how some of it has spilled out.

"No thanks," You grit out, poorly concealing your distaste for the vampire. "I… have rations in my bag."

A laugh is all that comes as a response, the soup pushed towards you to the point it invades your vision.

"Not to be rude, but your bag looks near to empty," He points out, "Whatever you've got in there won't last you to the next town."

He's right.

He's right and you know it.

He's right, you know it, and you know that he knows.

The only things being a half-eaten apple and a reusable water bottle in your traveling bag, it doesn’t take a genius to guess there’s not much in there.

...you wanna rip your hair out.

A scowl making its way onto your face, you practically bare your teeth at the one before you.

"So? I have no reason to accept food from you, Thatch. For all I know, this shit could be drugged! Hell, I wouldn’t even be surprised, because all you’ve ever done for me is make my life more difficult than it needs to be!”

Well, Thatch is not the main aspect of your headache.

Rather, he's a part of that problem.

A ginormous, powerful, and vampiric problem.

To frame what’s been going on, it all started a long time ago (a year), in a run-down establishment you managed to find for temporary shelter (a gas station off to the side of the street), where you met a man who had the look of a person with nobody to call his own family (he seemed lonely), standing in wait to sacrifice a part of what was to his name (he was waiting for the customer in front of him to stop arguing with the cashier).

Since you also needed to sacrifice a part of your dignity, you were behind him.

Thus, with the two of you bored, interaction sprouted- quite beautifully, in fact. A stem of a topic took place, leaves of conversation forming, and flowers of bonds blooming.

It was nice.

Ace, as he called himself, was nice.

Being one of the first people you talked to after moving out, that guy was... pretty cool.

A warm fire, heating up your palms and sending its head across your body, letting you find comfort from the stormy winters outside.

Until the fire turned hot, scathing, forcing you to pull your hands back before the skin burned off from the muscle.

"Thirteen?" Ace echoes, "That's a young age to be traveling. Do your parents know about this?"

To that, you stiffen, and the man seems to piece together a bit of your situation, moving on from his question.

“You don’t have to answer that, but… going exploring at a young age probably isn't good for you. Lots of people would love to hurt a young thing like you.”

You sigh, "I know, I know… but, I just… can’t necessarily find anybody to travel with? I mean-” A laugh is forced out of your throat. “I don’t think any other thirteen-year-olds are exploring the world. Plus, l've been fine so far, haven't l? I'm in one piece."

Ace's eyebrows furrow. "Haven’t you been only going around for a month? That's too little time to make any sort of assumption. I'm not saying you should go back to your parents, though.”

Oh.

You feel your shoulders droop.

Well that's nice to hear.

“Then what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that it’s best to stick with a group, for now.” He reaches a hand up, rubbing at the back of his neck. “And assuming you don’t exactly have anybody to travel with, how about traveling with me for a bit? I’ll introduce you to this group I’m with. They’re pretty groovy, been with them for a few decades-”

Decades? This guy doesn't look a day over nineteen.

"-and they’re absolutely wonderful.” As he speaks about his buddies, you notice how Ace’s tone has gotten softer- warm, like the sun retreating into the mountains to offer the people underneath it respite from its fiery wrath. “We’re like a family, always taking care of each other and making sure we’re not too reckless. Pops makes sure it’s that way.”

Pops???

"If you stay with them, you'll be safe. I'm sure they'll treat you nicely. Whaddya say?”

Expectantly, Ace looks at you, a kind smile on his face as he waits for your answer.

The only thing you can answer with is silence, as you ponder his proposal.

The Whitebeard Vampires…?

Vampires??

You've heard about certain groups that go around.

Traveling groups, to be more specific.

Some are wannabe hippies who only do drugs and preach about love and acceptance as a joke, others are dangerous gangs that hurt defenseless people in order to fulfill whatever sick desires they have.

The Whitebeard Vampires, though…

You can vaguely remember hearing about them every now and then; small whispers among townspeople, newspapers bored (usually old) individuals read, and WANTED signs brought up on TV.

So really, all you know about them is that they’re popular, and also illegal- any other information is now up to you to imply.

Vampires... mythical bloodsuckers, right? I don't exactly know what the 'Whitebeard' stands for, but ‘vampire' could imply something more sinister, like blood…

All of a sudden, the smile on Ace's face doesn't look friendly anymore.

No longer the setting sun, it is now the star that rises from the mountains, preparing to enact scathing hot violence for the denizens of its green empire.

Yeah, no. I'm not taking any chances.

Hesitantly, you smile.

"I, uh, appreciate the offer, but I'm good!" Is your answer.

Your newly made acquaintance’s face falls.

You feel as if a mistake has been made.

Before you could remedy the situation, though, Ace is quick to speak.

“Listen,” Your name is huffed out. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to keep on travelling alone. Being absolutely straightforward with you, I’m worried. I mean, any sensible person would be. Imagine seeing some eight year old out by themself- you’d be worried, wouldn’t you?”

“I guess, yeah, but I’m not eight?”

Why is he insisting after I said ‘no’?

Ace sighs, “You’re right. You’re not eight, but to me, somebody who’s a lot older than you, you seem that way- and seeing you all alone, it’s worrying. Staying with the Whitebeard Vampires is the best choice for you; you haven’t been travelling for long, and you’re likely unaware of the dangers out there. You could get kidnapped, or maybe worse. You’re lucky to have been safe so far, but who knows what could happen later? Hell, right when you leave the store?”

This is uncomfortable.

Deciding that turning him down politely won’t work anymore, you decide to be firm in your response.

“Listen, I really do appreciate the offer, but I’m fine. Plus, as much as it was fun talking to you, I barely know you, so why would I join some group I don’t even know about?” As you speak, the previous calm you felt is erased, stress taking over once more.. “You’re making me uncomfortable, and I’d appreciate it if you’d stop.”

The older one’s mouth snaps shut.

For a moment, you feel relieved, but it’s soon burnt away when his expression turns steely, lips spreading into a thin line and eyes narrowing in a way that seems like he’s thinking of something you won’t like.

Before he could say anything, though, the customer in front of him finally, finally stops arguing with the cashier; he’s next in line to come up, and he turns back to the cashier, leaving you relieved that was the end of that.

Alas, God is real and he hates you.

Not even five seconds of stepping out of the store pass when your wrist is snatched and, all of a sudden, you’re being yanked across the street.

Wha-?!

The lights of the gas station blur by you, and you can barely see who is dragging you along in the dead of night.

You’re in an unfamiliar place, with nowhere to go home to, and you don’t even know who has you in such a tight grip.

You don’t know anything.

All these unknown variables, uncertainty in this very situation, unknown whether you’ll live or not, what might happen if you live, what might not happen if you die…

What’s going on-!

Your heart is seized by the cold hand of fear, and you’re not able to even think as a scream rips itself from your throat-

“STOP!”

You plant your feet firmly into the ground, trying to take your hand back from the thief.

Who is-?!

Your thoughts, an intelligible mess of screeching banshees, can’t do anything for you.

They can only drown in the sea of variables, flailing around to grab onto something, only for your thought’s oxygen supply to run out, running on the little rationality it has left.

All you can rely on is your body, activating your flight or flight, forcing your veins to feel as if they are pulsing. They beat and thrum against your skin; begging, pleading with you to escape the muscles that trap them and flee.

Flee, far away from the threat.

Flee, far away from the man who’s kidnapping you.

Flee, far away from…

“Don’t panic, I’m not gonna hurt you. I’ll just take you to see the Whitebeard Vampires, and you’ll see for yourself that it’s okay!”

The voice makes its way into your mind, a clear bell within the roar of screams in your head.

Recognizable, known, recent.

Ace?

His tone, calm and encouraging, does nothing to ease the fear running across your spine- in fact, his tranquility is only making everything worse.

I was right about my bad feeling!

The grasp on your heart only becomes tighter, stomach dropping to the pits of your midsection, vision becoming blurry with the terror you’re supposed to feel.

Uncaring of anybody who might turn to see the spectacle playing in this gas station, a sob escapes your lips.

“No, no, no! I don’t wanna!” You almost shriek, “I don’t wanna see your crew, I don’t wanna! Let me go- LET ME GO!”

Another fruitless yank from your side, another fruitful tug from the other side; you’re almost sent stumbling, having to catch yourself before face planting.

Ace, his voice a bit more rough now, continues to speak against your fright. “It’ll be okay, really! Cmon, just give it a- chance-!”

With a grunt, he tugs on your arm again, and you can’t do anything but follow.

“It’s for your own good,” Your name is said through a bite, “I’ve got food inside, so you’re not gonna go hungry!”

What the hell is he saying-?!

“Does that matter?!” You cry, “Let go, let me go-! I don’t wanna go-!”

Before you could prepare to tug at his arm again, somebody shoves the two of you apart- an old man, you think, coming to your rescue.

He turns, yelling at Ace; the words are unknown to you, as you took the opportunity to escape.

Ever since then, you’ve met all sorts of people from that gang of his.

A samurai looking as if he’s from the Edo period, a doctor dressed as if he time traveled from the Black Plague, and a swordsman seeming like he was there when the British colonized India.

Without fail, when they found you- whether by individuals or them in a group- they have tried to recruit you into the same group Ace is in.

Threatening, coaxing, or storytelling; many tactics were implemented to try and take you in as one of them. The storytelling almost worked on you once.

Grand adventures the Whitebeard Pirates go on; exploring land nobody dared set foot on before, collecting treasure that shines brighter than all of the stars in the sky, and experiencing freedom unbound by any rules or regulations…

If it weren’t for the fact that they seemed like a dangerous bunch, you would’ve joined.

And, also, if they weren’t vampires.

…yep.

Apparently, the name Whitebeard Vampires was meant to be literal.

Whitebeard for the name of their leader, and Vampires for the fact that everybody in that crew is a one of those bloodsuckers.

You learned it from that fancy, British-looking guy a few months back… what was his name again? Vest? You don’t really remember. All you could focus on was the revelation that the mythical beasts you’d wet the bed over as a child were real.

Snapped out of reminiscence, Thatch’s voice brings you back to reality.

“Listen kid, I know that our methods may seem…” The vampire pauses. “Unorthodox, but it comes from a place of concern.” His tone is, for a creature such as him, surprisingly soft.

Almost fatherly.

It… it almost reminds you of, when you were young, how your dad would crouch down to be eye-level with you, gently explaining why you should or shouldn’t do something.

“All we know is that you refuse to go to your home, and we’re not going to question it, but we want to see a kid like you safe and happy.”

…you feel small.

“You don’t know anything about me. You don’t know if I’m happy out here.”

A pathetic defense from you, but Thatch takes it as a real one.

“You’re right, we don’t. All we know is that you’re some kid who’s sticking it out on their own. You could be happy, but my crewmates have noticed how they see you suffering, whenever they find you. Throwing up, blood on your face, or a bone broken… isn’t that reason enough to be worried?”

In front of you, fire crackles, shadows flickering across his face.

Through that dancing, one expression remains clear:

Worry.

“We’re not trying to harm you, kid. We’re just trying to help. I’m just trying to help, especially now. I mean-” A small chuckle, “I don’t think you’re going to make it far with that injury of yours.”

It doesn’t take a genius to guess he’s talking about the nasty gash on your leg, caused by the chance encounter with a humanoid wolf thing.

You bring your leg close to you; a pathetic attempt to hide your injury. “shut up,” you mumble, “I can make it just fine.”

The cook raises a nonexistent eyebrow. “Really?” He leans forward. “Just a few minutes ago, didn’t you collapse when trying to stand?”

To that, you say nothing, letting silence occupy the both of you for a bit.

Soon, Thatch sighs, “Listen, just… take the food, kid. We’re not trying to harm you.”

“How am I supposed to know?”

You feel so, so small.

The man speaking gently towards you, stern yet kind, can’t help but make you feel as if you’re a child learning how to regulate your emotions for the first time.

You hate it.

You hate it so much.

Who does he think he is, treating you like some sort of kid? Some sort of- of- dependent, needing an adult to hold their hand and keep them safe from all the dangers of the world!

You’re not like that.

You’re far from that!

You’re independent, you’re strong; hell, you’re not home right now because of your strength!

So who does he, the man who’s been making everything miserable for you, think he is, huh?!

“Ever since I’ve started travelling…” Your voice, a low growl, soon rises to a yell. “You lot have been nothing but trouble for me! First, I have to deal with randoms trying to kidnap and sell me for profit, then constant injuries ‘cause of falling down and breaking something, and now, I have to deal with you lot?! For the past year, everywhere I go, you guys are always there! All I wanted-” a rough wheeze, “All that I wanted was just to get away from my parents, but you just have to fuck everything up!”

You’re not sure why you’re being so emotional right now.

Maybe it’s due to the throbbing in your leg that’s travelling all the way to your head, or the stress of the trip that’s only built up from its starting point.

Either way, you’ve opened your lips, and now, Pandora’s Box can’t be closed.

“I hate it- I hate it all! I hate how you’ve made everything worse- I hate you! I hate you and your stupid crew, and I’d wish you all would go die!”

If you were in less of an emotional state, you would’ve noticed that the forest has gone quiet due to your volume.

“Out of the frying pan, and into the fucking sun, I guess! First I had to deal with parents who won't respect my basic rights, and now I have to deal with vampires who want to suck my blood?!”

Like a pressure cooker that’s exploding, you continue to yell at Thatch, uncaring of any consequences that might follow.

He deserves it, after all- he and his stupid crew deserves it, for making your life a living hell!

“I thought I’d be happy, y’know! I thought- I thought that after getting kicked out-”

The event is fresh in your mind.

Painfully vivid, you can remember being in the house you’ve grown up in, with your parents in the living room you’re so used to; you all were screaming at one another, throwing things, calling each other names, and exchanging fists until you were thrown out, told to never show your face here again.

No matter how long it’s been, the memory still hurts when you think about it.

Like the tears in your eyes, it still stings.

“-that I’d be fine, that- that I could stick it out. But now… now, I have to deal with everything that wants to kill me!”

At this point, you’re screaming at the vampire.

The horrible vampire, who says nothing as you break down in front of him- who looks at you with such warmth, eyes full of kindness for the screaming teenager in front of him.

The evil creature, who’s lips upturned are nothing if not compassionate, treating your problems as if they are real.

The monstrous thing, whose expression reminds you of your mother’s.

“Not just your stupid crew,”

You violently jab a finger in Thatch’s direction.

“But everything! Faeries, centaurs, and other people, too!”

A sharp pain comes into your scalp.

You’re tugging on your hair.

“I thought- I don’t- I don’t know what I was thinking!”

What am I even saying?

What’s coming out of your mouth, is now indecipherable to your ears.

Covered up and muffled by the heavy weight of your stress, brain muddled by all of it coming to crash down on you all at once, you don’t know what you want to say.

All you do know is that you want to scream.

So you do it.

You scream, cry, and wail at him with all of your might, screeching your grievances towards the monster that dares sit by you, as if he’s your friend!

As if he deserves to act like somebody that has your best intentions in mind, when in reality, all he wants to do suck your blood and then throw your corpse out to the rest of the mythical beasts that exist, letting them rip your remains apart.

He’s no different than those other monsters.

He’s no different than the faeries that try to steal your life, no different than the centaurs that want to make you a flattened mess of broken bones and burst organs, and certainly not any different than the rest of his kind that wants to drain you of your blood.

He’s no different.

So you throw everything you have at him.

You throw all of your insults, your trauma, your stress onto him.

Maybe it’s to make him understand what you’ve been through because of him so that he and his crew stop harassing you.

Maybe it’s because you need somebody to listen to your woes, to hear you out on all that’s been harming you since you’ve started to travel.

You don’t know.

All you know is that by the end of your fit, you’re a mess.

A weak, exhausted, vulnerable mess, able to be toyed with by the demon in disguise.

Yet, to your surprise, nothing happens to you.

Nobody roughly grabs you, hurts you, or even so much as laughs at you.

The only thing that happens is that the smell of soup wafts over to your nose, making an excess of saliva build up in your mouth.

“Seriously?”

Your voice stuffy as you speak, you lift your head up; Thatch is sitting next to you, the bowl of soup held closer.

To answer, the vampire warmly- gently, like a cool rain of shower dabbing your skin- smiles at you.

“That breakdown of yours probably took a lot out of you. It’s good to regain your energy.”

…you hate how much he reminds you of his parents.

Before everything went bad, at least.

When your dad would give you those carefree, easy grins, hoisting you over his shoulders to let you see over seas of people; your mother right next to him, laughing with your amazement of the scenery before you.

You miss them.

You miss them a lot.

Even if it was, in a sense, your own choice and fault you got kicked out, you can’t help but want to go back to your old house.

To experience what was already experienced, to feel the warmth you’ve felt before, and most importantly…

To be loved, like you were once before.

What’s done is done, though, and the actions you’ve taken have led you to your predicament.

Stuck with a vampire, who probably drugged your food so he can kidnap you and suck your blood later.

But…

…For these past few hours, he’s been nothing but kind.

At any moment in time, he could’ve just killed you- snapped your neck and drained you of your blood- with your bad leg and exhausted state, you wouldn’t even be able to run.

Thatch didn’t do any of that.

Throughout your tirade, he smiled kindly at you as he listened, not interrupting once, even when you slandered he and his crew.

Hell, he even made you food.

The vampire, who can’t taste human food, decided to make something edible for you.

He’s from the same crew as all those other vampires, but… maybe you should give him a chance?

Maybe.

Possibly.

…

A quick ‘screw off’ flying off your mouth, you snatch the food from Thatch, contents inside shaking with your hands.

Hopefully it doesn’t take like shit.

He did say he hasn’t cooked this kind of thing in a while…

Hesitation grabbing hold of your phalanges, you have to force yourself to move past it, lifting the wooden bowl up to your lips so the liquid can shyly touch your lips.

…huh.

The broth dances over your tongue, blessing its taste buds with the faint taste of chicken as slides down your throat, soothing the strained muscle with a sweet lullaby, your belly warming up from the gentle fire it carries-

…huh!

This is… this is one of the best meals you’ve ever had!

Mm!

And without a second thought, you scarf the thing down.

Practically chugging the dish, you allow the chicken to go down with little chewing, the other fruits (tomato? Lettuce??) adding a lovely harmony to the lullaby.

Oh, how delicious!

Truly, this is wonderful cooking; cooking that should be brought to the best chefs in the world and praised for its superior taste.

Off to the side, you hear the cook laugh, a ‘slow down, you’re gonna choke!’ leaving him.

You find yourself caring less about his warning.

All you can care about is this dish from the Gods, granting a blessing of survival and flavor to you, allowing you to live and enjoy what you’re eating.

Whatever god out there exists, thank you.

Within too short of a timeframe, you finish your soup. Your stomach is filled and pleasantly warm, your body once again able to produce energy for you.

Yet, all that energy is transferred to the action of closing your eyes, exhaustion washing over your body.

That breakdown you had must’ve taken a lot out of you…

“How was it?”

A hand wraps around your shoulders, and you’re pulled close to Thatch, the person’s chest used as a support pillar for you.

You hum, “It was good…” hands coming up to try and push against him, not appreciating the close contact. “Really good.”

…you can’t… push away.

You’re too weak.

Within the swamp of your mind, something sharp pricks into the mud.

You could be too tired to push away, but… it’s odd.

You have nothing to fight with.

No energy.

None.

The pricking turns into a full-on stab, creating a hole within your consciousness.

I have no energy.

“Why am…”

The words die on your tongue, syllables too heavy to force through your teeth.

Oh no.

This isn’t normal.

The lack of energy isn’t normal.

The way you can barely speak isn’t normal.

The way everything around you has become blurry, Thatch’s face nothing more than a mesh of colors, isn’t normal.

He did something.

He did something.

He did something to your food-

You feel yourself shift, the white coat of the cook all you can see.

He-!

Your teeth grit. “You…!”

“Shh…” Thatch interrupts, “Don’t worry, don’t worry. I’m not… hurt y… didn… ythi…”

What the hell…?

Whatever he’s saying is gibberish from the sea floor of your hearing; all the while black dots slowly accumulate your vision, brain begging to leave the cage of your skull-

No-!

No matter how much you fight, you fall unconscious, pliant to whatever Thatch plans for you.

-

“Damn…”

Looking down at your form, Thatch winces.

“You’ve really been through it.”

Sunken eyes, broken leg, permanently-knitted eyebrows…

How did you manage to live this long?

The cook hums, holding you a bit tighter against himself.

Facing so much danger, all on your own… he didn’t even need to drug your food. You just- fell asleep after eating his untouched cooking, because you were that tired.

And starving, possibly.

…god. He hates that thought.

Though, he supposes that doesn’t matter now.

From now on, you’ll be safe in Pops’ care.

Never again, will you have to think if you’ll have only a singular meal today.

Never again, will you have to worry about whether or not you’ll survive the next day.

Never again, will you have to recover alone from the mortal danger you faced yesterday.

Not as long as you’re with Pops.

[starry-bi-sky]

Childhood Friends Danny and Jason

(cw underage smoking / smoking as a form of bonding) (cw Jason thinking Danny killed himself but its only for a moment) (cw depictions of murderous intent? Danny wants to murder the Joker and he's a little descriptive about it)

Now on ao3 :) (and with a response and a third one)

AND ALSO A REMASTERED VERSION THAT YOU SHOULD TOTALLY GO CHECK OUT BECAUSE I WORKED VERY HARD ON IT.

This is… aha. Massive. Word count check: 9k+

this has probably been done before but hey, everyone loves a good trope and I wanted to share my take on this idea. 👏👏 So, Danny Fenton and Jason Todd being childhood friends. The Fentons lived in Crime Alley for a good long while during Danny's childhood. Nobody wanted to fund their research and Jack and Maddie struggled to keep any form of work for a multitude of reasons. Jack worked in construction due to his big build and Maddie had another job elsewhere.

Danny and Jason were friends during that time, really great friends. I'm not super solid on how they met yet but I do know it involves Danny committing petty crime and Jason deciding to jump in and help when he sees Danny struggling. Danny was distrustful (as all crime alley kids ought to be) but they eventually became thick as thieves, committing petty crime together.

While it's all too easy to make Danny the weaker one of the two with Jason protecting him, I actually really like the idea that they protected each other. Growing up (essentially) on the streets means Danny forcibly had to grow a backbone unless he wanted to get trampled all over. He is just as willing to scuffle with the bigger kids as Jason is, and he and Jason regularly fought each other whenever they needed to let off steam, or just because. They were a duo, having each other's backs in tough situations.

(Sometimes the pair of them would sneak out at night and try and get a glimpse of Batman and Robin while they soared through the air. It was like a game between the two of them to see who could spot the dynamic duo first. When they were a little older, Jason would steal his dad's cigarettes and share them with Danny while they searched for Batman and Robin)

So when Danny has to move away when they're eleven years old, it's pretty safe to say that Jason didn't speak to him for a week afterwards. Nothing Danny did could persuade him to otherwise, even when Danny insisted that it wasn't his fault and that he didn't want to move away either, but he didn't have a choice in the matter.

When the week was over, Jason climbed through Danny's window and sat in his room, dead silent and looking upset. he didn't speak until Danny fished out a stolen pack of cigarettes from his bed and handed one to Jason.

(It was a ritual they had where if one of them was upset about something but wasn't saying anything, the other one could then hand them a cigarette -- whether it be the one they were using or a new one -- and that would be an open invitation for the person to vent. The other one who handed him the cigarette wouldn't speak until the venter handed back the cigarette. Then back and forth it would go until the cigarette was gone.)

Jason ranted about how pissed he was about Danny moving, and they promised to try and stay in touch after he leaves. Neither of them had phones, but Danny was determined to send him a letters.

Danny moves to Amity Park and it's... an adjustment, that's for sure. He's angry, grumpy, upset, and every other negative feeling under the sun. He was going to a new middle school with new people he didn't know, away from all of the people he did know and away from his best friend.

(He does however keep his word about sending letters, and mails one out to Jason at the first opportunity.)

He refuses to get along with anyone, butts heads with the teachers, is combative, rude, and openly smokes in class -- which gets him plenty of detentions and a bad reputation. He speaks in a thick Gotham street accent and wears hand-me-down clothes that are too big and baggy on him. (His parents have yet to replace any of their wardrobes as they settle into their new life, and Danny is hesitant to spend the money to get new clothes.)

He only manages to befriend Sam and Tucker because one of the football kids was bullying Tucker and Danny stepped in. It was some blond jerk named Dash and when Dash threw the first punch, Danny broke his nose. Tucker found him later that day and reluctantly thanked him for his help.

Sam and Danny do not get along for the longest time. Sam questions Danny about his upbringing, his accent, his smoking. She judges him for talking back to the teachers despite doing it herself and for ruining his lungs with cigarettes. Danny tells her to fuck off, and when she tries to judge him and Tucker for not being vegetarian, he calls her a privileged brat.

Sam doesn't even look at him for two weeks after, and Danny refuses to apologize. Tucker is caught between a rock and a hard place as his old friend and new friend are feuding with each other.

They... sort it out eventually.

Danny and Jason send each other letters near religiously. Danny complains about Amity Park, and Jason complains about how Crime Alley isn't the same without him. Danny talks about the school and what he's learned, about Sam and Tucker, and how he's been getting into the astronomy books in the library. He steals Jason a book and sends it to him.

When Jason tells Danny that he was adopted by Bruce Wayne, Danny calls bullshit. There's no fucking way Bruce Wayne would even look at Crime Alley, regardless of his charity efforts towards it. But when he checks Gotham news later that week, he's hit in the face with every single news article announcing Bruce Wayne's newest ward; Jason Todd.

Cue freaking out. Jason talks all about living in Wayne Manor and what it's like there. He says that there's a monster library in a part of the house that Bruce says he has free reign over, and that Jason can have anything to eat as long as he asks Alfred to make it and it isn't a desert, and that he has his own monster-sized room that he got to pick out himself and decorate.

(When they both get phones, the first thing either of them do is add each other's numbers.)

When Sam complains about having to go to a Wayne Gala that her parents are dragging her to one weekend, the first thing Danny asks is if he can go with. It surprises Sam and Tucker; Danny was the last person they would have thought wanted to go with. HE hates the rich even more than Sam does. Danny stands firm in his decision, and refuses to elaborate.

"Besides." He says to Sam, with whom he's begun to get along with via 'the enemy of my enemy is a friend'. "Would you rather go alone or with someone you can tolerate?"

She brings him with and convinces her parents to allow Danny to come along, citing that she'll be on her best behavior if they do. They agree, and buy Danny a suit when he says that he doesn't have one of his own.

(He discovers that he hates wearing suit jackets and ties, but vests he doesn't mind. He doesn't like that he has to comb his hair back, but he does to make Sam's parents happy. They give him a crash course in etiquette that Danny's going to forget the next day, and soon enough off they go in a private jet to Gotham)

(he does not tell Jason he's coming.)

he feels mischievous and nervous as they touch down, his stomach swirling as Sam's parents usher them to a high-profile hotel that Danny's only ever dreamed about going into. He feels largely out of place as they walk through the lobby, and falls back on old habits: square shoulders, set jaw, make yourself look like the biggest person in the room.

They get ready in the hotel room, Sam's parents primp and preen for the night incoming, and Sam is dragged into it by her mother. Danny does only what's required of him, and fiddles with the sleeves of his fresh-ironed button-down that's been tailored to his body. He's itching for a cigarette, and didn't bring any with.

Sam's dad helps him with his tie, a bout of kindness that Danny doesn't think is one. Just obligation to prevent Danny from looking like a mess. Sam pesters him again about wanting to come, and his reasons for it, and Danny keeps mum.

He's stone-faced with anxiety as they get closer to the gala, and before they leave the limousine the Mansons rented Sam links arms with him. A form of solidarity that Danny needs as he squeezes their arms together and smiles weakly at her.

The paparazzi are loud, bright, and demanding, shouting questions over questions at them like overlapping tidal waves. Danny ignores them all and focuses on the front doors instead. Sam's parents whisper at the stairs that they are to greet the Waynes first, and Danny's heart leaps to his throat.

His heart is in his ears as they drift closer, Mister Wayne is preoccupied with another rich couple, smiling that charming billionaire smile that Danny saw on every billboard in Gotham, and then some in Amity Park. Getting so close to him feels unreal.

And there by his side is the one and only Jason Todd, who isn't even trying to hide the bored look on his face as he watches Bruce interact with the other adults. He's gotten taller in the year they've been away, and healthier. His hair looks like its been cut professionally and he doesn't look as street kid skinny.

Danny's arm, hooked with Sam's, tightens up, and he resists the urge to rush forward and hug Jason. He watches Jason's eyes sweep left, away from him, and then right, towards him. The air stills for a moment as their eyes lock.

Danny grins toothily at him, lopsided and playful in nature, and sees the moment Jason processes the sight before him. His arm starts slipping out of Sam's at the same time as an ecstatic smile stretches across Jason's face.

His lopsided grin fills out on the other end. "DANNY!" Jason yells, cutting off whatever Bruce Wayne and startling everyone within earshot. There's barely a moment for Bruce to look down when Jason shoves past him and runs at Danny.

Danny yanks his arm out of Sam's, "JASON!" He yells with just as much enthusiasm, and Jason nearly topples them right over when he collides with Danny. His arms wrap around Danny's shoulders, holding onto him tightly, and they're both laughing, spinning around like tops out of joy.

"You didn't tell me you were coming!" Jason cries, sounding accusing. Danny hugs him just as tightly, and laughs when Jason pulls away momentarily to punch his shoulder.

"I wanted it to be a surprise!" He defends, laughing between words as their spinning comes to a stop. They're both reluctant to pull apart, but they do and clutch the sleeves of their elbows tightly. "How could my best friend be adopted by the Bruce Wayne and have me not come confirm it with my own two eyes?"

"I sent you newspaper clippings!" Jason says, narrowing his eyes while his smile betrays his face. Danny quietly notices that his Gotham street accent is faded slightly.

"Oh that's what it was?" Danny's grin turns again, edging into a smirk. He feigns innocence, "I thought that was fire kindling." He has the newspaper clippings hung on the corkboard in his room, proud beyond words about his best friend.

Jason punches him in the shoulder again, hard enough to leave a bruise. "You jackass." He says, ignoring Danny's laughter even when he's holding back his own.

There's a soft, sharp clearing of someone's throat, breaking their attentions away from each other to the one that made the noise.

Bruce Wayne was a tall man, taller than Danny expected, and he looks exactly like his billboards. If less promiscuous than his perfume ads. Danny expects him to be upset with them both for disrupting his pretty rich gala, but instead he just looks gently amused, with an arched eyebrow. Overall though, he just looks fond.

Danny would be the first to admit that Bruce had taken in Jason as a charity case, something to fill the void after his other kid Dick Grayson finally moved out. But Danny’s a good judge of character — or he likes to assume he is — and those are not the eyes of a man who would take Jason in as a charity case. Those are the eyes of a man who actually, genuinely, cares about one Jason Todd.

The wriggly protective thing settles in his chest.

He doesn’t let go of Jason, but he does twist his smile into something a little more polite. Mister Wayne’s eyebrow arches higher, and he turns his blue-blue eyes onto Jason. “Who’s this, Jason?” He has that fancy Gotham Elite accent -- something that sounds like a mix between old transatlantic and faintly British -- that Danny's only heard in passing when he and Jason snuck up to the nicer parts of Gotham.

Jason stares at Mister Wayne, his grip on Danny tightens as his eyes flick to the other onlookers in the room. “This is Danny, B.” He says once his eyes turn back to Mister Wayne. “We grew up in Crime Alley together, he moved to Illinois last year."

Danny can see the uncomfortable expressions cross every rich person's face, murmurs sweeping across the room as soon their uncomfortable gazes turned judgmental and flinty. He's kept track of the tabloids after Jason's adoption, the ones calling him a charity case and looking down on him for being a street kid.

He inches a little closer to Jason, straightening up instinctively, as if they were back in Crime Alley and facing a pack of kids that didn't like them. He can see Sam's surprised expression from the corner of his eye -- he never told Tucker or Sam about where he grew up, although he's sure they had their suspicions.

He looks back to Mister Wayne and meets his blue-blue eyes, his smile has slowly begun to fade. Mister Wayne doesn't miss a beat however, and his smile stays plastered to his face. If anything, it gets a little softer, a little wider. "It's nice to meet you Danny -- Daniel? I'm so glad that Jason has a friend here." He holds out a hand.

Danny eyes him unsurely, and then takes his hand. "It's jus' Danny, Mister Wayne." He says, some of his old accent slipping through as he shook his hand firmly. He would have done it harder, but this was Jason's new guardian, and from Jason's letters he didn't sound too bad. "It's, uh, nice to meet you too. Jason's told me lots about you."

Mister Wayne's brows jump momentarily, he looks intrigued. He looks between Danny and Jason, and claps his hands together softly. "Well, Jay, how would you like to stay with Danny for a while, hm? I'm sure you too have a lot to catch up on."

Hope simmers in Danny's heart, and he glances to Jason to see that same hope on his face. "Really?" He asks, and Mister Wayne nods with a laugh.

"Of course! How could I keep two friends apart? Go on ahead, chum. I'll come get you when the gala ends."

And just like that, Bruce Wayne leaves Jason with Danny, diving back into a conversation with one of the rich gothamites and taking the attention with it as if he were the sun and everyone else a planet orbiting him.

Danny and Jason share grins, and throw their arms around each other with laughter. Danny is on cloud nine, pressing his nose into Jason's shoulder and breathing him in, fingers digging into the back of his suit hard enough to leave wrinkles in his jacket.

Sam demands answers when they finally, for real this time, pull apart. Why didn't he tell her that he was friends with Jason Todd!? Danny slings his arm around Jason's shoulders and keeps him close, and tells her that it was because he wanted it to be a surprise.

Sam's parents have unreadable expressions on their faces, part greed -- Danny is their in to the elusive Bruce Wayne -- and part disdain -- a Gotham street rat. Danny ignores them, they're unimportant in the grand scheme of things.

He introduces Sam to Jason, and Jason to Sam. And off they go to a corner of the room near the buffet table where they can eat and shit talk everyone else in the room in peace.

At some point in the night Sam is called back to her parents to meet some other fancy rich kids her parents want her to get along with, and Danny and Jason go off to the west end balcony to avoid anyone who may try and approach the new Gotham ward.

Danny hops up onto the balcony railing, kicking his feet as Jason pulls a cigarette pack out of his inner jacket pocket, and grins. "Don't tell Bruce," he says, handing the box to Danny first. "He's been trying to get me to quit."

"Hah!" Danny takes one just as Jason slips out a lighter. "That sounds like Jazz. She's been trying to get me to stop since we moved to Amity." Granted, she's been trying ever since she found out before they moved, but now she was even more insistent. "She hasn't found my stash yet."

At the end of the night when the Mansons are leaving and Danny has to leave with them, he walks back to Mister Wayne with Jason to tell him that he's leaving. Mister Wayne mourns his going, and tells him that he's always able to come visit.

"Any friend of Jason's is always welcome to the manor." He says with a blinding grin, pulling Jason close to his side and squeezing him tight. Jason's nose scrunches up, but he doesn't push away.

It becomes a new routine for them. The Mansons are all too happy to bring him with to the Wayne Galas (of which they start receiving more invites to due to their connection with Danny) and Danny is all too happy to spend the evening with Jason again. No matter what, they always end up on the balcony at some point in the night.

And, eventually, Danny is invited to stay at Wayne Manor either for a weekend or for a break. He jumps at the chance when winter break rolls around and his parents start their debate over Santa Claus again.

Danny and Jason stay up late into the night talking or playing video games during their sleepovers, and in the warmer nights they climb out and onto the roof to stargaze. Danny points out constellations - - things he can find in neither Gotham or Amity -- and rambles on and on about space.

There are plenty of times during the Wayne Galas that the event gets attacked by a rogue. More often than he'd like he loses Jason in the crowd, and has later stopped Robin or Batman in his panic to find him.

The first time it happened, he was in tears with terror. He grabbed onto Batman's cape, stopping the man from going back in as he babbled that his Jason Todd was still inside, that he disappeared during the chaos and he couldn't find him. Batman took his hands and calmly told him that he'd find Jason for him, and that he was sure he was okay, but he needed to calm down.

He found Jason later once everything had calmed down, and he screamed at him for disappearing during a rogue attack, if he ever did it again he'll kill him. Then he cried.

The second time it happened, Danny didn't even realize that Jason was gone until everything was already over. They'd been separated before the attack happened. He stopped Robin and Batman before they could leave, trying to keep his breathing under control as he asked again, if they had seen Jason Todd.

"That- that asshole keeps fucking ditching me when these things happen." His voice has an embarrassing wobble in it. "Please-- please tell me you've seen him, that he's alright."

Robin this time steps up to reassure him, that Jason Todd was out of the building. He got him out. "He's probably looking for you too, uhhh..."

"Danny" Danny says, and eyes him up and down. "You're the new Robin right?"

Robin stilled up, and Danny could understand it a little. He'd seen the thoughts on the new Robin online. He wasn't very popular at first. Robin nods curtly, and Batman was shuffled a little closer to him, almost protectively.

Danny grins at him. "Cool." He says, "Me and Jay used to sneak out onto the rooftops sometimes to try and spot Batman and the first Robin, we made it a game." He holds out a fistbump, "Thanks for doing what you do, man. I might not live in Gotham anymore, but I mean it. You're a living legend."

Robin looks like there's something stuck in his throat, and after a beat he returns the fistbump tentatively. "Th- uh, thanks." He stumbles out awkwardly, and then turns away, "Me and B- uh, better go."

Before Danny could even respond, Robin already had his grapple in hand and was grappling away. "You too, Batman." Danny says before Batman can follow.

When Danny sees Jason after that, and weight lifts off his chest and he hits him in the arm again. And then complains that he should have gotten Batman and Robin's autograph, it would have been epic.

By the fifth time it happens, Danny is cussing up a storm when Robin saves him, cursing out Jason and claiming that he needs to put that boy on a fucking leash. "We're a duo!" He scowls when Robin gets him outside, "I got his back, he has mine! I can't have his back when he's got no back to fucking have."

The eighth time it happens, Danny gets held hostage by one of the henchmen. He's become a recognizable friend of the Waynes, and when the Waynes are nowhere to be found, then the next best thing was up to offer. Danny isn't even mad this time around -- just relieved that Jason was fucking off somewhere where he couldn't get hurt.

Robin, however, seemed furious when he arrived, and broke the hostager's jaw with a single flying kick to the face. Jason found him rapidly quick soon after the situation had settled, and apologized over and over again.

Danny slings an arm around his shoulder and laughs that it was fine, Robin saved the day! His legs were shaking with the worn off adrenaline, something he tried to hide from Jason. "I'm just glad it was me instead of you, Jay." He grins. Jason looks like he swallowed a toad.

Jason stops disappearing as often after that, sticking close to Danny's side until the attack was over.

When Danny is fourteen, Jason dies, and his world unravels.

He calls the manor on a late night in April after Jason had stopped responding to his texts. Danny knew that Jason was just recently in a fight with Bruce, but he knows that Bruce loves Jason. He would know where he is, right?

When he calls, Bruce answers with a hoarse "hello?" as if he'd been crying all day, and Danny's blood turns to ice. The anxiety he'd been feeling beforehand doubles in size, and he feels himself stammering.

"Mister- uh- Mister Wayne? Um, I'm calling because Jason--" he hears Bruce inhale sharply on the other line, and his anxiety skyrockets into fear. "--hasn't been answering any of my texts and- and I'm gettin' real worried."

There's silence on the other end, and Danny feels a rock forming in his throat, gross and heavy like he was on the verge of throwing up. "Mister- Bruce? Mister B?"

There's a shaky breath, and then Bruce's voice crackles through the phone. "Um-- Jason, he, he's--" there's a sound like rustling, "he's been killed."

Danny's vision whites out with skyrocketing terror, his mind skidding to a stop. His body rapidly grows hot, and then chills, like a blacksmith striking a heated weapon. "What?"

When the phone call ends, Danny screams himself hoarse. Jazz and his parents come running into his room, his parents equipped with ghost weapons. Instead, they find Danny curled up in his bed, sobbing hoarsely.

Danny almost -- almost -- refuses to attend the funeral, nearly paralyzed with grief. Jazz coaxes him to go, to find closure if anything else, and he drags himself out of bed to go.

He feels numb the entire time. It's closed casket, so he can't even see him for one last time before Jason is buried in the ground. He's silent, and if he think he looks bad, then Bruce looks even worse, like he hadn't slept since Jason died and worse.

Danny grabs his sleeve before he leaves, and when Bruce turns to him with a dull look in his once vibrant eyes, he clings to him tightly. And cries. Bruce clings back just as tight, Danny feels tears drip into his hair.

"Who did it." Danny whispers, voice too hurt to speak any louder, when he pulls back. His fingers curl around Bruce's jacket tightly, desperately. His eyes hurt with tears. "You said he was murdered, B. Please, who did it."

Bruce looks down at him, and for the first time it really does feel like he's looking down at him. His face is blank, and his eyes close in grief. There is no answer, a silent no.

Danny's face twists up all ugly like, and he shakes Bruce's jacket. "Bruce, please. Tell me who did it."

Bruce refuses, his face full of grief.

Danny never returns to Gotham.

Prior to Jason's death and post their reunion, Danny had slowly begun to improve in school. He started caring more, he was putting in more effort, he was doing his homework and was actually enjoying class. There was the bullying from Dash and the A-Listers, but it wasn't anything he couldn't handle, he was ignoring them for the most part.

Come Monday after the funeral, and Danny breaks Dash's nose when he starts up with his shit. He withdrew into himself, and it was like he was back to square one again, except this time it was much worse.

Everyone knew Danny was close friends with Jason Todd. So when news of his death finally reached the ears of Amity Park, the students of Casper High School kept their distance.

That following Friday, Danny dies in the portal and comes back. A month later he becomes Phantom, the ghost-fighting ghost. the ghost Phantom wears his hazmat suit partially undone, showing a tanktop he didn't wear in death under the initial suit while the sleeves are tied around his waist. Vicious, glowing lichtenburg scars travel up his arm and neck and torso, covering half of his face while a pair of scientist-like goggles covers his eyes. He's bitter and angry, showing off his death.

Look at me, Phantom's form says, I am a dead child. Look at me look at me look at me. Mourn me. I am a dead child. LOOK AT ME. MOURN ME.

A few weeks later he enters the ghost zone and realizes that he could find Jason. And he spends a weekend scouring the ghost zone for him. He finds Gotham in the zone, and rather than finding Jason, he finds Robin.

Danny didn't know he'd died. And he flies towards him, asks him if he's seen Jason, reveals that it's him, Danny Fenton. Robin stares at him, mouth agape, and peels off his mask to reveal Jason Todd.

They both cry, and when Danny tells him how he died, Jason looks pale in the face. "You didn't- you didn't kill yourself because of me, did you?"

Danny fervently denies it. No, no. He didn't, he didn't. It was an accident. Totally unrelated. But enough about that, what the hell happened? Bruce wouldn't tell him anything at the funeral.

Jason clams up, his ghostly face losing its color, and Danny curses himself. He tells Jason that he doesn't have to tell him, he doesn't have to say anything. They sit in silence.

"It was the Joker." Jason says.

That's all Danny needs to know. He nods quietly. 'I'll kill him.' He thinks to himself, a stubborn set in his jaw. "Okay."

It had always been a plan; a thought wriggling in the back of Danny's mind ever since Bruce told him that Jason had been killed.

Not died. Killed.

Danny wanted the fucker dead the moment he realized it. He just needed to know who did it. He thinks Bruce knew it too, could probably see it in his eyes the moment Danny asked him who did it. He isn't sure if he should hate Bruce more for keeping it from him now.

They spend hours together, just soaking in each other's presence. Danny tries to take him through the ghost portal, to bring him back to the land of the living. But much like Kitty, Jason's form is tied to the zone. Danny promises to visit every day.

And he does. Or he tries to. The grief doesn't go away, but with the comfort of knowing that Jason was on the other side, Danny feels a little better. He tells Jason about being Phantom, and Jason helps train him. It feels like they're kids again and are fighting just because they want to. Its a bout of familiarity in a place that feels unfamiliar. All they need are cigarettes.

And then six months later he loses him again. Danny scours the ghost zone for him for the second time, and this time he doesn't find him.

His haunt is still in the zone though. He didn't move on. He's still here, somewhere.

Danny is convinced that Jason was in the Elsewhereness, and looks for him in between ghost fights and his social life. He visits Jason's haunt every day, knowing that Jason should be able to feel when another ghost enters his home. He does not show up.

(He never thinks that Jason came back to life, and Jason doesn't remember his time in the ghost zone)

When Danny is nineteen, Vlad Masters blackmails him into going to another Wayne Gala. Begrudgingly, Danny goes. He's taller than he used to be, having inherited his dad's monstrous height and his mom's leanness. He has piercings, some of them he got after a lost bet from Sam and Tucker, and he's given himself an undercut.

He still prefers vests over suit jackets, and he still smokes. A little less than before, he sneaks a pack into his pocket before he leaves, along with a lighter. Vlad gives him a dirty look the whole time - he knows.

"Don't give me that look." "That stuff kills, you know" "I'm already dead."

It's like deja vu when he arrives; an awful bout of deja vu, that is. The paparazzi is still as bright and loud and annoying as it always was, and they don't recognize him at all. Something he thinks of as a soft mercy up until one of the reporters asks Vlad who he is.

Vlad smiles and tugs Danny into the camera frame, "Why, this is my godson!" He crows, and shoots Danny a look that is downright smug I'm sure many of you may know him as Daniel Fenton?"

If looks could kill, Vlad would be ash. Danny isn't quite sure why he still agreed to this -- blackmail or no. He felt itchy being in Gotham; jumpy. He's never forgotten his vow to kill the Joker, in fact it was something he still desperately wants.

But the threat of Rath, the name he chose for his evil future self, haunts him just as much as his murderous intent. If he kills the Joker, would he stop?

Danny's almost afraid of what he'll do if he ever lays eyes on the Joker in person. He doesn't think he'll be able to stop himself from wrapping his hands around that stupid clown's neck and watching the light leave his eyes.

He pushes the thoughts to the side, and smiles lopsidedly as cameras and microphones flood his face, reporters yelling over themselves as they clamor to get a shot of the old Wayne family friend.

Danny turns and walks inside without answering a single question, flexing his fingers in and out of fists. Vlad gracefully hurries after him, and Danny can hear his glare burning into his back.

"You told me to come," Danny hisses to him once he's beside him, meeting Vlad's gaze piercingly, "not that I should play nice."

"Don't embarrass me, Daniel." Vlad hisses back, trying to look the upmost calm as eyes turn onto them. "I'll make you regret it."

"You embarrass yourself, fruitloop." Danny shoots back, walking away before Vlad could get a retort in. He sees Bruce Wayne on the other side of the room.

His heart seizes with nostalgia. He hasn't seen Bruce since Jason's funeral, hasn't spoken to him either. He doesn't know how to feel about him, but he'd been keeping tabs on Bruce both as himself and as Batman.

Danny's feet carry him forwards before he can think about it, silently weaving between the throng of rich people vying for his attention. It's only when he gets closer does he see the little shadow clinging to his side: Damian Wayne.

The newest little bird, Danny realizes, and stifles a smile at the surly expression on Damian's face as two older women coo over him. He reminded him of Sam, who had long since stopped coming to these things the moment she was able to.

The feeling of eyes on him turns Danny's attention away from Damian, and instead finds them back on Bruce's, who stares at him with a little furrow between his brows. As if he recognized him, but he wasn't sure from there.

Danny grins crookedly the moment he's within earshot. "Mister B!" He exclaims, slipping into what remained of his Gotham street accent. Recognition flashed in Bruce's eyes, and the man smiled widely. "Long time no see, old man."

"Danny," Bruce says, his name breathing out like relief. He slips between the crowd surrounding him -- who are now watching Danny -- and pulls Danny into a close hug. "It's good to see you again."

Danny hesitates for a moment -- he wasn't expecting Bruce to hug him -- and returns the gesture. "It's good to see you too, Bruce." He admits. Bruce was still using the same cologne that he did when Danny was a kid. He blinks heavily.

He pulls away quickly, clapping Bruce lightly on the shoulder as Damian quickly latches onto his father's side again. Damian glares daggers at him, fingers digging into Bruce's pantlegs like a possessive little kid.

He made Danny's ghost sense tingle in the back of his throat, creeping up slowly like a spider before stopping suddenly before it reached his mouth. It hummed, and then disappeared.

Danny smothered a frown. Since when did Batman work with ectoplasm? “This must be Damian." He says to Bruce, and holds out a hand to Damian -- he doesn't crouch, he had a feeling that Damian would be less than appreciative if he did that. "You've really expanded the nest since the last time I saw you."

Damian's eyes narrow at him. Bruce laughs lightly, "Ah yes, Tim is around here somewhere. I'm sure you'll see him soon."

"Father," Damian says, his voice layered with an accent. He glares up at Danny with piercing green eyes. "How do you know this man?" He sounds distrustful, Danny respects that and drops his hand.

"This is Danny Fenton." Bruce says, and Danny lets him introduce him. "He was Jason's friend."

An expression similar to bewilderment flashes briefly over Damian's face, and he eyes Danny in disbelief. "Todd had friends?"

Oh. So that's how he wanted to be. Bruce had a little elitist on his hands. Danny's smile drops like a deadweight, and any lingering endearment he had hardens like ice in his chest, fury slowly taking its place like a flickering candlelight. "It's not polite to speak ill of the dead, Mister Wayne." He says coldly, his voice made of chips of ice.

Damian blinks, the disbelief disappearing from his face. The closest thing to a recoil Danny thinks he's going to get. He doesn't care. No one speaks about his best friend that way.

"I grew up with Jason, actually." He continues, breathing in slow and deep, trying to keep the ghostly possessive-protective-rage under control. "I was his best friend."

He turns, almost robotically, towards Bruce, and tries not to look so angry. "I'm going to go find Tim, Mister B." He says, and tries to offer up a weak smile for the man. It comes out as a grimace instead.

"And..." he pauses, flicks his eyes towards Damian, and then looks at Bruce. "I'll... try and keep in contact, B. Tell Dick I said hi, alright? I'll see you in a little bit."

Bruce nods, looking vaguely disappointed and sighing slow through his nose. Danny walks away as Bruce turns to address his youngest, and doesn't bother listening in on what he has to say.

He does, eventually, find Tim Drake. He spots him in a crowd instantly - it's hard not to, and he makes his way over to him. He's not sure Tim Drake would recognize him, Bruce didn't at first and Danny had been around him constantly.

Except Tim Drake does recognize him, much to Danny's surprise. They lock eyes and Tim immediately makes his way over to him. "Danny Fenton!" He says and stops in front of him, "What a surprise, we weren't expecting you tonight."

"Tim Drake," Danny replies, smiling a little as his earlier hurt begins to fade away. "I'm surprised you know me."

"There are pictures of you in the manor with Jason." Tim explains, stuffing his hands into his pockets with an easy-going smile. "It's hard not to know you."

"It’s hard not to know you too,” Danny retorts, a sly smile slowly spreading across his face. “Although you’re a lot taller than you used to be, when you were lurking around Bruce and Jason and I.”

Ohhh Danny recognizes him alright. One part due to all the news articles and tabloids on him after he was adopted by Bruce, and the other part because he remembers the little shadow lurking near plants pots and table legs that used to follow him and Jason around at galas just like these.

Knowing that Jason was Robin, he wonders if Jason knew he was there too.

The effect is immediate: Tim’s eyes grow comically large, and a red tint glows at the tip of his ears as he shrinks back like a turtle trying to hide into its shell. “You— you noticed that!?” He hisses.

“I did!” Danny grins, large and wide, stifling a laugh as the red tint spreads over Tim’s cheeks and nose. He looks mortified. Danny coos. “Aww, I thought it was adorable that Jason had a little shadow. I’m sure he would have loved you if you had just come over and said hi. He had a big soft spot for kids.”

Tim snorts and it— it almost sounds derisive? “Sure he would.” He looks sad, and the mirth in Danny’s chest shrivels up like a flower without light. The smile fades from his face, and all that’s left is a strange, staunch reminder that Danny and Bruce weren’t the only ones that probably mourned.

He touches Tim’s shoulder lightly, “Hey, I’m sorry.” He says, trying to look as apologetic as he feels. “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. I’m sorry, I miss him too.” Like a fucking limb he missed him.

There’s something that flickers in Tim’s eyes, passing through too fast for Danny to realize what it is. He assumes its gratefulness, because Tim relaxes a little and offers him a weak little smile. “I wish I had talked to him.”

Danny sees an out and takes it, he forces out a short laugh, grinning widely. “I can tell you all about him if you’d like,” he offers, “I told Mister B I’d keep in touch anyways. I’ve missed him and Alfred quite a lot in the last few years.”

“Not Dick?”

“That dipstick wasn’t around often enough for me to form any sort of emotional attachment to him.” Danny says in a half-complaining tone, placing his hands on his hips. “Although I did like his puns.”

Tim snickers, “I’ll tell him you said that then. Nobody likes his puns.”

“Go on ahead,” Danny grins, laughter swirling in his chest and making his core thrum with warmth. Damn, he’s missed this family. “I stand by my decision. Puns are funny.”

“Let’s get a photo then.” Tim says with a hand already fishing in his pocket for his phone. “He’ll be devastated to know that you were here and he didn’t get to see you.”

“Sure.” And Danny sidles on next to Tim, throwing an arm around his shoulders — and making a noise of surprise when his arm was able to fit comfortably — as if he was just resting it on a counter.

He totally forgot how tall he was compared to Tim. Forgot that he’d been looking down the entire time they’d been talking. “Why’d I get my dad’s height.” He complains, and bends his knees as Tim raises the phone with the front-facing camera on.

Tim snickers under his breath, and takes the picture while they’re both smiling wide. Danny immediately stands up, and peers over Tim’s shoulders to look at the picture.

It’s a good one, with the fringe of Danny’s curls falling slightly over his left eye and making the dimple on his right cheek more prominent. He could see the barely-there smattering of freckles he had across his nose, the ones that became more prominent when the sun was out. His smile was lopsided, Danny’s favorite kind of smile.

He whistles lowly, “That’s a good one,” he says aloud, and smiles impishly at Tim when he looks at him. “You should send that one, I look hot in it.”

Tim snorts, his ears reddening as he looks down at his phone. “Yeah sure, no problem.” He says quickly, and Danny looks away when he pulls up the messenger app. He’s never felt comfortable looking over people’s shoulders when they were on their phone.

“I’m gonna go take a smoke break.” He shoves his hands into his pockets and curls his fingers around the box and lighter inside. “I’ll—“

“Be on the west-end balcony.” Tim finishes, the red in his ears darkening as he glances up from his phone to smile embarrassedly. “I know.”

Danny snorts, “Okay.” His voice is thick with amusement. “Let me know how Dipstick reacts, alright?” He backs up slowly, awaiting Tim’s response. Tim merely waves a hand at him, a weak gesture of “yeah yeah” that makes Danny grin before he flips around and marches towards his favorite smoking balcony.

———————

(Tim pulls up the family group chat and loads the selfie into the text bar. His face feels warm with embarrassment even as his thumbs fly across the screen.

Tim: look who i found at the latest charity gala :) [image]

Hee awaits eagerly a response, and finds he doesn’t have to wait long. Dick’s thought bubble appears on screen, then Cass’s — of which it only exists for a moment before disappearing.

Dick: holy shit, is that who i think it is?

Tim responds quickly, and his message sends.

Tim: yep. He wanted me to tell you that he thinks your jokes are funny.

Dick: they are funny

Tim rolls his eyes and thinks for a moment, really thinks. He weighs his pros and cons. And then his fingers fly across the screen again.

Tim: hey Jason are you not gonna say anything?

There’s no response for all of thirty seconds — of which it stretches on to an uncomfortably long minute — and then Jason’s thought bubble appears.

Jason: what do i have to say to a bunch of idiots blowing up my phone in the middle of patrol?

Tim: harsh. do you recognize the guy in the photo?

Jason’s response is instant. Too fast for him to have actually looked at the photo itself. He’s just trying to spite Tim then. Tim doesn’t care, he has the upper hand here

Jason: no and I don’t care, i have patrol

Tim knows he didn’t look at the photo, and yet he can’t help stifle a shit-eating smile and feign innocence

Tim: really? You and Danny used to be so close, color me surprised

His teeth dig into his lower lip, he doesn’t need to in order to hide a smile. But it gives him something to do. Jason is worryingly silent for a long, long time, and Tim can almost imagine him staring long and hard at the selfie. Tim knows he will be later.

Finally, Jason’s text bubble shows up. It exists for a long time, before finally Tim’s phone buzzes with his message alert.

Jason: that’s danny?

Tim feels all too gleeful. Smugness swirling in his chest like kicked up sand as he types his response: yep! Apparently he showed up today, although I’m not sure with who since I don’t see Miss Manson around here.

Damian: Father says to get off your phone, Drake. We are at a Gala and your behavior is most unbecoming

Tim: can it demon spawn, I was just telling Jason that his friend Danny is here

Damian: He can’t be too important if he doesn’t even know Todd is alive

Tim: how would you know that?

Damian: When Father introduced him as Todd’s friend, I expressed my surprise that Todd even had friends, considering how unpleasant he can be. Fenton became quite cross with me after that and quickly excused himself thereafter

Dick: you said what!? Damian that’s not okay

Damian: Father made that quite clear after Fenton left in a huff. My mistake for thinking that Todd had told his ‘supposed best friend’ that he was alive.

Dick: he didn’t even tell us we were alive at first

Damian: He did eventually, didn’t he? Clearly Todd doesn’t seem to care too much about Fenton if he hasn’t even informed him of his being alive at this point.

Jason’s thought bubble quickly pops up, and then dissipates, then pops up again. Tim quickly pockets his phone before he can see Jason’s response. He doesn’t feel smug anymore, just uncomfortable.)

———————

Stepping out onto the west-end balcony feels like a blast from the past. A painful one at that. Danny’s fingers dig into his cigarette pack, and he pulls it out with a sense of bittersweet familiarity.

It feels like a lifetime ago that he once stood here with Jason. The package clunks dully as his fingers scrape against the side, and he fishes a cigarette out of the box before stuffing it back into his pocket.

“Quite the night isn’t it.” He says to nothing, to ghosts of the past, to himself. He turns and sits on the railing, sticking his legs out like a tripping hazard while Gotham’s hot city wind blows through the air.

He looks up and only sees the ugly pollution yellow sky looking down at him. It’s an unfamiliar feeling to him. He loves the stars and yet when faced with a smog that covers it, he feels more at home.

Danny’s fingers find the lighter, and with a few clicks a small open flame appears in existence. There’s a poem here, he can feel it. But he feels too tired to find it.

The cigarette lights, and the lighter dies in response. Returning back to his coffin-like pocket until he needs to use it again. He pulls a leg up, resting his chin on his knee with a heavy, tired sigh.

He soaks in the sounds around him. The ugly city warmth nips at his jaw. The music inside is muffled by the force of two glass doors and walls on all four sides, and Danny can hear late night traffic coming by on the road nearby. It’s a special kind of ambience you can only find on the west end balcony.

Half a decade ago, Danny had played a part with that ambience with Jason. Now it was just him, and Jason was nowhere to be found. It left a hopeless kind of feeling in his chest. An all-suffocating kind of fear that filled him head to toe with an intensity only ghosts could have.

His body winds up like a spring, and Danny holds his breath. When he exhales two minutes later, the spring stutters and jolts, and his body relaxes with a tremble.

He misses Jason. He misses Jason.

Ghosts are emotional creatures. They feel it from their crown to their soles. And emotional wounds never really heal. They scab over and fester, waiting to be picked at again and again so it can bleed as fresh as it did when it first opened.

Danny’s grief is never going to go away, he thinks. It’s clung to him like a parasite; shaped him and molded him. The wound was too close to him when he died, and now it will stay with him forever.

He opens his eyes when his ghost sense tingles, a heavy feeling in his throat that is neither nicotine nor grief. It’s just like Damian’s, but stronger. Potent. Older. It reaches the top of Danny’s throat and sits at the base of his tongue, like a hand about to suffocate him.

He looks up, cigarette hanging off his lips, and the Red Hood drops down beside him. He stands in the same spot Jason once did, and that alone makes the ghostly core in Danny seize possessively.

Don’t you dare stand where he stood, it hisses, coiling around his lungs like smog. Danny grits his teeth and feels his ghost sense evaporate. He pulls the cigarette out of his mouth, and nicotine smoke pours out like a cheap version of his ghost sense.

“Red Hood.” He says plainly, his free hand coiling and uncoiling like cat’s claws against the railing. “A surprise to see you here.”

Danny knows through process of elimination who most of the Gotham vigilantes are: Dick is Nightwing, Bruce is Batman, Tim is Red Robin, Damian is Robin, and Cass is Orphan. There are a few who he doesn’t know, however. Like Batgirl and Red Hood.

It’s fine, he doesn’t need to know. Danny of all people understands the importance of a secret identity.

Red Hood doesn’t say anything, just stares at him as if he’s a deer in headlights. His body all tensed up like he isn’t sure what to do now that he’s here in front of Danny. Like he wasn’t expecting Danny to be here at all.

Danny’s brows furrow. “Sorry, am I in your spot?” He asks, and begins to push off the railing. “I didn’t think vigilantes used the Wayne Hall west-end balcony, I can leave if you want.”

He’s already begun to move towards the door.

The Red Hood lurches in his spot, “No!” He yells, and Danny stops in place with raising eyebrows. Red Hood’s fingers cringe, and he straightens up.

He’s shorter than Danny, he notes. Which isn’t much of revelation. Everyone is shorter than Danny.

“No,” Red Hood repeats, sounding sturdier than before, “No. You’re fine. I’m just stopping here for a quick rest before resuming patrol.”

…Danny doesn’t question it. It’s none of his business about other vigilantes and their practices. He shrugs and breathes out more smoke, “Alright.” He says, and walks back over to the railing to sit on it. “I’m Danny, by the way.”

The Red Hood nods, and a silence falls over them. Danny doesn’t care enough to make it feel uncomfortable, but the Red Hood seems unsettled by something. Lost in thought. He leans his back against the railing similar to Danny, and then switches a few seconds later to a new pose.

He does it again, and again, and again. Until finally he flips over and leans his stomach against the railing, arms resting against it. It is starkly like what Jason used to do, and Danny stares at him long and hard.

He frowns. And says nothing.

When Danny’s cigarette is nothing more than a butt of nicotine, he crushes it in his hand and watches the ash flutter down to the ground. The heat stings his hand, but its nothing his ghostly healing can’t fix.

The Red Hood is already holding out another one when Danny’s hand drifts to his pocket for the box.

Danny stares at him, sudden wariness opening up like floodgates that sit at the bottom of his stomach.

His frown deepens, his eyes flicker up and down at Red Hood. His hands hover over his pocket. “I have my own.” He says, and watches subtly as the Red Hood hides a wilt. As if he’d been expecting Danny to take it.

“Alright.” The Red Hood says, trying to sound unbothered. He retracts the cigarette away from Danny, quiet all the way. He’s looking away.

Danny plucks the cigarette out of his hand, startling the Hood enough that Red snaps back to look at him. Danny yanks his lighter from his pocket. “I won’t say no to a free cigarette.” He says, slightly muffled with the stick between his teeth. It lights.

Silence falls over them again, and when one minute stretches into five, whatever hope that had been digging into the shoulders of Red Hood finally pulls away and leaves him slumping subtly.

‘A ciggie for your thoughts?’ Nine year old Jason Todd whispers one night with an impish grin, holding up a cigarette pinched between his two fingers. ‘I stole it from my old man. He won’t even notice its gone.’

Danny is halfway through it when he speaks. “The Joker killed my best friend.” He says, and watches from the corner of his eye as the Red Hood flinches. Is he startled by Danny speaking, or startled by the bluntness of him starting?

“He beat him to death.” Danny continues, staring stone-faced away from Red Hood. His grief claws up his lungs and burrows into his heart again. His fingers dig into the railing. “He beat my best friend to death.”

The Red Hood is silent, his body as still as the grave. Silence stretches out between them both, and like he’d been thinking, the Hood finally speaks: “How do you know?”

He’s not holding the cigarette, he broke his and Jason’s rule. Danny bounces the stick between his fingers. “His ghost told me.” He says, taking a trembling breath. “His ghost told me so, before he disappeared.”

The Red Hood says nothing, and Danny gathers his thoughts. The ones that had been buried deep next to his core, shoved down ever since Danny learned of Rath and a terrible future where a world is destroyed by one ghost’s hands.

Danny has never said it out loud before. His face scrunches up briefly, and then smooths out when his eyes squeeze shut. “I’m going to kill him, Red Hood.” He murmurs when he opens his eyes, turning his face toward the vigilante. The sound is sucked out of the air.

The Red Hood stares at him, but he doesn’t say a word. Danny pushes on, teeth grinding into teeth as he flips his silvery scarred hand back and forth. Palm up, palm down. “It’s why I haven’t been back to Gotham in a while.” He admits, voice still quiet. “If I see the Joker I will kill him, and I won’t feel bad for it.”

“Not today though,” he says, and closes his hand, “today I’m here on a favor to Vlad Masters. Then after this I’ll go visit my friend. I need to apologize for not seeing his grave in a while. I’ll have to stop by a florist to see if they have any zinnias. Jay likes those.”

He takes out the cigarette in his mouth and breathes out one last cloud of smoke. And then he crushes the cigarette stick under his foot and walks back inside.

[queenofsaltinesss]

Expect the unexpected

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader

Summary: You were an agent hired as surveillance while Shield was gearing up to capture Bucky. He was just a case to you, but now you´re both back in America and you feel completely different about him.

Warning: none for this one. Just pining and backstory

A/N: im gonna start writing fanfic again to spark my creativity. I have not been writing for a few years and i want to get back to it so i can better my skills. Let me know if you guys like this idea, and i will write it clean.

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You had 'nt expected to feel like this the first time you met him.

You had mentally prepared for the moment of course. You had been promoted during the hunt for the notorious Winter Soldier, outstationed in Eastern Europe and packed away in a rotting apartment on a stake out.

You had been shocked to learn how normal he was, or at least how normal he was trying to be. He woke up early, he kept a solid morning routine, he visited farmers markets and he read the newspaper.

You weren't there when he was arrested, already removed from the situation and put on a plane back home to the states. You had the pleasure of meeting Steve a few days later while you were buried in paperwork.

He had hovered outside of your office and it was a few moments before you realized he wanted to talk to you. You had left your desk, peeking around the corner and was suddenly face to face with your first ever super soldier. He was taller than you anticipated.

"is there something i can do for you Captain?"

He smiled awkwardly, looking over his shoulder as to look for anyone who could overhear what he wanted to say. You suddenly felt nervous, a chill sliding across your skin and straightening your back.

" we can talk inside if you´d like"

He looked visibly more relaxed as you shut the door behind you and sat back down at your desk. He was interesting, Steve. This man had seen possibly everything our world had to offer, lived in two vastly different time periods, and yet his face showed genuine interest as he looked over the diplomas and honors hanging on the wall.

"i looked through your file you know, when they assigned you this case?"

"yeah?"

He finally turned around to face you, and you were surprised at how relieved you felt. Some part of you expected him to be disappointed in what he saw. When you surpass being just a human being, does any level of education and dedication still impress you?

"i wanted to know why someone so young was put on such a high level case. Most departments with the FBI have no idea what even goes on behind these walls, let alone know said walls exist".

You dont hear a question and yet he looks at you as if you´re supposed to give him an answer.

"and was your question answered?" you ask as if the conversation amuses you, yet you find yourself caring about the answer.

"i did yes. I read your entire file, front to back." he tells you, and you´re holding your breath.

"you are one of the youngest detectives to ever be accepted into the academy in the first place. You were promoted to the Behavioral analysis unit after 1,5 with the bureau following a large drug cartel bust that depended on a series of your observations. Observations that your fellow agents dismissed but that you held onto"

You can not help the heat rising to your cheeks and you slide the tips of your fingers over one of them in what you hope is a casual gesture.

"i dont mean to embarras you, but i was deeply impressed by your work, and i wanted to thank you for how everything turned out Romania"

Suddenly he´s lost you. " i was pulled from the case early because your pursuit of him escalated before anticipated. I didn't actually do much work, Captain"

He shrugs, glancing down at your desk and tapping one of his fingers on the cap of a mechanical pencil.

"the reason the pursuit happened earlier than we meant it to, is because of your case reports"

...what?

"the perspective you had of his behavior changed the nature of the capture. We realized that we were dealing more with a man than a weapon" he hesitates for a moment, and your gut drops for second as you realize how intimate this conversation actually is.

"thanks you to, i got to help bring my best friend home. If it wasnt for you, im not sure they would have let me be a part of the pursuit"

You didn't expect to feel like this the first time you met him. Since your conversation with Steve, you had mentally prepared for the moment as to show up in the best possible way.

You didn't want to make him feel like a villain, despite his 70 years in the business of being as such. You prepared mentally, you prepared a polite smile, you prepared for your eyes to remain glued to his. You practiced a short and precise handshake, practiced reaching for the flesh hand as you assumed he wouldn't want the metal hand resting in the air as he shook a long line of peoples hands.

It had been months since you had first observed him in that grimy apartment. Months of observation, therapy and paperwork. Until he was finally cleared and he moved into the Avengers compound with the rest of the team. He wasn't officially an Avenger yet, Tony Stark made sure of that. But they were giving him a chance and he took it.

You were asked to be there, not as an agent of Shield but as a personal favor to Steve. You and him had been in continuous communication since he first held his speech in your office.

You had worked a few cases together, consulted each other in moments of uncertainty. He had even invited you around to meet everybody else.

You had been deeply honored. During your time as an agent you often felt ostracized as a young woman surrounded by pompous men. Getting to meet the actual Avengers made your head spin and you barely managed to remain semi mature.

You were shocked to find him in your office one morning, 6 months after Bucky was brought back to America. Steve, and your boss were both looking at you expectantly and your stomach immediately drops through the floor.

"Agent, goodmorning" your boss smiles at you and gestures towards the door behind your , "why dont you close the door for a moment"

You barely felt conscious as she laid the file on your desk, nodding at you to open it up. Looking over the file, you weren't sure you spoke English anymore.

"i dont think i understand"

"there's been a request for your transfer. Internally. Shield is requesting you as an agent on their newest task force"

"A task force?"

You hadn't heard about any new task forces, and the idea of being invited into a classified division was making your fingers tingle. You glanced back at the file and noticed the signature on the bottom of the page.

Tony. Stark.

You looked back up, at Steve this time. The earnest look in his eyes made him look like a kid for a second, the warmth was overwhelming you and you felt that familiar blush warm your skin.

"you want me" you hesitated as you spoke, the words feeling fuzzy on your tongue" you want me to join the Avengers?"

You had been preparing yourself, but you hadn't prepared to cross the threshold and feel your gut swoop in that oh so familiar way that we have all suffered through. You felt the hairs on your arms stand up and a tingle thread its way up along your arms and spread across your shoulders.

He scans the group of people entering the door in the way you´ve seen so many agents and soldiers do before you, the measured calculated manner they´re all trained for.

It feels silly, in conversation most adult shoot down the idea of love at first sight. Years of experience have taught us that love takes work, and love takes time. Yet, we all do this. We all lay eyes upon an attractive stranger and hope they feel as intrigued by us as we are with them. And we spin this brief and baseless idea of them “knowing right away”.

And then you´re snapped out of it just as its your turn to get introduced, barely hearing what was used to describe you but luckily catching the end tail of your name just in time to lean forward with your hand out for him to shake. Its smoother and a lot more rehearsed than you anticipated, which is weird seen as you´ve shook hands hundreds, if not thousands of times.

God why is it so different all of the sudden? You have looked at this man for 3 months straight and only ever saw an assignment. A washed up assassin. But the man in front of you looks completely different. The six months since the surveillance have changed him.

My god he is gorgeous. now that he has moved on to the next people in the row, having only greeted half of the people total you take a second to admire him.

Hes a lot taller than he appeared through multiple windows, and he is big. So unbelievably big it makes me drool a little and you actually wipe the corner of your mouth just in case.

Wide shoulders, rounded muscles curving around and down along his biceps and underarms and engulfing his wrists. Big hands as well, strong. In fact, strength is pulsing all through him and almost coming off him in waves. His legs are nice too, fitting the width of the rest of his body and eliciting some very inappropriate thoughts that you push to the back of your mind in the same second.

His hair is shorter, still longer than Steves and curling around his ears. But it looks purposeful, he had it cut and shaped and you notice the hair tie around one of his wrists.

Later that night he is moved in, he didn't have that much stuff but the boys still took time to help him get everything in. They had ordered pizza and eaten it outside on the balcony, and every time you had walked past you had snuck a glance at him. And every time you did, and every time he was smiling at something the others said, you felt like your lungs were collapsing in on themselves. It wasn't even a big smile, it was barely even there.

The first time you speak, he surprises you by being the first to open his mouth.

It was past one am, two weeks after he had moved in, and you were standing in the kitchen, waiting for a tub of vegan ice cream to melt so you could scoop some into a bowl.

You were deep in thought, upper body leaned over the kitchen island to support your arms as you flipped through the pages of a case file. You didn't hear him, didn't see him either until he steps into the light and you draw a sharp breath in surprise.

He smiles apologetically and you smile back. And your stomach swoops once more.

You dont turn around as he moves around behind you, shuffling through cupboards and drawers and cracking open the fridge door. You don't want him to feel like you were watching him.

You feel him stop and turn behind you, you dont doubt that he is going to say something.

But again, you were afraid of making him feel cornered or uncomfortable so you dont say anything and remain by the kitchen island. But then you suddenly worry that he will give up talking to you if you stay turned around and you were about to make up your mind when-

“do you know whose this is? its not labeled” oh god his voice, you could barely stay standing.

You turn around and he is holding a tub of greek yogurt, unlabeled, just like he said. The fridge system was made up of different colored sticky notes with your names on it, to avoid eating each others stuff, and making it harder to steal snacks.

You shrug in what your hope is a casual way, “i guess if its not labeled its free for all”

He looks you in the eye for a few seconds longer than what feels normal, and you bask it in. Let it soak into your skin and warm your bones.

“you sure? dont want Sam to complain about it for the next week or two”. He doesn't mean to be funny but the giggle escape you regardless and you pretend you dont see the way the corner of his mouth twitches upwards.

“well if he didnt label it then too bad” he looks at the yogurt, and then back at the fridge “sometimes when people buy too much, or they dont like something or they go on a mission, they take the sticky notes off to let people know they can eat it”

He nods, still eyeing the yogurt. You realized how many flavors everything has developed since his time. Well his conscious and free time. The yogurt flavor was Mango-lime and was a soft orange color.

You feel bold, and in control of the conversation, and so you say:

“besides, i wont tell anyone”

His eyes snap up momentarily at the flirtatious tone, and you notice the pink tint on his ears.

“thanks”

“yeah, no problem”

You grab the spoon you stuck in the ice cream and scoop a portion into the bowl, move past him to put the tub back in the freezer, and walk back to your room.

You dont notice the pounding of your heart before you´re tucked safely into your bed.

God what is wrong with you? You are a grown woman. You are an avenger for gods sake. You have a career you worked hard for, you´re educated, you´re highly trained, you have lived on your own for almost ten years now. Why are you so obsessed with a man.

The thought nags you, you haven't felt anything for anyone in years. There was always something more important, something else that that you would rather be focused on.

Of course some have caught your attention over the years, but the interest never lasts.

But this, he, is something else. He has somehow had your attention for days now.

Hes nice to look at, he´s polite, he doesn't sound like a fucking idiot when he opens his mouth.

Dating a colleague is already awkward, but dating another avenger is an inconvenience. It complicates things, its an Achilles heel and its leverage for potential threats.

Not to mention the fact that you would absolutely hate to include your entire workplace. You have no interest in having your office be the backdrop to your love story, nor your colleagues be enthusiastic commentators to the spectacle.

The mere thought of parading your emotions around like a faux fur cape, makes you shudder. And so in that exact moment, you decide that you will not be pursuing this relationship under any circumstance.

That does not exclude the possibility of a friendship though.

Bucky Barnes has not been himself nor an active participant in society for at least 70 years. If anyone needs a friend, its him.

So you make that your mission instead, you will be the best goddamn friend he has ever had. Even if it kills you slowly.

[naughtyneganjdm]

Comfort Zone

Summary: Being shy was always a problem, but when Negan expresses interest in you, you have to step outside of your comfort zone in order to get the one thing you have wanted for years.

Characters: Negan & the reader (OC, second person). 

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49606555

Warnings: 18+, Swearing, smut, rough sex, masturbation, just filth really, etc.

Notes: I asked for people to give a me a few ideas to write something short and quick...I was given the reader is shy and she is finally bold enough to take what she wants. So here it is. Hope you like it. @murphslass

What were you supposed to do when you were shy and the object of your desires was one of the most charismatic people you had ever met? That was something you could never quite figure out when it came to Negan.

Toward the beginning of when the world started to fall to shit, you were one of the first people that Negan had found with The Sanctuary. And you were loyal. Very loyal. But you were incredibly shy. It was a problem that you had since you were younger. Anyone who knew Negan would have known that he was the complete opposite. So when you were at The Sanctuary, it was really hard to stand out. Especially when you were around him. The biggest problem was that you always had a thing for Negan. Add that in with your shyness and that meant that you were never able to tell him. So you kind of just disappeared into the background. It was the small interactions that you appreciated. But it was never much.

When Alexandria defeated The Sanctuary, they brought you in with open arms. Hell, you were just someone living at The Sanctuary at the time. It didn’t hurt coming to Alexandria knowing that Negan was still here. While it terrified others to know that he was still living there, you found comfort in it. And when they started giving Negan more duties around Alexandria, allowing him to be outside his cell you were happy for him.

On occasion you would be the person that would bring him his meals, but you were still too shy to make small talk with Negan. Considering you had the hots for him for years it made things awkward for you. Even when he himself was trying to talk to you, you found yourself turning away. And as of late he was trying quite a bit. You assumed it was because he was lonely, you just didn’t find the strength you needed to talk back much.  

Here you were again. Standing outside the door to his cell holding onto one of the platters carrying his lunch. Trying to coach yourself to finally say something and create some small talk between the two of you, you bit down on your tongue and sighed. Today was the day.

Carefully turning the knob to the door, you pushed open the door and felt your heart skip a beat when you stopped your movements. Laying stretched out across his small bed in his cell was Negan with his pants down at his hips and his shirt pushed up toward the middle of his chest. His long fingers were curled around his swollen cock while he was jerking off. Immediately you thought of turning around and letting him have his moment, but at that moment he didn’t notice that you were there. His head was tipped back with his eyes closed shut tightly. He was biting down on his bottom lip trying to stifle the faint, raspy moans that were still falling from his throat no matter how hard he was trying to hide them. His left was wrapped around the base of his erection while his right stroked over his solid manhood.

“Fuck…” Negan growled out and hearing him like that made a chill run down your spine. In all the time that you had known Negan of course you had pictured something like this. It was like something out of your own dreams, but you couldn’t believe that it was actually happening.

Something that resembled a whine fell from Negan’s throat and his lips parted. Soft pants were falling from him and it brought attention to the bulging vein at the side of his neck. You didn’t know where to look. Did you watch the pleasure that was flooding his sexy features while he jerked off or did you focus on his surprisingly nice cock that was throbbing in his grasp?

Another moan fell from Negan’s throat, his hips arching up toward his caress bringing your attention to his cock again. Your throat went dry looking at it. It was thick, with prominent veins running up and down the shaft. It was lengthy and the way he was caressing his fingers over his body drew attention to the mushroom shaped tip. Negan had a very nice dick and it did leave you surprised to see. Especially with the arrogance. When people were often cocky like Negan, it wasn’t very likely that they had something to match that ego, but he did.

His breathing grew louder, his hand moving faster over his body with his hips bucking up toward his grasp. Desperate pants were filling the air from his parted lips and you felt your heart racing at the sight. His left hand released the base to caress up and over his slender abdomen toward his chest. His raspy moans grew stronger alerting you to the fact he was about to come, but right as he was about to, he tipped his head back and his eyes opened.

Once Negan saw you, his eyes grew wide, your name falling from his parted lips when the first line of his cum shot out from the tip covering his lower abdomen and a few more ropes of cum followed. Jolting his body, Negan turned away from you. The muscles in his small bottom flexing when his orgasm clearly continued.

“Fuck. Shit. Fucking hell,” Negan’s worried breaths were followed with involuntary moans while he tried to pull up his pants. Breathlessly, Negan eagerly reached for the tissues in attempts to clean himself up. Maybe you should have turned away, but your body was frozen. Standing up from the bed, you saw that Negan’s cock was still twitching after its release and he was swiftly trying to push it back beneath the material of his boxer briefs before working together his pants. “I am so fucking sorry. I am so…so sorry.”

Curling your fingers around the platter that they had put his lunch on, you lowered your eyes and heard Negan’s labored breathing still filling the air. Lifting your gaze, you saw that he was standing at the bars of his cell, his fingers curled around them while his hazel eyes stared out at you.

“Shit,” Negan looked down toward the center of his pants and he adjusted his hips showing that the material was still straining to his body. Huffing out, Negan’s eyebrows furrowed and he raised his eyes back up to yours. There were goosebumps over your arms and even if it made you a pervert, you were incredibly turned on. “I swear I didn’t know you were coming down here,” a laugh fell from his throat when he shook his head, “I thought I would be the only one coming down here.”

Licking your lips, you headed to set the platter down at the edge of the bars and there was an amused smirk over Negan’s handsome features. That was obviously a joke he was trying to drop to lighten the mood, but you didn’t react at all.

“I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just bringing you your meal and I…” you began finding it hard to keep eye contact with Negan. Hell, he caught you red handed watching him jerking off. You were embarrassed to say the least.

“I’m sure that’s not what you were expecting to see,” Negan cleared his throat uncomfortably, his dimples sinking in while he stared out at you. “I usually hear people coming down the stairs, but I guess I was in the middle of the act and I wasn’t thinking.”

“I totally understand,” you waved your hand about not sure of what to say when Negan brushed his fingers through his damp hair. “It looked like you were enjoying yourself and I didn’t want to interrupt you.”

A faint chuckle fell from Negan’s throat and you damned yourself for saying something so stupid. Shaking your head, you started to backstep toward the door assuming that he thought you were an idiot for saying what you did.

“Hey,” Negan called out once you made it to the door. Stopping, you kept your head down before gazing back over your shoulder at him. “Did you enjoy what you saw?”

There was curiosity in Negan’s eyes when you turned to face him and your hand was still holding onto the doorknob ready to run away like all the times before.

“Because it was you I was thinking about,” Negan slurred, his long eyelashes fluttering while staring out at you.

“Don’t fuck with me,” you breathed out with a long sigh knowing that was likely the furthest thing from the truth. “You weren’t thinking about me. You hardly even know me. I’m the least noticeable person around.”

“I’m not fucking with you. And fuck, I happen to disagree with you,” Negan spoke up, his eyes narrowing. “You always stood out. Even at The Sanctuary you stood out to me. So that’s bullshit.”

“You knew I was there?” you questioned hearing Negan let out a half laugh, his head tipping to the side. Sure, the two of you had talked a few times at The Sanctuary, but you always felt like a loner there. “You would have never known it.”

“No, because I wasn’t flirting with you all the time trying to test out if you would have been comfortable being one of my wives or anything,” Negan snorted, his eyebrows arching when you lowered your hands at your sides. “At first, I thought you didn’t like me because you were always running off and shit. So I never asked. But after seeing you right now, I don’t think that’s the case. You’re fucking shy, aren’t you?”

Searching for the right words to say, you had nothing and it made you sigh when Negan started to speak up again, “What’s not to like? You’re beautiful, you’re loyal, you’re kind…you just need to step outside your comfort zone a little. I saw the way you were looking at me, why never make your move?”

“I uh…I have to go,” you felt your face flushing over and you stepped back toward the stairs hearing Negan calling out your name but at this point you were too embarrassed to speak. So you did what you did best and ran away.

Later that day you were out late working around Alexandria and you saw Negan was being shadowed by Brandon. Once Negan spotted you, he spoke to Brandon about something and he headed over toward you from where you were working on gardening duty.

“Hey,” Negan uttered, reaching to pull the hat he was wearing from his head. Pushing his fingers back through his hair, Negan cleared his throat and tossed his hands up after he put his hat back on. “I was thinking…maybe the next time you come down to give me one of my meals, maybe you can stay. We can talk. Get to know one another or some shit. It can be like a first date. That is if you’re interested.”

“Really?” you breathed out, resting back on your knees and Negan nodded his head. While that sounded nice, you knew you were shy and would likely turn him off by acting that way. Especially after he told you earlier that you needed to step outside of your comfort zone. “I don’t know Negan.”

“Am I reading everything wrong?” Negan wondered, waving his hands about and his facial expression twisting. “Was I wrong about things? If that’s the case I just made a total ass of myself today, didn’t I? I am so sorry.”

“Hey…” you called out to him when Negan shook his head and held his hands up.

“You know what? It’s been a long time since I’ve done this whole flirting thing and maybe I’m rusty,” Negan backstepped toward the large amounts of laundry they had him doing. “Just ignore my idiot self and…I’m so sorry. About earlier, about this…don’t worry about it.”

By the time you finally had the courage to even speak up again Negan was already headed back toward the laundry and you cussed to yourself. Why couldn’t you just fucking say something? Negan was everything you wanted. Instead of heading back over there, you just kept up with your work and damned yourself for being this shy. Negan was saying everything you could ever want to hear earlier, why couldn’t you just believe it?

When night fell and the only light that was still available was that coming from the houses and the moon that was shining bright, you could see that Negan was still out finishing the laundry that he had been drying out all day. Sitting on the steps from the porch of the home you lived in, you watched him. It looked like Brandon had left for some reason.

Getting up from the steps, you made your way toward the laundry that Negan was taking down. Negan tossed another sheet into the pile that he had behind him that he would fold after he got them down from the lines. It was like a maze of sheets blowing in the wind when you approached Negan from behind.

“Negan,” you called out his name and he looked back over his shoulder at you. Turning on his heel, his hazel eyes were confused when you approached him. Grabbing a tight hold of the blue button down they had him wearing, you tugged him down toward you and claimed his lips in a forceful kiss. Stumbling forward, Negan groaned against your lips sending a vibration through them that made you moan.

“Whoa,” Negan breathed out when you pulled away. His tongue dragged out across his bottom lip and he smiled. Stroking your fingers over the back of his neck, you curled the longer hair at the bottom his neck around them before firmly shoving into Negan. Gasping out, Negan grumbled when he fell into the pile of sheets and clothes that he had tossed behind him. In a way, you two were hidden by the sheets that were still hanging from the lines. Adjusting his body, Negan watched when you carefully kicked out of your shoes, your fingers sliding in over the button of your jeans. Pulling it apart, Negan’s eyes watched carefully when you pushed them down your legs. “What are you doing?”

“Stepping out of my comfort zone. I’ve always wanted you Negan. I’ve just been too damn shy to take what I want, but I’m sick of that,” you muttered knowing that after what you had seen earlier with Negan it had left you aching in the worst possible of ways. “Seeing you earlier touching yourself like that turned me on more than you will ever know.”

“Yeah?” Negan’s breathing grew louder when you hooked your fingers into your panties pushing them down along with your jeans. Bravery was not something that came normally to you, but right now you were being bold because you wanted Negan and you wanted him bad.

Lowering down, you crawled in over Negan and eagerly reached for his belt to pull it apart, “If you don’t want this, tell me now before I make a fool of myself.”

“No, I want this. I want this a lot,” Negan responded reaching down to help you get his pants open. While you worked at the material, Negan reached for your shirt to pull it from your body and toss it aside. “I can’t promise you I’m going to last entirely too long because it’s been a long time since I’ve been with someone, but I will fucking try.”

“Good, because I have no idea where that little creeper Brandon is and the last thing we need is him watching us,” you felt your heart hammering inside of your chest with Negan’s lips kissing down over your chest with his fingers reaching around you in attempts to unhook your bra. Managing to get Negan’s pants down his hips, you crawled in over Negan and grabbed a hold of his semi-erect cock. “You’ve just left me aching all day after what I saw you doing earlier and if I don’t have you inside of me right now, I might combust.”

“I wouldn’t want that,” Negan slurred, his head tipping back when your free hand reached to push the baseball cap that he was wearing from his head. His hair was messy and it was dark, but you could still see the longing in his eyes amongst the moonlight. Once Negan got your bra unhooked, he helped pull the material from your body before his large hands reached up to cup your breasts in a tender squeeze. “God, you are so fucking beautiful. Y’know that?”

Caressing over Negan’s cock fueled you more than you could ever imagine. Just having him grow solid in your grasp had your core throbbing with a fire growing in the pit of your belly. Lifting up just enough, Negan managed to get his button down off before swiftly working to get his t-shirt from his body. Bringing the two of you closer together, you felt the hairs from his chest tickling at your breasts and it made you hum with approval.

“Brandon is eating by the way. The little shit seems to trust me enough to finish what I have to finish,” Negan explained, his kisses trailing up over the side of your neck, over your jawline and toward your lips. Each brush of his lips over yours felt incredible and you couldn’t help but purr when he moaned against your kiss when he was fully solid in your grasp. Working your hand carefully between the two of you, you traced the swollen tip of Negan’s cock between your folds and his mouth pulled from yours. Looking between the two of you, Negan sucked at his bottom lip while you tugged your fingers through his dark hair. Adjusting over his body, you led his length toward your wet pussy taking him inside of you with an eagerness that neither one of you were expecting. Both of you moaned out as you lowered your hips down over him wanting to feel all of him inside of you. “Fuck baby. You’re so wet. This is still from earlier?”

“Be quiet,” you instructed hooking your arms around his shoulders and bracing your knees to give you balance when you started rocking your hips over his length in enthusiastic movements. Shakily, Negan’s hands braced at your hips while his eyes connected with yours. “We don’t need people coming out here and seeing us like this.”

“Would that embarrass you?” Negan wondered, his squared jaw flexing while you enjoyed the way his body filled and stretched you. It had been so long since you were with someone and having Negan of all people inside of you fueled you all the more.

“No,” you shook your head, your lips hovering over his while you bounced steadily over his cock making him faintly moan against your flesh. “The only person’s opinion I care about here is you. I don’t care if someone sees me riding your big cock. I just don’t want you getting in trouble for it.”

“Fucking hell,” Negan winced while your tight canal clung to his throbbing erection. Burying his nose against the side of your neck, Negan did his best to stay quiet. Your fingers caressed over the long planes of his shoulders and toward his neck enjoying having him close like this. “You feel so fucking good.”

Crying out, you knew that you were desperate to make some kind of noise but knew you couldn’t. Now that Negan was inside of you, you never wanted him to leave. It felt that good with how hard he was. Pausing for a moment when you dropped down, your hips shook and you felt his fingers digging harder into your flesh.

“It was such a shame seeing you waste all of that cum earlier,” you muttered hearing Negan’s moan follow, his head tipping back to stare out at you with awe. It was obvious that what you said had shocked him, but he liked it. “I would have much preferred that it was me that you were pumping all of that cum into.”

“You’re dirty,” Negan mused with a smirk, his palms sliding up the lengths of your abdomen toward your breasts to caress over them. Your hips were trembling feeling him stagnant inside of you, but you wanted to remember exactly what it felt like having him solid, filling you, touching you and looking at you with so much desire. “You may be shy, but you’re not innocent in the least, are you?”

“I’m whatever you want me to be,” you purred tipping your head back when he lowered his head down to take your breast into his mouth. Lapping his tongue at your nipple Negan sucked faintly at the flesh before moving toward the other breast to do the same. Firmly grasping to your hips, Negan adjusted the both of you and planted his feet so he could start smacking up against you again and again. Wet sounds filled the night air and there was a cool brisk to it causing chills to flood your body.

“I just want you to be mine,” Negan alerted you knowing that neither one of you were really being as quiet as you should have been. You felt full with Negan’s cock inside of you. Your fingers were digging into his chest, possibly breaking the skin, you couldn’t see that well in the dark. But Negan seemed to be enjoying it. Rolling you over onto your back, Negan crawled in over you and reached for your wrists. Urging them up, he pushed them into the pile of clean clothes that were beneath you. There was a bit of strength with his fingers wrapped tightly around your wrists, but you liked it. Pounding into you with reckless abandon, Negan hovered his lips over yours and he kept his eyes locked on you wanting to watch every reaction you had to him fucking you. “I’d really love to come down your throat one day, but since you are so desperate to have a pussy full of my cum, I’d really hate to let you down.”

“You better make me come first,” you hummed and a wicked smirked tugged at the corners of his lips. Lowering down in closer to you, he adjusted his body so that the two of you were pressed up against each other. The weight of him over you felt incredible when he released your wrists and reach down to pull your hips up closer to his. Rolling his hips in calculated movements had your body arching toward his. The change in position had his groin rubbing up against yours with every plunge and pull his cock made inside of you. It brought forth an incredible amount of friction over your clitoris while the swollen tip of his cock was hitting your g-spot in all the right ways.

“That won’t be a problem,” he breathed out with a smug expression, his lips covering yours again and it was a smart decision because it was going to be hard to hide the sounds that you were starting to make. This wasn’t a way to draw things out. No, this was a way for him to make you come and come fast. Your body bounced upward with every thrust he made, but you clung tightly to him. Kissing Negan was intoxicating. It enhanced everything that much more. You weren’t used to this kind of deep penetration, but he was doing a hell of a job proving to you why you made the right decision tonight. “Think of all the orgasms you could have been having if you would have just made your move at The Sanctuary. This dick could have been yours this whole time.”

“It’s mine now,” you panted against Negan’s lips, an amused rumble vibrated against your mouth when he nodded. “And I want it inside of me as much as possible.”

“I won’t fight you on that darlin’,” Negan mused with an arch of his eyebrow when you brought him in closer to you so you could silence your moans with his kisses again. A rushing ache flooded to your head and you tried your best not to pull away from Negan’s kisses. Negan’s thrusts were fast at this point hitting everything just right enough to make your hips pull away from him. Biting into your bottom lip, you closed your eyes and felt everything shaking. Your body grew hot and you couldn’t believe just how good Negan delivered. “Well fuck, I’m going to have to be doing these clothes again tomorrow, aren’t I?”

“I am so sorry,” you apologized feeling Negan’s long fingers tracing lines over your wet sex after he had just drawn you to come and come hard. “I didn’t know I was capable of that.”

“You’re going to be having a lot of those now, so get used to them,” Negan’s fingers circled your sensitive clitoris before reaching back for his throbbing cock to let it enter you again. Teasing his lips over yours, Negan smiled and a wicked chuckle fell from his throat. “Never apologize for having those kind of orgasms. Ever. These clothes were doomed in the first place. I’m going to fill your pussy with my cum and I come a lot.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” you curled your fingers around Negan’s neck, leading him back to you and in no time, he was back at pounding inside of you. “Fill me up.”

“I’m almost there,” Negan alerted you, his moans growing more frequent. Having Negan use your body in a way to bring out the most intense amount of pleasure for him brought forth so much joy for you. You felt him throbbing inside of you, but also at the same time you heard movement. “Fuck…”

Stretching his arm out, Negan grabbed one of the sheets that was hanging and yanked on it hard enough to bring it down. Pulling it in over the two of you, the sound of movement didn’t stop Negan’s incredibly powerful thrusts. His head tipped back, his Adam’s apple bouncing in his throat when his thrusts started to falter with the way that he was moving. Crying out, you tipped your head back feeling the pulsating of his hard cock inside of you. It was followed by the warmth of his cum filling you and God did it feel good. You asked and Negan was delivering.

With his forehead pressed to yours, it felt like the world was spinning and he still kept up with his movements until the very end making sure that he filled you with every drop of his release. Laying over you, Negan kissed over the side of your neck and you held onto him loving the sounds of him breathing heavily.

“Negan?” a voice called out making Negan turn his head to see that Brandon was pushing through the sheets. When he saw the two of you together it made Brandon’s eyes immediately drop. “Oh shit. I am so sorry. Are…you…okay?”

“I’m fine,” you went to move, but Negan shook his head and hushed you. Negan was still very much inside of you, but you were surprised that he wasn’t at all worried with Brandon standing over you like that.

“Listen, kid…” Negan grumbled, his breathing still loud enough for him to have to pause while he was talking. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to have sex. Do you think I can bring this beautiful woman with me to my cell so we can finish up? I promise to have her out by sunrise. In fact, I will be ready to finish all of this in the morning.”

“Negan, you know I’m not supposed to do that,” Brandon’s eyes shifted before letting out a tight breath. “Yeah, okay. Whatever.”

“Thanks kid. You’re a real lifesaver,” Negan gave an arrogant bob of his head and motioned Brandon to turn around. “Could you…”

“Of course,” Brandon immediately turned around and Negan was careful in the way that he managed to bring you up with him, keeping his cock still inside of you when he wrapped the sheet around the both of you to hide your naked bodies as much as possible.  

“I know this is a lot, but could you bring our clothes to my cell?” Negan requested back stepping slowly to bring you with him. Thankfully you weren’t that far away from his cell, but it was incredibly awkward still being pressed body to body with him with his cock inside of you. Getting down the stairs was the hardest part. His release was felt escaping somewhat as you both tripped down onto the small cot that he had. With the noise it made, you were surprised that it didn’t break.

“Try to be quiet, okay?” Brandon requested dropping the clothes that he had picked up for both of you at the corner of the cell. “And if you get caught, I didn’t do this.”

“Yeah, you’re a fucking champ kid,” Negan muttered when Brandon closed the door behind him when he left and Negan’s snicker fell from his throat. There was a small lantern at the corner of his cell giving more light to it than there was outside. “That kid hero worships me for some reason. They thought they were punishing me by putting that kid on me, but he really would let me get away with everything.”

“Is there a reason you made us walk back to the room with your cock still inside of me?” you pondered seeing the arrogant smirk tug at Negan’s lips. Getting up carefully, Negan finally pulled his now softening length from your body watching the pool of his cum pour out of you. Collecting some of it over his fingertips, Negan pushed his fingers back inside of you to coat the walls of your pussy with it. It made you whimper and tip your head back. “Negan…”

“I wanted to see your pussy full of my cum,” Negan informed you using some of the cum that had pushed out to stroke it back and forth over the lengths of your sex. “Plus, I liked watching you squirm with my cock inside of you and a stranger near.”

“You’re crazy,” you noted with a purr noticing the way that Negan drew shapes over your lower abdomen after he pulled his fingers from your sensitive body.

“But you like it,” Negan commented, his wolfish smile expanding over his handsome features. “I also was able to buy us some time until morning. Give me about twenty minutes and I’ll be able to add to what’s already inside of you. That’s if you’re interested of course.”

“I won’t tell you no,” you reached for him, pulling him in over you on the small cot. Adjusting his weight, Negan made sure to lay over you in a way that kept you comfortable while he stroked his fingers over the side of your face. Peppering faint kisses at your lips made Negan hum with a happy smirk tugging at his lips. “Although this is pretty nice too.”

“So you’re both a romantic and a freak,” Negan teased with a wink, nuzzling his nose in against yours while he laid in over you. “That’s good to know because I am too. And I’ll happily cuddle you for as long as possible because I live for this kind of shit doll. You have made my fucking day. I hope you know that.”

[tnkxx]

༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻

╰┈➤ signs you noticed from the lovesick scholar.

╰┈➤ pairings - Anaxa x fem!reader

Author's note - came back from a year break to fall in love with this frail man. RAHHH (dr ratio fic coming one day soon be patient with me :,d) I feel like this is very ooc FORGIVE ME I DIDNT DO HIS CHARACTER STUDY YET 🙏🙏

Also yall pls send me requests I'm out of ideas 🥀

THIS IS NOT PROOFREAD BECAUSE I CRINGE MORE EVERYTIME I TRY TO READ

There, you lied on your bed, replaying Mydeimo's words over and over again.

"I think everyone in this room except you knows how that man acts biased around you."

What did he mean by that? The way Anaxa acts biased around you?

Your hands find their way towards your scalp in frustration trying to decipher his words. When did Anaxa possibly act based towards you? You groan trying to think of an incident where Anaxa was slightly soft towards you.

SIGN 1 - His Actions.

You visit the grove, in search of the man himself, ANAXGORAS. You don't know why you were searching for him. Perhaps you just yearned for his company.

There you stood in front of his office, listening to the desperate begs and pleas of an unfortunate student of his. You wondered if it would be impolite to interrupt. So you just stood there, waiting for them to finish.

Unexpectedly, the door clicks open. You had expected to see the saddened face of a rejected student walking out with failure. Instead, you were met with Anaxa's stern face.

Anaxa's eye darted towards you, his brows rising in slight surprise at your presence.

"Professor Anaxa-"

"Anaxagoras." He cuts off the student's pleas, his voice laced with irritation.

You watched the scene unfold in front of you, your mouth hanging slightly agape. You started to feel bad for the student. Afterall, Anaxa is a pain to deal with, being pretty stern and ruthless at times.

"What brings you here?" Anaxa dismissed the student, focusing on you solely.

"Anaxa. Sorry, Anaxagoras. No purpose really. Just wanted to talk." You correct yourself before he can. Just wanted to talk? Is that the best you could come with? You internally curse yourself.

He stops. If you weren't looking at him intently, you wouldn't have noticed his shoulders relaxing just a little when you corrected yourself. Out of all the people, it's mostly you who actually obeys his two rules.

"Is it of importance?"

"Not exactly, but-"

"You know I'm a busy man." Anaxa interjects.

You swore you were about to strangle this man and his long legs right then and there. He gets absolutely infuriating to deal with.

"Fine." You mutter, grabbing the poor student's hand and dragging her away. What were you even doing? You question yourself.

At first it sounded like a solid idea in her mind, making Anaxa regret by ignoring him and taking his student out for a treat. Now, it just sounds so random. You should have thought this out first.

There stood Anaxa, still processing what just happened. He was slightly disappointed at how she didn't nag him wherever he walked. Wait. Was he really disappointed? He caught himself thinking, belittling himself for showing emotion.

"Ridiculous." Anaxa clicked his tongue. So what if she took his own student for a treat? Let them be. He doesn't care about either of them. He reassured himself, healing his pride and ego.

So why was it that his legs absentmindedly took him towards the nearest cafe in desperate search of your face?

He walked inside, the fresh smell of baked goods hitting him instantly. What hit him more was the familiarity of it all.

He still cherishes the moments where the both of you would sit at the corner of the cafe, constantly bickering and hitting each other with the most controversial questions.

But he would rather swallow a thousand needles than to ever admit that to anybody.

Anaxa's eyes searched the room, his gaze immediately landing on the back of your head. You seemed to be enjoying the company of his student. Hopefully not more than his.

You learned that the student's name is Vipsania, and that she was in Anaxa's office for him to approve of her essay.

"Thank you for dragging me out back there. I don't know how much longer I could have dealt with that devil. He has to be the worst professor." Vipsania, holds your hand in gratitude.

You laugh as she goes on about how ruthless Anaxa is, referring to him as the devil. Your laugh was short lived as the devil that Vipsania was talking about, unexpectedly sat beside you.

He said nothing, just sat there quietly. Menacingly.

The table goes silent.

"I thought you said you were busy?" The ends of your lips curl up into a victorious smile. Both of you know how well your plan actually worked.

"I only implied that I was busy." Excuses.

SIGN 2 - His Allowance.

Why were you back at the grove? You had absolutely no reason to be at the grove right now. Those thoughts were immediately pulled aside as you spotted a familiar figure under a tree, slumbering. Anaxa.

You tip toed over, careful not to awake him up. He really was asleep, book in hand and mind in slumber.

This was an unusual sight. You once pondered if the man even needed sleep to function. He is a demigod.

You lean in closer, admiring his features; his lashes, his soft hair, how his chest rises and falls back down with each breath her takes. It was mesmerizing.

Your eyes gaze at the eye patch on his face, where his other eye should be. You didn't know much. All you know was that it had something to do with the Black Tide.

"Don't you know it's impolite to stare? Much less scary when someone is sleeping." Anaxa's eye fluttered open, making you flinch.

"I was just curious about your other eye." You comment back, protecting your pride even though he wouldn't believe it.

"Is that so?" He raises a brow at you, making space for you to sit beside him. A rare gesture.

You nod, settling down beside him. It's hard to get a chance to stay near him. Yet when you do, a strange sense of comfort floods you.

"What purpose do you have at the Grove anyways? Or is it that you've come to pester me with your stupendous questions?" Anaxa shut the book between his fingers, slightly tilting his head to get a better view of you.

"Am I not allowed to visit a dear friend of mine?" Your eyes drift off from his face to his hair. His hair is pretty long.

"Not when you're going to disturb that dear friend of yours."

"Can I braid your hair?" You completely dismiss his remark, mind only focused on braiding that beautiful hair of his.

"No." It comes out of his mouth bluntly, just like every word that comes out of his mouth.

"Please?" Your hand grasp onto his shoulder, his body tensing at your touch. Your pleading eyes meet his gaze. Anaxa clicks his tongue.

"No." This time it comes out with a small hint of hesitancy.

"please?" You repeat, a sweeter and softer tone. His eye making contact with yours, immediately his sight darting away.

Anaxa sighs deeply before nodding softly, giving into your pleas.

You squeel excitedly, your hands immediately latching on his hair. You didn't expect it to be so soft and well kept. Anaxa is a man who doesn't care much about worldly possessions not his body, so it was unexpected to feel its silky texture.

Your hands immediately start working with his hair. Anaxa would never admit it but he secretly really enjoys when you play with his hair, whether it be braiding it or just twirling it around your finger.

That day, his students watched him in awe as he walked past with a braid and flowers entangled in his hair.

He didn't untie the braids for a few days and kept the flowers with him until they wilted.

SIGN 3 - His Jealousy.

There you were hopping and skipping around at the grove. You were back. Your sole reason being his company and your great excuse being a visit to the cafe.

It wasn't exactly an excuse. You truly did want to drop by the cafe.

The feeling of nostalgia hot you like a Dromas charging at you with full speed. All those bickering and laughing in those days.

You immediately order your old time favourite, plain milk coffee with two sugar cubes.

You rack your brain hard, trying to remember Anaxa's favourite drink or food, wanting to get him something. You ultimately fail and just order black coffee. The taste, bland just like him. It was funnier in your head.

As you hop your way out with the packed amenities, you can't help but wonder if Anaxa will even appreciate her little gift. You clearly knew the answer to your thoughts.

Maybe you wondered too hard. So hard that you didn't notice the figure in front of you, immediately crashing onto the poor person, the coffee spilling onto the ground.

Before you could mutter out your apologies, the person quickly apologised first, leaving you completely speechless. Such a gentleman? In this economy?

"I'm terribly sorry for that- here I'll pay for your lost coffee." The man seemed genuinely sorry, his brows furrowed.

You shook your head. "No it's perfectly fine. It was my fault there's no need." You tried to sound genuine, though it came out sounding like sarcasm. Your tone further fueled the man to pay you extra.

"come. I'll buy you new ones." He dusts off the dirt from his pants, offering compensation.

Anaxa on the other hand, had just finished a lecture. He was tired of sitting in his office the entire day, marking and grading papers. He decided the cafe was a good change of routine. He was expecting to see you since you only visit him during Wednesdays and Saturdays.

Entering the cafe, Anaxa sees you. With another man.

His face is stern but his heart is in inner turmoil. He watches as the man hands you the coffee as compensation, Anaxa's eye twitching when your fingers make contact with the man's.

"Hey- thanks for that. You really didn't need to. What's your name?" You smile at the man's kindness, wanting to get to know him more.

"Oh me? The name is Alias. What about you?"

"I'm [Name] nice to meet you Alias. Let's sit down and talk."

Anaxa watches from the corner as you and that man settle down, his fingers clenching around his cape.

"I reside in Okhema and came here to visit a dear friend of mine."

"Ah I thought so. You weren't dressed as a student nor a scholar so I was just wondering."

You laugh at his observation, amused at his sharp eye.

Anaxa, sits beside you his presence unwelcoming. You look up to see his stern face.

"I wasn't informed that you were at the grove." He mutters crossing his legs.

Your mouth hung agape, surprised at how quietly he managed to come up beside you. Anaxa reminded you of a cat. Silent yet vigilant.

"How did you.."

"Nevertheless, who's this new friend of yours?" Anaxa cuts you off, not wanting to answer your question. He's more interested in the man sitting across him, eyeing him from top to bottom.

"Oh Professor Anaxa."

"Anaxagoras." He corrects him, unamused. Alias mutters an apology.

"I'm Alias. I'm a student under the Nodist school."

"Alias? I heard the sages of Nodist complain about your constant pestering." Anaxa remarks, earning a pinch from you. His eye darts to yours, his face feigning innocence.

Alias laughs. "That is true. Though I'm not aware of the complaints."

"You must be deaf."

"Sorry Alias. I'll meet you later." You quickly apologised for Anaxa's manners, dragging the man outside.

"What's with you today?" You scolded him, unhappy with his hostility.

"I was merely questioning him." Anaxa raised a brow at you. He was aware of what he did but refused to admit it.

A gasp escapes your mouth as you finally connect all the dots. Does Anaxa actually? No he doesn't seem like the type of man for romance.

You laid there in your bed, your heart beats being the loudest sound in the room. You were more than aware about your own feelings for him.

You liked him. But there was no other way of knowing whether he liked you back or not. This man and his stone face is difficult to deal with.

Worst of all he doesn't even show emotion. How were you supposed to confirm whether Anaxa actually liked you back or not.

Your heart pounded at the thought.

SIGN 4 - His Words.

You stumble multiple times walking towards Anaxa's office, your mind cluttered with thoughts of rejection.

Yes, you were back at the grove once more. This time with a better reason. Settle things straight and speak your feelings.

You didn't bother to knock, hands sweaty as your hand reached for the door nob.

As the door creaked open, you got a peek at him, reading a book about disproven prophecies.

"What happened to knocking?" Anaxa muttered, not looking up from his book.

You stay silent, the words all jumbled up. The words are all caught up in your throat.

Noticing your silence he looks up, meeting your gaze. He observes your hesitance to speak.

"Is something troubling you?"

"You." You mutter out quickly, approaching his desk. Anaxa raised a brow at you, confused.

"I like you." You stop before his desk. It comes out quick and abrupt. But at least you managed to get it out.

Anaxa stops for a moment, his stone face almost cracking up. You noticed the way his jaw clenches, the way his hand balls up in a fist.

An awkward silence fills the room. He's initially shocked.

"Love. A complex phenomenon. I myself have studied it yet I brushed it off as nonsense."

Anaxa slowly mutters out, his tone softer than usual. Is he trying to rationalize this?

"I never believed in love like those fake prophecies. Yet I always find myself drawn to you. It irks me off."

You're lucky. You know that Anaxa had to push aside his pride for once to say all of this. Was this an acceptance to your confession?

"You seem to have brought me to my senses." Anaxa breathes heavily. It's an indirect yes. And he hopes you get it.

LIKES AND REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED

I finally posted something for once.

[man-i-love-fanfiction]

To Share the Space with Simple Living Things - Hozier x Fem! Florist!Reader

Chapter Five: Calla Lilies - Beauty

Summary: A sleepless night manages to bring you and Andrew together in a way neither of you would have expected.

Word Count: 3080

Author's Note: hi my darlings! hope you're all doing well. writing this fic has been so much fun so far, and this chapter was no exception, so i hope you enjoy this chapter of late-night shenanigans.

tag list: @celery-grace @gayandfairycore @deathmybride @harry-bowie-mercury @hodgepodge-musings @blue-eyed-bug @secretttytttttttttt @dinner-n-dxatribes @wub-wub-wub-wub-wub @padfootblackswh0r3

as always, fic below the cut <3

It was two in the morning and you were wide awake.

You were up against your will. There was an attempt to go to sleep, but it was a solid hour of tossing and turning that soon became futile. No matter how hard you tried you were wide awake. You wanted to go to sleep, your day being so long and exhausting you couldn’t wait until your head hit your pillow. When you tried, however, you were the most energized you had been all day. How ironic.

You had no idea what could be causing this sudden bout of insomnia. Actually, that was a lie. You had a few theories. Having coffee in the afternoon, as you did today, sometimes caused you to stay up late. There was a sort of tension your energy, though it wasn’t something that caffeine could replicate. After that, the excitement of finding your favorite movie on streaming, making yourself some popcorn and watching it in its entirety, helped you to make it to midnight.

Now there was only one thing keeping you from falling asleep.

The adrenaline from sending a stupid text. To Andrew, of all people.

It had been a month since you first met, and only three weeks since you visited his tattoo parlor, and since then you both kept your promises. You met up during lunches a few times each week, when you both were free.

It wasn't until today, however, when you realized Andrew didn't even have your number. He gave you his on the first day he met you, but that was strictly professional. Today he finally crossed over into your personal bubble. You added him to your contacts, typing in the name Andrew, but backing up upon hearing his suggestion. “You can put in Andy, if you'd like,” he had said as he peered over your shoulder. You listened to him, and now, both in your phone and your mind, he was Andy.

The rest of your day was exhausting, mentally and physically. It was one of your busiest days in a while, which in theory was fantastic, but in practice leaned more towards stressful. Not to mention one coworker was sick and the other had a family emergency, meaning everything that happened today was solely in your hands. So much running around and so many orders that most of your day was a blur of petals. There wasn't even enough time for you to use flower language., picking flowers based on aesthetic appeal and not meaning. It pained you to do it every time.

Fast forward past eating a Chinese take-out dinner and watching a comfort romcom to now. You were lying in your bed, staring at the ceiling, so hopeless you were considering even counting sheep. You were recounting the events of the day in your head. Anything to get you to sleep faster. When you arrived to Andrew— Andy — giving you his number, you paused, and in a moment on spontaneity that could have been only caused by sleep deprivation, you reached for your phone off the nightstand and unlocked it.

You opened the page for his contact, and in your tired and frankly emotionally unstable state, you thought it would be a good idea to text him. After midnight. For the first time.

It wasn't anything salacious, just a simple “hi”. Not even capitalized, which was your try at being casual. There weren't any ulterior motives, either; an attempt at starting a conversation was all that it was. Still, you regretted that text the moment it was sent.

Cursing yourself, you went to delete your message, only to find he had already seen it.

Shit. No backing down now.

You went to type an excuse, that it was meant for someone else and you were sorry to text him so late and you promised you weren't under the influence.

Until you saw three dots pop up on his side. He was texting back.

Shit. Again.

There was no way he was of sound body and mind and texting you so late. What if he was drunk (or even worse, completely sober) and thought you wanted a hookup? Would you be completely opposed to that? Of course you would be. You had morals and standards and he had hands you couldn't stop staring at and tattoos that caused your mind to wander—

Your phone buzzed, jolting you out of your thinking. He sent his text: Hey. It was followed by Is everything alright?, a valid question considering the circumstances, but a small pang of guilt ran through you at the idea of worrying him. You took a moment to think before typing out your reply.

everything is fine! i can't sleep, that's all.

just thought i’d say hello.

Hoping your explanation would suffice, you watched your screen as, almost immediately, he typed back.

Do you usually text at odd hours of the night?

You shook your head as if he could see you and typed again.

nope. you're just special.

extra perks for being such a loyal patron.

An almost immediate reply came from his end.

Right, I’m your favorite customer. I almost forgot my title.

Suddenly you were much more open to the idea of staying up. What was another hour without sleep? If anything, you could take tomorrow— today, really — off and spend the day napping and over-analyzing every text. All you’d have to do is pop in to the shop and make sure the sign said you were closed. A foolproof plan.

As you wrapped up planning your next sleep-deprived twelve hours, your phone buzzed again.

Might as well attempt to have a normal conversation, right?

How was your day?

He always was so considerate. You chose your words carefully in your reply, sugarcoating the type of day you had.

my day was crazy to say the least.

to the point that it might be why i’m losing sleep

You didn’t want to be a burden, so you kept it short and sweet. It always gave you such a guilt to lament to others if you had a bad day or an overall unpleasant experience. According to his reply, Andy hadn’t thought of it like that at all.

Would you want to call instead? To talk about it?

His question stopped you for a moment, and you debated on some pros and cons before typing out your response.

sure.

but no video calling. i look a mess.

The very large pro of getting to hear his voice outweighed the various other cons, which you now had trouble remembering.

I doubt that. I can’t imagine you not looking great.

He had to be doing this on purpose, specifically sending messages that could be considered flirting, all with the purpose of making your heart flutter. You had to acknowledge how juvenile the whole experience was. Getting flustered over a text was something you would've done as a teenager, and never would have imagined you'd be doing at your grown age.

But I’ll spare you the video call to save you from my disheveled state.

You breathed out a laugh, and positioned yourself so that you were sitting up.

You pressed the button to call him and waited with bated breath. One ring. Then another. Then another. Until he picked up.

“Hey,” he said, and you could even hear him smiling through the phone.

“Hi.”

As usual, Andrew was overthinking.

Sending him a text so late had to be a mistake. It was meant for another friend or a confidant, surely; someone you would be comfortable with knowing that you were up so late. Not him, who you'd only known for a month and yes, had gotten closer to, but not this close.

He took the opportunity he was given to get to know you better, to feel like friends instead of awkward acquaintances. He found himself smiling down at his screen, sometimes even laughing at what you were saying. But it wasn’t without its challenges.

Texting was much too confusing of a method of conversation for him, especially conversation with you. Where did banter cross the line into flirting? If such a line did exist, it felt like you both were playing jump rope with it. And why is it so hard to tell someone’s tone over text? How was he supposed to know if you truly meant what you said?

If he meant what he said?

Of course he did. Every image of you in his mind was gorgeous. He wouldn’t— he couldn’t — lie about that.

Negotiating out of a video call was a smart decision on both of your parts, considering neither of you looked your best. He certainly didn't, in an old pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt so worn-out he couldn't tell you what band logo was on it if he tried. He couldn’t help but visualize you on the other end, hair probably messy and undone, wearing only an over-sized shirt and shorts, leaving your legs and your thighs exposed—

Even though he was expecting it, the sound of his ringtone caused him to jump.

For most of his contacts, a call past midnight would be sent to voicemail and called back after ten minutes and a message saying he was “asleep” and had “just woken up from the sound of his ringtone” and various other lies he used to convince others he had a normal sleep schedule. You were an exception to this, along with seemingly every other rule Andrew had in his life.

So for your call, he accepted it, but not before letting it ring a few times at the risk of seeming too desperate.

Who had you turned him into?

There was no point in resisting the smile on his face when he finally indulged himself and answered.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

He wished there wasn’t any awkwardness between you, that there weren’t any lulls in your conversations. But life is not a romantic comedy, and he was too… tense when it came to you. It wasn’t until an uncomfortable amount of time passed that he spoke again, leaning towards his phone.

“So, how are you?”

“That's a loaded question . Why don't you start?”

“Oh, I’m grand, thank you very much.”

He couldn’t sit still, even if he tried. The (very unnecessary) nerves he was feeling wouldn’t let him. In fact, they dragged him out of his bed and to his kitchen. They took out his kettle, put some water to boil, and grabbed some teabags. His mouth helped to keep the conversation going as he rambled about his day. Your conversation went on normally, only interrupted when his kettle whistled.

“What's that I hear on the other end?”

“Oh, I’m making myself some tea. Always helps me get to sleep.”

“Wow, trying to get rid of me already, Andy?”

He raised his eyebrows, momentarily forgetting he had given you permission to call him by the nickname.

“More like trying to prevent how much I’ll hate myself in the morning if I don't go to sleep soon.”

He could hear you hum in agreement, and waited a second before speaking again.

“Anyways, tell me about this hellish day of yours.”

He could hear you exhale into the phone and prepared himself to listen intently to what would be a long rant.

“Well, first of all, work was busy. It was a Saturday, and that is usually the day when we’re at our busiest, but today was almost…abnormal. I won’t lie, it was overwhelming. In the grand scheme of things, though, it's good. We need more days like today. Otherwise…”

“Otherwise what?”

He was afraid of the answer, but he asked it anyway. Your voice lowered, like someone else could hear your conversation.

“You're the only person outside of my job I’m telling this to, so please don't spread this, but if we don't start making more sales, we might foreclose. I just found out today.”

His heart sank. It took a moment for him to sputter out a reply, initially too shocked to speak.

“You're kidding! Is there something you could do?”

“Well, I looked into it, and my options are limited. I’m not selling the property, and I’m sure as hell not giving up the deed. I’d have to negotiate something else but even then, we might not have the money to keep going.”

“That’s… horrible.”

Another silence, one that resembled a mourning period. He let you wait it out, knowing it was hard for you to even think about losing the shop.

“So, yeah. That caused a few gray hairs this morning. And then, as the cherry on top of this shitfest sundae of a day, my mom called. Usually not a problem, except she asked me the one question I dread the most.”

“And what is that?”

“‘When are you going to find a nice man and settle down? You can't do this flower thing forever.’ Like it's not my job! My job that I absolutely love, and she knows it.”

“I can only imagine how invalidated that makes you feel.”

“Thank you for recognizing that. It's extremely invalidating. As for the settling down bit, I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it. I’d need a man to be interested in me first.”

He had no idea what came over him when he started his sentence, but the words left his mouth quicker than he could think.

“I mean, if you really wanted to, I-”

All that momentary courage just to be cut off by a comment you made, likely intended as a joke, but one that still caused him to come to a stop.

“You have a friend I could try?”

He retracted away from the phone at your words, just slightly. He knew you weren't serious but just the thought of it made him nauseous.

It stayed silent for a beat. He waited for you to say something, anything, because he was not initiating that conversation. You spoke after a painstaking few seconds.

“I’m kidding.”

The silence between you hung in the air and twisted into awkwardness.

“Not funny?”

“Not funny,” he replied, shaking his head solemnly. “For the purpose of setting boundaries… I’d prefer if you didn’t make jokes like that.”

Your voice was dripping with guilt when you spoke again.

“I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry. Truly. The boundary is set, and I promise we'll return to my regular scheduled programming of being hilarious and never shutting up.”

“I accept your apology. And don’t say that kind of stuff. I like your excessive bouts of talking.”

“Even if it’s about my flowers?”

A small chuckle on your end let him know the conversation had become lighter again, and he laughed as well.

“Especially if it’s about your flowers.”

“Speaking of, how’s my beautiful bouquet doing? Is she working her magic?”

“Oh, yeah. She’s got tons of compliments.”

“Let me know if it needs a touch-up. The calla lilies typically only last two weeks, and I just got a new shipment, so if anything starts to wilt inexplicably, just tell me and I’ll be there."

“Calla lilies. Those mean beauty, right?”

He heard you let out some noise of confusion, and was afraid he had said something wrong, coming off as a weirdo for suddenly knowing about your interest or not getting his facts correct. He hadn’t even noticed his breath was suspended in throat until he exhaled, set free from the sound of your voice on the other end.

“…Yeah, they do. Not to sound rude, but… how do you know that?”

“A few weeks ago, I couldn’t sleep, so I found a website with an entire list of flora and their meanings and I was actually… really interested. It still put me to sleep, but I learned a few things along the way.”

“Andy, that’s amazing! I’m so excited, I finally have someone to talk about this with. Maybe you could even help me pick out some flowers for a bouquet.”

“I’ll leave that to you, I think.”

“Considering I get paid for it, that's a good idea.”

You keep conversing for a while, topics ranging widely, though slowly Andrew could tell you were starting to feel the effects of the night. He heard you let out a yawn, followed by you pardoning yourself. Over time, your words slowly dissolved into mumbles and deep breaths, and after waiting a moment…

Silence. He put two and two together.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

You couldn’t hear him, but he said it anyway.

There seemed to be a common sentiment among your friends that nothing good happens after two a.m. It was an idea stolen from a sitcom years ago and only proven true ever since, from long-term relationships breaking up to retching onto and completely ruining heels worth hundreds of dollars.

You bent that rule slightly. Good things can happen after two a.m., but you have to suffer the consequences, a headache only made worse by your refusal to rest being one of them. A secondary consequence being the burden of not physically seeing each other today. Overall, the remainder of your necessary day of rest was refreshing, if not filled with multiple power naps and your conversations with Andrew not leaving your head.

Andy didn't get this easy way out. He had an appointment made months beforehand, and it would be horrible of him to cancel on such short notice. He got some sleep after he hung up. Three hours to be exact. Nothing that couldn’t be balanced out by a black coffee and deluding himself into feeling awake. He’d done it so often it was almost like clockwork, training himself to run on very little sleep. Unfortunately, his one appointment of the day took almost five hours to complete, and he did feel his eyelids droop more than once. Thank goodness his work wasn’t affected.

Your conversation also carried on into the day, him texting in between breaks, not wanting to spend a moment where you two weren't communicating. He could put his past grievances with texting as a medium aside.

There was only one thing you said throughout the day that stopped him in his tracks.

i forgot to ask last night, but why were you up so late?

He took a few minutes to reply, contemplated how to tell you the truth, but not in it’s entirety

I was thinking.

He left out what he was thinking about, what caused his sleepless night.

You.

[throwawayhero]

hii!! could u please do headcannons for katsuki in a relationship with a trans man reader?? Tysm!!

Of course lovely! And thank you so much for sending in a request! Please feel free to correct any mistakes that I make, but I'll try my best! I wasn't exactly sure how to make the hc's specifically relationship orientated, so it's sort of a thin line sorry! c/w; afab, lgbtqia+, course language, menstruation, no quirks mentioned

He honestly had no clue you were trans when the two of you met for the first time. He had no reason to. And tbh, he didn't give a fuck when you told him. He sort of just.. shrugged and moved on? Nothing more, nothing less. But if you weren't already out when you met him and you realised how you truly felt a bit into the friendship.. he still didn't give a fuck! He accepted you, obviously, and he 'encouraged' you, in his own way, to test things out.

"Okay? Fuck does that have to do with me?"

He especially liked helping you pick out clothes. When asked to go with you to go clothes shopping, he would complain and tell you to get someone else to go with you.. but he would still grab his keys and rush you out the door (: (That's why your style is majorly inspired by his.)

When you told him what your new name was, he immediately said that it was better than your other "shitty ass" name. He also changed your contact name as soon as he could.

When you got your first masc hair cut you didn't tell him beforehand, so when you bumped into him and surprised him with it he stared at it for a good minute with a frown before saying that it looked better than the "rats nest" you had before. Bonus points if you did any form of bleaching and/or dyeing it, he says it makes you look less boring.

"At least now you look like you actually have a personality."

If he catches someone calling/referring to you by your deadname, whether it was intentional or not, he's onto their ass IMMEDIATLEY and he is NOT polite about it. He will sass them tf up.

"Who's that? Oh, you mean ****, right?" "Come again?" / "Excuse you?" / "Pardon?"

Kinda had no idea what binders were before you told him what they were used for. Insisted you got ones with cool designs and called you boring for getting solid colour ones only.

Genuinely became so much more involved with the LGBTQIA+ community because of you. His first Mardi Gras was a night he will literally never forget, for both good and bad reasons. If you dare MENTION a feather boa, he'll start having flashbacks.

He doesn't put that much thought into his sexuality. He's just the type of person to not gaf, yk? Call him what you want, he wasn't gonna sit there and confirm or deny. He just knew that he had been attracted to girls and guys his whole life, regardless of the extra stuff.

When you got your period for the first time around him he was pretty neutral about it. When you mentioned the dysphoria it gave you he did try his best to console you, but it just ended up making you laugh. He really did try to keep you distracted, even if he struggled exponentially. He let you use his Netflix to watch a movie/TV show while you hung out. ACTUALLY understood that cramps hurt like a bitch and gave you pain relief and snacks.

"Jeans cannot be comfortable for you right now, ya masochist."

Went with you to every T-shot appointment. He wasn't obvious about it but he always made sure that his hand was there for you to hold if you got paranoid about the needle hurting. Noticed the effects quicker than everyone else and claimed that he "won" at being the most supportive.

"You guys suck at this."

He helped you save up for top & bottom surgery and surprised you with the rest of the money you needed on a random Tuesday night. He'd never admit it but he "almost" teared up at the sight of how happy you were that night. And you'll pretend like you never saw the tear roll down his cheek.

[nhlmcfilthy]

Everything we haven't said yet

I have no idea where this came from, but I certainly have *Feeeeeelings* There's definitely a part two, I just haven't gotten there. Will take any and all suggestions though.

Summary: A night in with roommate Arber Xhekaj is full of sexual tension and things heat up when your boyfriend Kaiden Guhle gets home

Word count: 4.5K (this got super long...whoops)

CW: basically just pure filth in the second half. Unprotected sex but it’s safe & consensual. Maybe infidelity if you squint

Pairing: Female reader/Kaiden Guhle/Arber Xhekaj

So, you've been with Kaiden Guhle for years, coming up in the WHL. The two of you are a unit - solid in your relationship, but lately things have been feeling stale. Maybe it's that he's in the NHL and you're in school and you're not making as much time for each other, or maybe things have just become monotonous. You've discussed this a bit, treading lightly, and you both agree you want to shake/spice things up, but you're not sure what. Maybe in the off season you'll get a better chance. Enter Arber Xhekaj. You literally run into him one day while you're on your phone heading to meet Kaiden. You mutter something about him being a tree of a man. He looks at you weird and you're kind of taken aback by his face. Unconventionally handsome, he automatically draws you in.

Kaiden appears behind him and smiles "great, you've met." He explains that Arber is going to be living with you for a bit since he's not sure if he's staying up in the NHL or not. You and Arber end up spending time together in the mornings as Kaiden is an early riser and you and Arber are NOT. You make coffee for each other depending on who is up first. Unlike his play on the ice, he's actually really sweet in person. You're both also nighthawks and you like the same tv shows and movies so Kaiden will sometimes head to bed early and the two of you will stay up talking.

Kaiden is happy that the two of you are getting along, and the three of you often hang out together. You go out for dinner as a group or all go grocery shopping. Arber is really respectful of your relationship with Kaiden, giving the two of you space when you want to have a date night, but he is also just a very affectionate guy, touches your back when he opens a door, curls up on the couch and lets you put your legs up on his lap.

It's been nice having him around, kinda taking the stress off of thinking about your relationship. One night Arber comes home and he's all cut up. Got into a nasty fight. Kaiden has family in town and he's out late with them. You had to study tonight so you bailed on dinner with them. You take one look at Arber and go to the freezer, take out an ice pack and get a tea towel to wrap it up in, leaving it on the counter for him. You head to the bathroom to get the first aid kit, make the coffee (putting just cream in because you know that's how he likes it). He's sitting at the kitchen table, hands ready, and you clean and bandage all his cuts. All of this is done wordlessly, just the hum of the fridge running in the background.

You used to do this all the time for Kaiden when he was in the WHL. He got in way more scraps then. You'd always finish with taking his hands and giving them a kiss, and as you bring Arber's hands down from you mouth, you realized what you've just done. The both of you stare at each other for seconds that feel like hours. He swallows hard and sticks out his chin, a challenging look on his face. "You gonna do that to this one too?" he asks, finally letting go of your hands and bringing one up to his cheek. You match his glare and lean over the table and kiss his cheek lightly over a bruised cut at the top of his cheekbone. He breathes in sharply, you don't know if it's from the kiss, or the buise, or both.

You both sit there, silently staring at your coffee. You finally look up at him, searching, looking for the next move. Who's going to speak first. "What?" he says, grinning sheepishly, like he didn't just ask you to kiss him. "Your face" you say, not sure why, not sure about where this is going. Not sure you want it to be going anywhere. "What about it" he asks, sort of bashfully, looking down. "It's nice” you say, at a loss for words. Really just saying exactly what you're thinking. This moment feels awkward, but honest. He blushes, actually blushes, and sips his coffee. His giant hands pretty much wrap around the whole mug. You can't believe this big bully is just sitting there, blushing like a child.

This is nothing new to you though, this dichotomy. Kaiden plays a really smart, understated game. He's so even keel in real life, but in the bedroom, and if he needs to on the ice, he's a dominating presence. He's aggressive and punishing and intense and you love it. When you see him fight, it gets you so hot and he knows it and always comes home ready to go.

He leaves bruises and bitemarks and you've had to come up with some creative ways to cover up over the years. Things are still passionate between the two of you, that's never a problem, but you both agree something has been missing. You've become complacent.

You've never thought about bringing someone else into your relationship, but Arber already feels like a part of it. An exciting part, something you've maybe been looking for.

You and Arber both start to speak at once and do the "no, you first" dance and eventually you both laugh and some of the tension dissipates. There's still a low level current running, but the surface is calm. "TV?" you suggest, and he nods, grabbing his coffee mug and holding his ice pack to his face. "Whatever you want" he says, and you throw on The Office, which you've both seen a hundred times and feels safe. You grab your coffee mug and make a few trips, dragging your books over to the couch, and make a nest of blankets and pillows. He sits down on the other end of the couch and waits for you to put your legs up on his lap, as usual. The moment heightens again but you put your feet up. He lays an arm across them, hand falling over the top of your ankle. God, his hands are so big.

The both of you settle in and the show lulls you into its story, even though you're still copying notes and Arber is on his phone. About halfway into the first episode, you realize that his thumb is drawing circles over the bony lump on the inside of your ankle and you wonder if he's always done that, or if this is new. Are you only noticing it now because of what happened earlier?

The episode ends and the next one starts. You put your notes away and shuffle around to get comfortable lying down. You move your feet on Arber's lap and he inhales sharply through his teeth and grips your ankle tightly and you go to look over at him questioningly until you realize that your foot has rubbed up against his dick. His boner to be precise. You freeze and he adjusts his position, letting go of your ankle, and you whisper "sorry" at him and he responds with "it's okay" and it's so deep and husky and he coughs and clears his throat and neither of you can look each other in the eye. You both intensely focus on the tv until your heart rate levels and he puts his hand back on your foot, this time lightly massaging inside the arch. God, his hands are good. You wonder what else they'd be good at.

You start to feel guilty sitting there, curled up on the couch with your partner's closest friend and teammate (who's sporting a rock hard dick) running his thumb up and down the arch of your foot, and you're definitely turned on.

You realize you've been feeling these vibes from Arber for a while. Every time you spend time together it's a balance of complete comfort and safety, and also a dangerous edge of attraction. You still call him tree-man from your first interaction and he calls you weird girl, but it's affectionate. You speak about books and things you've read online that Kaiden would never be interested in. He's opened up a whole other side of your personality that no one in hockey would be interested in. He's surprisingly cultured.

You need Kaiden to come home soon or you feel like you'll just be riding this tension forever. The next episode starts and neither of you makes a move to stop it.

Finally about halfway through the next episode, Kaiden come in the door and you both visibly relax. Your shoulders lower and Arber rocks his head back and forth, stretching his neck. Kaiden asks you for some help with the leftovers he's brought home from the restaurant and you get up (raising your feet off Arber's lap with little contact and absolutely no eye contact) and walk over peeking in the boxes "any dessert?" you ask. "Of course baby, there's a cheesecake in there for you." "mmm my favourite" you reply and wait for him to throw his backpack down and put your arms around his neck. He comes in for a quick kiss, but you pull him back in and deepen it. You need something, anything to ease this tension. He makes a surprised sound in his throat as you suck on his bottom lip (which you know drives him crazy) and he puts his arms around your lower back and pulls you in tighter.

It's not weird, per se, for you to make out in front of Arber, but this feels charged. After a quick but heated kiss, Kaiden trails down your neck and bites lightly and you open your eyes and see Arber staring at you. You maintain eye contact as Kaiden hits a sweet spot right above your collarbone and you cry out and Arber swallows and his jaw tenses. He coughs lightly and Kaiden looks up. "Oh sorry buddy, didn't see you there" he says, oblivious to what is occurring between the two of you. "All good bud, I'm just heading out to meet Slaf for a bit, catch you later" you notice he's adjusted himself again as he stands up. He walks away and you stare at his back. You are pretty sure he's aware of your gaze, but you can't stop watching as he walks away. He doesn't look back as he grabs his keys and jacket on his way out.

The door closes and you drag your gaze back to Kaiden, who has taken out a spoon for the cheesecake and has helped himself to a bit. "Hey, that's mine!" you say as you try to grab the spoon before he puts it in his mouth, but he is far too tall for this to be anything more than a failed attempt. You do manage to grab his arm so he half misses his mouth and smears his cheek with cheesecake. "Hah" you say "that's what you get for trying to steal my cheesecake" and you smile. "oh yeah? What are you gonna do about it?" he asks, smiling cheekily and you reach up and pull his face down closer to yours and you drag your tongue up the side of his face, somewhat licking the cheesecake off him, but mostly smearing it further.

He locks eyes with you and your shudder as he says "you better clean that up" in a deep, authoritative voice. You tilt his head to a better angle and gently lick, removing all the cheesecake from his face, take the spoon from his hand and scoop a huge piece from the container into your mouth and moan in approval "mmm delicious" you say wiggling your eyebrows at him.

Kaiden moves in on you and takes the spoon from your hand and lays it on the counter. He crowds you until he pushes you up against the island in the kitchen, arms on either side of you. "You're feisty today. I didn't even get in a fight." You laugh, knowing you'll have to tell him about the tension with Arber but wanting to pick the right moment. Right now, you don't think you could form more words than "want" and "need." Kaiden leans in and his lips graze the shell of your ear. "I don't know what's gotten you all worked up baby, but I can take care of it" he says, biting down your neck again. You just groan and say "please."

"What do you need, baby?" he asks, his hands sliding up your sides and under your sweater. He finds your breasts and this thumbs skim over your nipples over your bra. You let out a whimper and he repeats himself "tell me what you need, baby." You swallow hard and look up into his eyes. "You. I...I need you." He pulls your sweater over your head, leaving you in your bra in the middle of the kitchen. "How do you want me" he asks. You gaze into his eyes, he's so intense during sex, and you love how you completely lose control under him.

You're a pretty competent woman on your own, and your relationship is pretty balanced but in the bedroom you lose all control. He takes over. You tell him what you want and he does it. "Hard and fast" you say, losing yourself in this intense eye contact. He nods and grabs the back of your thighs as you put your arms around his neck and he lifts you onto the counter.

You go to wrap your legs around his waist, but he pulls your legs open and says "patience baby." You let out a sigh on a moan and let go of his neck, bracing your arms behind you and spreading your legs. He leans in and whispers "let's get rid of these now" and a needy moan escapes you. You lift your hips up and he peels off your leggings, still not breaking eye contact. He runs a hand up your leg, and when he gets to your panties, he stops and looks down. "Jesus, baby, you're soaked already" and you just nod and say "need you."

He rubs you through the wet fabric and a throaty moan escapes your lips with his name. "Let’s take care of this for you" he says, kissing down your neck. He moves your hand to your underwear and says "play with yourself while I get undressed. I want to watch you" and your face heats up. You love being watched by him.

His gaze burns into you as he unbuttons his top, pulls it out of his pants, and unbuckles his belt. You slip your hand into your panties and groan at the wetness down there. You've been wet for hours, since you discovered Arber's hard-on, and you can't wait to finally get a release. You take a few deep breaths as Kaiden sheds his pants and walks towards you, boxers starting to tent in the front. You go to wrap your legs around him again, but he still pushes them apart. "No baby, I want to taste you" and he slides his hands down your sides and you lower to your elbows. He peels off your panties and tosses them behind him. He breathes deep as he takes you in, spread before him.

"Kaiden, please" you moan. You feel like you've been turned on for hours and don't know how much longer you can last. He moves his face between your legs and his breath on your centre makes you shiver. He kisses the outside of your thighs and you squirm needing action. A long, high pitched moan comes out of your mouth. He laughs and his breath tickles your pussy and before he can react, he dives in. Tongue in your folds fingers spreading you apart, no hesitation. "Yesss" you exhale, finally getting what you crave. "Mmmm baby you taste so good" he moans into you and you arch into it, feeling a bit of relief. He expertly navigates you, like a car he's read the manual for in detail. This is where the strength of your relationship lies. You know each other so well, there's not need for direction.

Maybe what you're looking for is the surprise. Every time Arber reacted to you today was new and exciting. How different his hands felt than Kaiden's. How his face was a bit scratchier than Kaiden's because of the stubble. The thrill you felt when you accidentally brushed up against him when he was hard on the couch, how tightly he gripped your ankle. All of it new and exciting. Maybe you could have that again.

You groan as Kaiden puts a finger inside you and twists it to the spot you both know is going to get you there fast. His tongue still teases your clit and you're really not going to last long. Your breath is coming in quick and you're mumbling incoherently, mostly just saying "Kaiden" and "baby" and "yes" and he hums in appreciation and curls his fingers in exactly the right place and the combination of the vibrations and him hitting the spot makes you yell out. It's almost guttural, you don't think you've ever moaned like that before. You've just been on such a low grade turn on all evening that this release feels spectacularly good. Kaiden kisses your thighs as you ride his fingers and come down.

He looks at you sort of quizzically. He's never heard you make that particular noise either. You take his face in your hands and just say "so good to me, baby" and you hold each other's gaze for the next few minutes.

He leans down to kiss you gently. It's restrained, you can tell. He wants more, but knows that this is your moment...for now. "Be right back" he says, a deep husk to his voice.

He's so understatedly strong. Lean, muscular. You watch him walk away, still half orgasm drunk, appreciating all the muscles on his back and legs. And of course, his ass. The material on his boxes is being pulled by his erection, and it perfectly highlights his round ass.

He comes back with a warm, wet face cloth to clean you up, kissing your legs while he does. You gather your clothes scattered in the kitchen and walk to the bedroom. You look over your shoulder and see him staring at you, dark promise behind his eyes. "You coming baby?" you ask. "I mean, I hope so, you already have" you giggle and he stalks towards you. You playfully run to the room and throw your clothes aside, only beating him there by seconds.

He grabs you from behind and pulls you into him, one hand over your stomach and the other sliding up to your neck. "Mmmm" he moans into your ear "so naughty tonight, getting eaten out right there in the kitchen." You feel so relaxed now, one orgasm in, and you press yourself back against him. "What are you gonna do about it? you ask, slowly grinding your ass against him. "I think" he says, grabbing your hips and pushing you towards the bed. "I’m going to take you from behind." He slides an arm up your back and shoves you down.

You go, willingly, crawling onto the bed, and you feel him follow behind you. You feel all charged up again, ready for round two.

"God, you're so hot like this" he says, running a hand up your back, the other one grabs your ass and slides a thumb between your two, round cheeks. You arch your back and lean into him, already over this teasing and just wanting to go again. "Mmm so needy for me, aren't you baby." You feel his hand leave your ass and you wait for the slap you know is coming. It connects with a hard CLAP and you moan, pressing further back. "So fucking naughty baby. God you love it, don't you" he says running his hand over the stinging surface, but you know another one is coming.

He connects again, harder this time, and you grip the sheets as the sting wears down. This time he brings his mouth up to soothe you. His hot tongue, tracing the round of your ass. Soft, warm comfort.

"Kaiden, baby, please" you cry. You're already soaking again. You're feeling insatiable tonight, but you know he'll take care of you.

"What do you want, baby? Tell me how you want it."

"Like this" you say "hard, fast, make me cum like this" you say, feeling him move around.

You stopped using condoms a while ago. You're on birth control and you had both been tested. You trust each other. The first night Kaiden came inside you, it was intense. He came so fast and so hard and just stared at your pussy afterwards - watching his release leak out from you.

He surprises you by pushing your legs further apart and you groan as he runs a finger along your folds, pouring himself over your body. "So wet again, did I not satisfy you the first time?" he asks and you can hear his grin. He knows full well how loud you moaned as you came on the kitchen island. "So good, baby, want more." He circles your clit lightly and you feel yourself light up. You tense all over and he runs a hand down your back "Shhh, baby, I'm gonna make you feel so good" he says as he guides himself inside you.

He slides inside you slowly, but you know he won't be taking his time for much longer. He stops when he's fully inside you, pushing you forward so you feel his full length. His dick isn't particularly thick, it's just very long. Fills you up completely. As he pushes your hips forward, you moan, grabbing a pillow to bury your face in it.

"You ready baby? You said hard and fast, you still want it?" You nod into the pillow, but he doesn't move. "Tell me. Tell me you want it" he says, his grip tightening on your hips. You moan loudly. "Use our words" you can feel the restraint in his voice, he's ready to lose it and you can't wait anymore. "Yes, baby, fuck me, please. Hard. I'm" you swallow hard, anticipating what's to come "I'm ready." You barely finish saying it before he's fully pulled out of you and slamming back in.

Hard thrusts inside you bring out a guttural moan from your lips. "That's right, baby. You love it. You love it when I fuck you hard from behind, don't you. You love taking all this dick like a good little girl." Your eyes roll back. He knows how much you love being called a good girl. It used to embarrass you, but with Kaiden, you know he loves talking to you like this.

The room is silent, all you hear is your body, slapping against his. He thrusts inside a few more times, and then stops, buried deep and groans loudly. "Fuck' he drags the sound out. "So fucking tight." He leans over your back and bites your neck. "Is this what you needed baby? Is this what you want?" "Yes" you exhale deeply.

"God, you're so fucking hot like this, taking me so rough" he starts bucking into you again, somehow even harder than before, your whole body moving with the impact. He's still poured over you, but he's so tall, his body is so long, that he can still take you like this. It's like the two of you are connected, moving as one.

He raises himself up again, running a hand up your back and grabbing a handful of your hair. You arch back into it, letting him control, somehow finding a deeper angle. "Kaiden" you moan.

He's found a hard, punishing rhythm now, and you lean into it, backing into him as hard as he's giving it to you. He groans with a few thrusts, appreciating your effort.

He lets go of your hair and your face falls back into the pillow. You can feel him losing his grip of control. He's not going to last much longer.

His angle adjusts again and then you feel his palm connect with your backside again. Not as hard as before, he can't get that great an angle like this, but it still stings. You cry out "yes, Kaiden, yes, just like that."

"You close baby?" he asks, barely disguising how close he's getting. His voice is deep and rough, and you can hear his breathing speeding up. "Yes, please, touch me" you say, breathlessly and his fingers find your clit immediately.

Somehow his touch is soft, even though he's pounding into you. He strokes softly, if not incredibly accurately, but this is like a game of Russian roulette. You never know when he's going to hit the spot that's like fireworks inside you. He's come close a few times and you're clenching so hard around him, you feel his grip on your hip tighten as he hits the spot at the right time and you feel a snap inside.

He groans as you grip him tightly and you can feel him start to release inside you, quick uncontrolled thrusts as he cries out your name, still stroking you through orgasm. The two of you wind together, slowing your pace, taking and giving everything you have. He pours himself over you, breathing heavily in your ear.

"Sorry, I'll move in a second" he says between breaths. "S'ok, I like it" you say, relishing in his weight on top of you. He does eventually move, bringing you another warm cloth to clean up, and takes care of himself too.

The two of you go through the motions of getting ready for bed. He pulls you close under the covers and you fall asleep pressed up against his chest, his heartbeat a calming rhythm.

Your eyes suddenly open and it's pitch dark. You're not sure what's woken you up until you hear the front door close. Arber is home.

You have this strange urge to go out there and see him. Touch his face, run your hands over his chest. Kiss him. And do what then? You meant to talk to Kaiden about it, after, but he really wore you out tonight, and you were pretty exhausted from all the tension.

You lie in bed, listening to Arber move around, open the fridge, he's probably going through your leftovers now. You smile, just knowing he's there. Safe. With you and Kaiden. You fall back asleep and dream about him coming into the room and falling asleep with you and Kaiden. The three of you. Part two coming..?

[i-will-cry-you-a-river]

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Fall: I’ve been wondering, how did you get into writing? You seem like you’ve got such a strong grasp on it. It’s kind of intimidating, honestly. You are way too good with your words, especially compared to us, mere mortals.

Shen Yuan smirked as he typed out his reply, leaning back against his hospital bed.

Shizun: You flatterer! But honestly, I’ve spent way too much time hate-reading terrible webnovels and thought, ‘Well, I can’t do worse than this’. Writing fanfiction was kind of a last-ditch effort to keep my sanity after reading PIDW for so long. And…

He started to hit backspace but hit enter instead. Shit.

It took a minute for Fall to answer. Against his hopes, not without asking about that ‘and’.

Fall: “And…”?

Fall: But LOL. I should have known that nothing can beat spite. Not sure if you know - probably you do, since you love PIDW’s world so much -, but there's a commenter, Peerless_Cucumber, who is like that. The angrier he gets, the more eloquent he writes. Barring all the swearing, LOL.

Fall: Shit! Wait. No. Now that I think about it, please, don't check him out! If you two would collaborate, you could take over the world.

Shen Yuan couldn't decide whether to cry or laugh. It seemed, it was a good decision not using his Peerless_Cucumber acc, but it was quite strange to read about himself. Maybe he should tell Fall it was him.

Hahaha. No. Fuck, no.

Shizun: Hahaha, I know about him! Would it be strange if I'd say that I kinda use his long-ass comments/essays as bases for improvement? He is always so detailed with all the problems and issues, it is much better to use those instead of the fan Wiki.

Shizun: So… about the “and”.

Shizun: I used to be quite sickly when I was young. I spent a lot of time in the hospital, and I found out that reading and writing was a wonderful way to forget about the real world. Funnily enough, I'm actually at the hospital rn, turning towards writing once more.

It took a little longer for Fall to answer. Biting into his mouth, Shen Yuan hoped that it wasn't too personal too soon. Shen Yuan glanced at the IV drip beside him, the sterile smell of the hospital room filling his senses. It wasn't that bad.

It wasn't good either.

He wanted to go home. Home had his own bed. Home had his PIDW merch and his favorite pillow his er-ge forbid to bring him to the hospital.

Fall: Oh, shit. That sucks.

Fall: I get that. Reading (and maybe writing, but you may never know) is a safe space for me too. It helps to forget about all the problems in the world, to imagine you are somewhere else, in a better place. Also, I hope you are doing okay! I'm also in a similar situation, so high five bro! (Kinda managed to do something very, very stupid. Did you know that ramen is liquid and liquid does not go well with electricity?)

Fall: On a lighter note, I really think that you are good at writing. You should try to do original work if you want to - you are, like, natural at balancing world-building and character development. I'm kinda jealous, but I've learned a lot just from reading your fic.

Shen Yuan blinked at the screen. It was one thing for random commenters to leave praise, but for some reason, hearing it from Fall felt... different. He found himself smiling stupidly, warmth blooming in his chest. Fall was just so…

He was lovely.

A great “bro”, it seemed. Way to be bro zoned.

Shizun: First of all, don't you dare to

sell yourself short! Not on my watch! You’ve got some pretty good ideas yourself. I can tell from your comments you’ve got a solid grasp on storytelling. Second, what the fuck, Fall?? You okay???

There was a longer pause before Fall replied. Shen Yuan knew that logically, Fall had to be safe, since he could write - they had been communicating constantly for the last two weeks -, but that didn't make it less scary. To know that Fall could have…

To think that Shen Yuan could have died… if either of them died…

They could have never met. It was a strangely disturbing and upsetting thought.

Fall: I'm good, I'm good! Dw!

Fall: Okay, but consider this: I don't think anybody would be interested in what I'd write. What I would like to write about.

Shen Yuan only had one answer to that:

Shizun: I'd read that.

Fall didn't reply for a long time after that, but that was okay. Shen Yuan assumed he needed some time to think about it, and that was okay. He just hoped his friend would realize how much Shen Yuan thought the world of him. He believed in Fall, even if Fall didn't believe in himself.

Shen Yuan, after all, had experience in believing in authors with great potential, who lacked the spine to be themselves and write what they wanted, instead of what the majority of the people demanded.

-*-*-*-

Fall: I've been thinking a lot about SJ and the way you portrayed him handling the Immortal Alliance Conference. It was fascinating to see the parallels. Him killing WY, who murdered those kids to save YQY versus him throwing LBH into the Abyss, believing that he, as a demonic cultivator, also killed all those kids. It was such a great moment! Shocking, because I think we all thought he would not do it since your SQQ wasn't as brutal as Airplane's, but you executed it so well! Oh, I wish Airplanes would have done the same. So heartbreaking! While PIDW created a monster out of SQQ, you created a human.

Fall: I'm also wondering if you plan to make him struggle with that choice later. Like, will he regret it in hindsight?

Shen Yuan considered this, tapping his fingers against his laptop. Fall always asked questions that made him rethink his plans. Actually, he didn't really think that he did such a great job at drawing parallels between the two Conferences, so he planned to switch POVs and continue it from Luo Binghe's, but…

It was actually a great question. The readers already knew about Luo Binghe's experiences in the Abyss more-or-less. Shen Yuan planned to show how staying at a more stable peak affected his physique, but it could be fascinating to explore what happens to Shen Qingqiu meanwhile.

Maybe he could do both…

Maybe-

Shizun: You raised a good question. I think I'll have him grapple with the consequences, it could be interesting to see how things turn out in the mortal world.

Fall: I think you should do it. It would fit your world-building theme… You could make the story feel more real. Like, the world, the characters and their choices have weight, y’know?

Shen Yuan knew exactly what Fall meant.

Shizun: Yeah, you are absolutely right. It was definitely something PIDW was missing - characters suffering real consequences. Even if they did something, be it either bad or good, it didn't really matter, because they either died in the end, or…

Fall: or had sex?

Shen Yuan snorted, typing back quickly.

Shizun: I wanted to say kinky, yet utterly boring papapa, but yes.

Fall: Oh, don't mention it! If I never read the words ‘thrust’ and ‘dangling’ again, it’d be too soon!

Shizun: I hate you.

Shizun: I want to bleach my eyes. I hate those words! And all the euphemisms Airplane use. ‘Flowers’, I get. Even ‘heavenly pillar’ makes sense! But comparing breasts to cow's udders?!?! Sometimes I wonder about Airplane's sex ed background…

There was a longer pause after that. Only his nervous ticks revealed his anxiety over that pause. Was he too offensive? It was not his Peerless_Cuvumber acc, so maybe he shouldn't have been so critical over the papapa scenes? But that was the best part in his friendship with Fall! He felt free to be open, to be himself!

Before he could work up himself, a reply came.

Fall: Maybe he doesn't really like writing sex? Or specifically, hetero sex? Maybe he is…

Shen Yuan stared at the words.

Airplane, his favorite and most hated author might be similar to him?

Maybe.

But…

Shizun: Don't care. I'm gay, and I could write better hetero sex scenes if I wanted to! Sexual orientation is not a good reason to be so bad at something!

Only after he sent the message did he realize that he fucked up. Sure, he might have flirted sometimes as they were talking with each other, but only within the boundaries of a no-homo friendship. But now that he came out in the heat of the moment…

He didn't want to lose a friend.

Fall: Okay, but you are different. You dare to write what you love.

Shen Yuan only realized that he had been withholding his breath, when he could feel himself breathe normally. It was not an explicit acceptance-

But it wasn't a rejection either.

He would take it.

Deciding, he would not bring attention to his accidental came-out, he wrote:

Shizun: If you ever decide to write something, you can also write whatever you wish to. It will be great, I'm sure of it!

There was a break in the conversation, again. He hoped he didn't push hard, since he knew Fall had been pretty hesitant to talk about his own writing in the past, but he hoped his encouragement helped.

Fall: Maybe one day. If I get brave enough to write something worth reading, you’ll be the first to know!

Shen Yuan smiled at his phone, feeling the familiar warmth settle in his chest. He wasn't sure why, but the idea of Fall sharing his work with him first, felt like something worth waiting for. The guy had a way with words, it was obvious from his comments. He was insightful and had an eye for details. Shen Yuan knew that if he ever wrote something he really liked, it would be an instant hit.

-*-*-*-

As the time passed, the day of Shen Yuan’s discharge loomed closer and closer. Which, don't misunderstand him, he desperately waited for!

However…

He had to admit. He didn't really want to leave the Hospital Guy. Sure, he still didn't know much about the guy - not even his name, for fuck's sake! -, but he had grown attached.

Hospital Guy was funny and smart and weird and hilarious. Shen Yuan enjoyed spending time with him, their quiet moments in the garden. He liked talking with/to him about everything and nothing. Hospital Guy was attentive when he ranted about the series he binge-watched between two chapters of PIDW, and they also had the same taste in music! He liked seeing the guy relax, and he loved it even more that he, Shen Yuan, was the reason for his more relaxed state!

He just liked Hospital Guy, okay?! He was just adorable, both inside and out!

So, on the day of his discharge, Shen Yuan mustered the courage to do the one thing he had yet to do: visit the guy's room.

Hospital Guy was clicking wildly on his phone, but the moment he noticed Shen Yuan, he stopped, and focused all his attention on him.

“Hi,” Shen Yuan said, surprisingly shy.

“Hello, Stranger,” Hospital Guy grinned.

“I'm leaving today,” he blurted out. The grin was instantly gone from Hospital Guy's face, turning into an unreadable mask.

It was concerning.

“Oh,” was all he said.

Shen Yuan waited, hoping for something more. A request to stay in touch, disappointment for not continuing their daily walks, or at least a goodbye that felt more meaningful. He waited for something, anything-

But the guy just nodded, his gaze drifting away from Shen Yuan, as if with that, he had already forgotten about the friend he made in the hospital.

Maybe they weren't really friends. Maybe everything was only in Shen Yuan's head.

Maybe he had bothered Hospital Guy all along.

Disappointment surged through Shen Yuan. He’d thought, maybe, there was something there; a connection, a friendship, maybe even more! But the guy didn’t seem to care.

It was as if Shen Yuan didn't even exist anymore.

“Alright,” Shen Yuan said, his voice tight. He would not cry. He would not scream. He would not fight. He would not bother Hospital Guy ever again. “Take care of yourself.”

And with that, he left.

[issacballsac]

“Being Apart of The Sk8 Crew„

Just rewatched Sk8 the infinity and now I wish I had friends so ! Gn reader

Joe | “I wanna marry your abs!”

Y’all would meet your first time at S

Obviously you’d be amazed by his skating and even if u don’t like men he’s hot as hell bro don’t lie

One of two things happens

You A. Run up to him and ask abt his skating techniques and such

Or B. He actually walks up to you to talk about your skating(only if ur good ofc💀)

He’s such a dad

If you’re younger than him he’s constantly trying to sound smart/give you wisdom

Sometimes it’s solid advice the other times it’s pure nonsense

If you like to cook/want to learn he’ll happily teach you

If not he’ll settle for a new taste tester

He would def make jokes all the time

Some genuinely funny

He expects you to laugh at all of them even if it wasn’t funny

He’d appreciate it if you didn’t cock block him like everyone else

Despite being quick to take off his shirt he’s very fashionable and takes pride in his looks obviously

If you ever needed fashion advice best go to him!

He’s a pretty laid back guy so you wouldn’t get into arguments often

Would love to skate everywhere but he’s like…got a job and responsibilities so..

Still a great dad friend to have

Honestly would care and worry over you if you got into some dumb shit so don’t do anything stupid and he won’t worry

Joe for the win🗣️‼️

Cherry/Kaoru | A.I. Advancement

You’d meet when he paid a visit to Joe’s restaurant

Ofc you knew of him bc he’s popular but you never MET Kaoru

You def walked in on their date arguing

It was so awkward u were jus like:🧍‍♂️

“Is this a bad time time to visit you?”

“Hey! Kaoru this is [ ], the kid I was talking about.”

“What a peculiar child to willingly hang around you.”

“Whatever you say, Pinky.”

He’s kinda weird with his whole AI stuff but other than that a great friend

Makes snarky comments with you

Unless ur too nice to make snide remarks

Constantly complains abt the angle of your turns

Unironically would show up at your parent teacher conferences(if you’re still in the lower schooling ofc)

Would never admit it but he loves each of his friends and would be genuinely concerned if anything happened

Shadow | Petty Clown

Oh when y’all met you wanted to throw hands

I imagine something similar to his introduction with Reki

Bro straight up threw an explosive in your face???(smoke bomb maybe but still)

He may be petty but you’re pettier(is that even a word?💀)

You found out he worked at a flower shop bc lets be FR he doesn’t look much different outside of S

Lil arguments here lil threats there and you leave with a nice assortment of flowers

Bro side eyes you EVERYTIME y’all cross paths at S😭

After the whole gang is assembled y’all no longer act this way towards one another

Bros the only responsible adult of this group

He def did your makeup once and you broke out the next day💀

“Are you sure you know what you’re doin’?”

“Trust me, kid.”

“I don’t know why but I don’t.”

You try and help him with his relationship endeavors but it never works out😭

He’ll go to the gym with you if you don’t wanna go alone

Gym bros‼️🗣️

Miya | Catty Child

This fucker

Y’all are quite the duo

Annoying ass mfs whenever and wherever you go

If you have any sort of pet it’s his pet now

Bros the animal whisperer

He’d have to be interested in your skating for y’all to become friends

So pretend ur decent or even amazing; however big ur delusion allows itself to be🫡

He’s smart but would invite you somewhere under the premise of studying just to goof around

If he needs a second player for his game bro is gonna drag your ass so y’all can play

Goes shopping with you just to complain about how everything is ugly in the stores

“That’s not cute, who thought selling this was a good idea?”

“Bitch—if you’re going to be negative the whole time go home‼️”

Reki | Redheaded Menace

If you thought you + Miya was a devious duo just imagine you and Reki

Y’all would prob meet second after you and Joe met

Bc he works at a skate shop

And you need skating stuff(you can tell I’m not a skater💀)

If you’re just a good skater and don’t know actual science and shit behind it he’s constantly telling you about it like you care

You guys cruise around together for fun

He made your current board and you’ll never get another one that’s not from him

You teach him any and all tricks/skills you know

Probably took you to his house to give you your current board bc he was working on it in his house and you met all of his family

His mom is just happy he’s got some friends

You become besties with his mom

She gossips abt news and celebrities with you

Claims ur like her other child(forget the rest of them👺)

Makes you lunch bc she’s nice like that

You let him ramble abt stuff he’s interested in even if you aren’t listening fully

Would silently beg you to stay back with him during the hot spring scavenge bc he’s scared

Forces you to watch horror movies with him bc he gets scared and needs someone else with him

Bro would be elated the whole day if you called him cool

Snow/Langa | Canadian Curiosity

Omg he’s Canadian?😦 Seize him!

Obviously being involved with S you would’ve heard of Snow but Reki would’ve introduced y’all before the big news

Bro would shove him in your face as if he’s a shiny trophy(at the beginning ofc)

“This is Langa! New guy from my class apparently he’s interested in skating.”

“Sick—he’s so pale.”

“He’s from Canada.”

“Oh.”

Bro is so oblivious it’s crazy

You gotta like SPELL IT OUT for him if you’re ever alluding to smth

Langa stays hungry and would go out to eat with you anytime

You and Reki would def help him decorate his room bc it’s…bland

It’s not bad but there’s no personality

He tells you abt his favourite dishes back in Canada and y’all try and locate any places in Japan that might sell smth similar

If not you guys attempt to make it yourselves at his house

His mom walks in on y’all ruining the kitchen💀

“Langa I’m…home.”

“Hey, Mom.”

“Hey Langa’s Mom!”

Bro is a skating addict and will skate whenever and wherever

Wants to race you like at least twice every week

Loser pays for dinner

You help him with his reading and writing and if you didn’t already know he’d teach you English

[tothosewholisten]

Forever Healed | TUA insert

Chapter: 11

<<previous chapter | next chapter>>

Masterlist

…

Diego was heated, he had a vengeful look in his eyes that showed that. I was asleep for most of the ride back to his house because of how early it was in the morning but when I was up I could hear him muttering things to himself. He wanted Hazel and Cha-Cha dead and I don’t blame him.

They took away his lover, I don’t know anything about their relationship but I could tell she meant everything to him. When you lose a lover you’ll do anything to bring them back and avenge them, even if they're not sensible. There was no one to stop me from the things I did when I lost Ben, but Diego doesn't have to go through the same thing.

I'll be here for him if he needs me and if he doesn't want to kill me too.

When he noticed I was awake his grip on the steering wheel was a clear indication that he was about to burst. I readied myself for anything thrown my way while activating my powers.

But he didn't do anything to harm me, instead, he took a deep breath. “What do you know about Five’s behavior since he’s been back?” Diego asked me.

“What?” I whispered confusedly.

He scoffs. "What has he been doing? You should know, since every time you leave the academy it's with him.”

Was that true? I can’t keep track of what I do anymore. There are too many side plots in my life taking away my thoughts from the actual big thing, the apocalypse.

Instead of making eye contact with him, I look out the window as I speak. “Look, Five’s not exactly an open book. The first time I found him outside of the academy, I was trying to go into Griddy’s. And what do I find? The boy surrounded by a bunch of dead soldiers?”

Diego hung onto every word I said, trying to piece together if I was as crazy as Five was or actually telling the truth. “Then he tells me to cut this tracker thing out of his arm. He blinks us into Vanya’s house to tell us the world is ending in a couple of days. I mean can you believe that?” I rambled.

He stops the car in the middle of the busy road, and the tires let out a horrible screech. “What did you say?” He whispers, turning to me slowly. Not caring about the blasting horns from cars around us.

“The world is ending in four days?”

..

Once we reached the dojo, Diego bolted out of the car not stopping for anything, not even questions from poor Al who was just wondering if he helped Eudora or not.

“Diego, don’t do something you’re going to regret. Five isn’t the enemy here.” I cut in front of his long stride.

“Well, he sure as hell isn’t innocent either.” He pushes past me and slams open his front door.

Luther and Five were in there just where we left them last night. And Five seemed to be finally sober and he sat upright on Diego’s bed, in a conversation with the man sitting in front of him.

“Piece of shit.” Diego roared out as he tried to tackle Five. “Do you have any idea what you just did?”

I grabbed onto the back of his shirt to pull him back but he slipped out of my grasp. But instead of landing on Five, Diego was met by the solid body of Luther, who stopped him. “Nope, let me— Get your ape hands off of me!” He screams.

Luther remains calm with Diego wiggling around in the air. “I can do this as long as it takes you to calm down.”

“Fine.” Diego pants and then gets dropped onto the ground. Luther stares at me from behind all of this. He gives me a what's going on type glance but all I can do is look at Five.

“Now, you wanna tell us what you’re talkin' about?” Luther asked.

“These two have been pretty busy since Five got back.” Diego starts. “They were in the middle of the shootout at Griddy’s, and then Five was at Gimble Brothers after the guys in masks attacked the Academy; looking for him.” He pieced together information that I told him during the car ride to put me and Five at the center of blame.

“Seriously Diego?” I ask.

“None of which is any of your concern.” Five spoke up for the first time since we walked in.

“It is now, they just killed my friend.”

Luther looks at me “You’re involved with this Y/n?”

Before I get a chance to defend myself I'm cut off by Five. “No, she’s not, I just needed her for her abilities.” Who answers too quickly for that to be true.

“Yes, her perfect abilities. Y/n, you wanna tell Luther what you told me.”

“I barely know the details, Diego, this isn’t my story to tell, ask the time traveler who was there!”

We were all rapid-fire arguing with one another. And no one could hear the exact words we were saying because of how much we spoke over each other. But overall was Diego not believing me, me trying to say how lost I was and Five explaining this was still none of his business. Luther just stared blankly.

“Hey, hey, hey hey,” Luther yells.

“What!” The three of us yell back.

“Shut the hell up. Five I want answers, who are these masked people and what does Y/n mean about the end of the world? I want these answers now, the two of you wait your turn.” Probably the first time Luther has gotten anyone to be quiet, he sounds like a leader.

Five looks down “They work for my former employer. A woman called The Handler. She sent them.. to stop me. Then, as soon as Diego’s friend got in their way, well, fair game.”

“That’s cruel Five.” I cut in.

Diego takes a step closer to him and gets up in his face. “And now they’re my fair game. And I'm gonna see to it they pay.” He grits his teeth.

“That would be a mistake, Diego. They’ve killed people far more dangerous than you.”

“Oh yeah well we’ll see about that.”

Diego was ready to take action and leave but Luther held him in place for the answer to his final question. “So when is it supposed to happen? This apocalypse.”

“Well I can’t give you the exact hour, but.. from what I could gather. We have four days left.”

Luther gawks at him. “Why didn't you mention it to all of us sooner?”

“It wouldn't have mattered.” He sighs.

“Of course, it would! We could’ve banded together and helped you try and stop this thing.”

“For the record, you already tried.”

“What do you mean?” Diego asks grumpily.

Five is quiet, he tries to find the best way to say this so that his brothers don’t go crazy. “I found you guys. Your bodies.”

“We all die?” I questioned. That couldn’t have been right, in his journal someone was alive. But I couldn’t make out the name since Diego pulled all of us away to find Five.

“Horribly.” Five says, “all except for one.” He gazes at me.

My body shutters. “The one you wrote about in your book. The one who was still alive in all of the rummage, that was me?”

Why didn't my future self come back with Five to this timeline. What happened?

He answered my suspicions like he was reading my mind. “You were dying slowly Y/n, whoever ended the world did more damage to you than the regular human. We were together for a while and you aged the same as me, slowly. But when The Handler came to me, you didn’t want anything to do with it. Said you had gone through enough pain.”

“I don’t know what happened to you after.” Five said with an undertone of sadness, the best he could probably give without sobbing.

I think I have an idea what happened, I told myself I would never do it. But life has been hard ever since I was young, especially after losing Ben. In the future, I think I killed myself and forced my body to not heal.

This is what Reginald feared I'd do, but even if he made my blood into a healing solution he wouldn't be there to use it on me. It’s a scary thought, but I won't bring it up to them.

Five went on to explain that we worked as a team since all of our bodies were lying in rubble. And the MeriTech eye was worn by the person we were fighting since it was in Luther’s clasped hand. And then he told us about where he worked, the commission.

He went to all kinds of different time periods and killed people who messed with the timeline, and in exchange, he would eventually get to go home. But while being sent out on a mission to kill John F. Kennedy decided that he was going to disobey. And tried to get back to us on his own, so he could save us and save the world.

That's what we saw during Reginald’s funeral. But he messed up the equations and got stuck as a kid. Luther looked on in horror at Five's actions but this only seemed to fuel Diego's rage against Hazel and Cha-Cha.

Me though, I just wanted to go hug Benny.

“So where do we go from now?” I quietly ask the group.

“I'm tracking down those lunatics,” Diego mutters while leaving the room. Luther gasps. “I gotta find Allison and tell her.” Leaving me and Five, in Diego’s room.

“I just have one more question,” I say. “Did I tell you who ends the world?”

“No, all you said was, it wasn't her fault.” he says disappointed. I rack my brain trying to understand what that meant. I know this person personally.

“I know this doesn't make sense, I wish I knew more too. The best thing we can do is keep trying to solve this.” He says.

“I can’t go back to the academy right now, Five. Diego needs someone, even if he doesn't want it to be me. I need to do something.”

He sighs. “You always feel the need to help us Y/n, and what about yourself? Diego will chase you away and make you feel small then what, you're gonna force yourself to help him anyways?”

“I know I can’t fix everything, I can't heal emotions. But I can give someone an avenue to take their feelings out. Even if that's at my own expense. I don’t care.”

Five eyes widen when he looks at me. “Y/n..”

“It’ll be fine, trust me. And if it doesn't work, I'll come back to the academy and find you okay?” I say as I try to lighten the mood.

He only nods but lets me go anyway. I give him a meaningless smile as I leave the room, knowing I shared too much information and gave away a part of myself I hoped others would never comment on.

..

I let her leave to help him, even though it's going to amount to nothing. I just couldn’t help it, her kind but harmful manner got to me, and she’s too nice for her own good. Just like she was in the apocalypse..

But they had their differences too, even though their brains only differed a couple of days from each other. That Y/n lost her spark and this one is slowly draining herself of it. Delores tells me not to think too much about her, but how can I not? I left her there to die. And it's haunted me ever since.

I remember that day when I found her in the rummage. I was young and scared since I couldn’t blink back home. It took me a while to recognize whose body lay with my siblings, but it was the newest addition to the fucked up regiment Reginald made.

She was faintly moving before she started to cough up blood and debris. She was also very malnourished and scared, so once she was able to get up we started to talk. Not about the apocalypse because every time I asked she dodged the topic.

We stayed together in the wasteland of crushed buildings and fire, eating scraps that made her throw up. Her body wasn’t retaining any food, sleep, or healing abilities but she always told me she was okay.

I caught her a few times talking to herself, about my siblings and how sorry she was that she couldn’t save them from her. It was just us, and Delores for so many years.

I aged into an old man at the same time she did. But during that, she stayed small and weak. Like she was on the brink of dying, a fact I didn't want to think about. I couldn’t survive without her, I'd go crazy.

Then The Handler arrived and offered us both a chance to get out of there. I looked at her for an answer but she looked lost. I was glad to get out of this hellhole but weary for the future with this not trustworthy company. But I had her, the two of us could get through it.

Instead of sharing my excitement, she tells me to go without her. Saying that she’s likely to die anyway and that she’s tired of chasing a perfect world that doesn't exist. I explained to her I'd go through that with her but she’s dead set on going.

“My life is over Five.” She wheezes. “And I'm okay with that, I got to live it with you and everyone else. But you, you can keep going. Avenge this world and maybe someday we can be happy again.”

I try to speak but she cuts me off. “Maybe if I'm lucky enough, I'll finally get to see Ben!”

That broke me the most and with a lot of convincing from her, I was finally ready to take The Handlers offer. After goodbyes, she hugs me. “When did you get so tall?”

It was our final laugh together.

Before I left she whispered something to me away from prying eyes. “Promise me something Five.”

“Anything you want.”

“Promise me, you’ll break out of this bullshit and go back to the past.”

“What?”

“Listen. Go back to the past, how I don’t know but you're smart enough to figure it out. And stop all of this from happening, I know that's a huge thing to ask. But at least give it a try. Get back to us, get back to me, okay?”

“Of course, I'll try.” I sniffled.

“Don’t cry, do your best, live your life and try not to think about me too much.” Even then she still found a way to laugh.

“Now go before I cry too!”

She never wanted me to see her sad, or hurting even though I knew every move she made broke another part of herself. Y/n gave me one more hug before I stepped through The Handler’s briefcase portal.

I spent years trying to forget about a woman I should’ve never met. A woman I wouldn’t meet again until fulfilling her wish of going back to the past. But that version of her barely knew me, and all the things we did together. But that didn’t stop me from including her in all I did, to track down the person who ended the world. Even if she would never know about the love I had for that woman.

I was going to save my siblings and her from the apocalypse. Because I promised her I would.

…

I tried smth different this chapter tell me what u think!

Taglist: @aloflapse @isomehowexist @elenalovestoread @miscrying @gabriella-aesthetic @solarbeanz @theoriginalone1111 @water-hemlock18 @tialovesyoutoo @dakotapaigelove