#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 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

starry-bi-sky · 1 year ago

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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.

#….AND THATS ALL I HAVE FOR THIS AU #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc #dpxdc #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dpxdc crossover #dp crossover #dpdc #dp dc crossover #childhood friends au #whats the jasonxdanny ship name again??#Undead ship?#no no wait its dead on main #dead on main #cw cigarettes #cw smoking #smoking tw #oh fuck this got long (story of my life) but onfg i didnt wanna make #more than one part #anyways Danny and Jason are buddies uwu #thank god that tumblr has a seemingly endless word count #one sided timxdanny #tim’s crush on danny is basically the same thing #as a little sibling developing a crush on their older brother’s friend #he’ll get over it in a few months #its a small infatuation not to worry #danny is completely oblivious to it #thanks dc writers for making Tim imortally sixteen #it makes everyone else’s ages a little easier to remember #you can see me running out of steam at the last stretch of this monster thing

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ppushable · 16 hours ago

Text

Fanfic writer interview

tysm for the tag eb! sorry i took so long getting to it. i swear it was screaming at me from the drafts the whole time

How many work do you have on AO3?

4! (but one of them doesn’t really count because it’s a test)

What's your total AO3 word count?

84,177

What are your top 5 stories by kudos/likes?

two ibuprofen - 92 notes

low tide - 44 notes

just us - 26 notes

ofcwbo - i’m not sure but she’s definitely at the bottom

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

yes i do! i love that people take the time and effort to do this and i want to show my gratitude always. they didnt have to comment but they did. fics are so personal as well imo, seeing what other people have to say about it is. i’m not sure how to describe it but it makes me want to yell into a pillow.

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

ofcwbo will have the edgiest ending, but since i haven’t actually finished any of my (posted) fics other than just us, it has to take the title by default. (it does have a very angsty ending though. and an angsty beginning and middle)

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

using the above logic, just us by default….? (it would be anything in the rose tinted hours collection (that being two ibu or low tide (for now (👁️)) because that’s my happiness and i shall keep angst away from it with a 10 km pole)

Do you write crossovers?

nope

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

nope! if that happens i’ll wither and die

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that i know of!

Have you ever had a fic translated?

nope!

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

oh dear god. my origin story

back in my reddit phase (i was like 13? leave me alone) i made art for a fandom which mustn’t be named and met another person there. we became friends (stranger danger, i know, i’m smarter now) and somehow we started writing fic. it went pretty well, they would make most of the plot and the chapter outline and i would go in and edit it to make it make sense. we had a good run, all things considered. we then moved on to another fandom (read: they dragged me into another fandom) and we wrote for that one as well, except this time i got the opportunity to write my own chapters with my own ocs. that’s when i started realizing how nice and cool this was.

if youre seeing this, J, hi.

What's your all-time favorite ship?

jean and i. alternatively, me and jean (YEAH FOR SELFSHIP DELULU I LOVE BEING INSANE)

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

i don’t have such weaknesses. i WILL finish all my wips.

(ofcwbo. it’s going to drag on forever. deep inside a part of me wants to be realistic and say that it’s a little unrealistic for me to actually get down everything i wanted in a way that satisfies me. maybe i dont even WANT to finish it, because the fic has been such a comfort in the back of my mind for so long that the idea of it suddenly. terminating. is terrifying. maybe i’m overthinking it. i just dont want that world in my head to die, whether that be by fading away quietly or suddenly coming to an end.)

What are your writing strengths?

toughie. i think my descriptions are solid, as well as getting into the mc’s head (but that can just be attributed to the first person pov thing aha).

What are your writing weaknesses?

planning whatever i’m trying to write - i dont control it, it infects my brain and hands and forges its own way. i’m also not a huge fan of proofreading (this mostly applies to the earlier chapters of ofcwbo (i get embarrassed)). i also have a tendency to repeat a certain phrase or metaphor in a fic without realizing it. sequences of actions are hard to write too.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

i try not to do it too much because it can be confusing and having to translate/provide a translation can break the flow. but i do like adding in little phrases sometimes based on my hcs for what languages the characters speak

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?

i’m not sure i have one. i’m deep in the bowels of jean/reader purgatory and i don’t see a way out

What's your favorite fic you've written?

just us. <3

@firefly--bright no pressure (yes pressure)

Fanfic writer interview

Thank you @thelettersfromnoone for the tag!! 💖

How many work do u have on AO3?

3, not your local AO3 girlie lmao

What's your total AO3 word count?

8 534

Your top 5 stories by kudos/likes

I'll go with Tumblr ones, cause from my 3 AO3 works the biggest number I got is 31 lmao

Anyone but you (Legolas x f!reader)

Night watch (Legolas x Reader)

Well-deserved rest (Haldir x f!Reader)

One messy night (Boromir x f!Reader)

Transition (Haldir x f!Reader)

Honorable mention (since it's not fics but headcanons)

Green Council receiving a hot pic from you (HotD)

TLK men's reaction on being pet named

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I always try to respond to comments! These little things are brightening up my day, so I wanna let the people know that they are my heroes hahaha

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

I really think it's Transition. All in all it's a pretty dark story, a bit depressing I think (I had these intentions while writing at least).

Otherwise, I don't think I have angsty endings fics?

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

New family members for sure!! Was thinking hard what to choose, cause I think all of my happy ending fics are on the pretty same level on a happy scale, but I remember that I have this gen, non romantic baby and I love it so much ❤️‍🩹 There's a little TLK OMC for y'all

Do you write crossovers?

I wanted to say I've never done this BUT THEN!!! My Assassin's Creed (Ezio) x LOTR little headcanon!!! My beloved child!!

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

No, not that I remember getting any hate on my fics

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I do, tho not much and on rare occasions. I used to write a lot of smut when I was younger (a teen), then I stopped being comfortable with it for a wild few years (tho reading never made me uncomfortable lmao).

Now I started writing smut again, idk what kind? Don't really understand what does that mean lol F x M traditional sex? Pretty detailed? If so, then yes lmao

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don't know 😂 Maybe, maybe not. I think rather not.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not to my knowledge, I don't think so.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

We tried with my friend a long long time ago. Didn't go well lmao It's hard and kinda stressing, cause you never know what the other person is gonna write (at least we had this SURPRISE system), so... You kinda have zero plot cause everything you want to write plot-wise can be ruined by the second person's plot lmao

What's your all-time favorite ship?

Athelnar?? Athelstan and Ragnar were my first ever OTP (quickly followed by Alfred and Uhtred). You could never beat that Athelnar shit out of my body lmao I've never written for them, but oh I do love them boys!

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

Now, that's the HARSH one lmao

I think I have at least 3 OC stories that I really wanna write (2 for TLK and one for LOTR), but I'm scared that I will never actually do it. I never was good with multi chaptered stories, and these are indeed not a one shots 🥲

What are your writing strengths?

Ugh... I don't know? I think I was pretty good with dialogues and descriptions of the surroundings to build the atmosphere. But... I guess it's not for me to decide but for the readers?

What are your writing weaknesses?

I rarely finish what I've started lmao I should write everything in one go or else I'll never finish it... Or will finish it in two months even if it's a 2k words one shot

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I love them! I've only done it with my LOTR fics (with Sindarin) but I really love it. But I really love it when the language is different from the language of the settings? Like, if the story is happening in England and everyone is English, but you have two characters who can speak idk Dutch, let them have a Dutch language in their dialogue. I had a rant post about it not that long ago actually lmao You have to think about your in-universe language

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?

Ahhh Bungou Stray Dogs! I love them, and I'd gladly try to write something for them. Not a character/character but reader my beloved.

And maybe Stephane Narcisse (reign) my beloved and a reader

What's your favorite fic you've written?

The blood on my hands (Eomer) and Peace (Finan) are definitely my fave ones I think. They are dark and both explore some trauma

No pressure tags: @whitedarkmoonflower @lord-aldhelm @holy3cake @gemini-mama @emilyhufflepufftlk @persephones-journey @solinarimoon @mrsalwayswrite @emmanuellececchi @bilbotargaryen @levithestripper @mrsarnasdelicious @paula-in-dreamland

#ty for the tag! this was really fun #long post #tag game #misc #pushs ramblings

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naughtyneganjdm · 1 year ago

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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.”

#Negan #Jeffrey Dean Morgan #Negan fanfiction #negan x reader #The Walking Dead #twd fanfiction #negan x you #negan smut #Negan Smith

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shekeepswriting · 1 year ago

Text

A Little More Heart

[Syverson x Reader]

Word Count: 3977

Summary: On a night out with an old friend, Sy meets a woman who catches his interest.

Warnings: Just cursing and a little bit of alcohol

A/N: This could become a series? I’ve got little bits and pieces and some fun ideas. Let me know if you’d be interested in that. I’m new to this part of tumblr and very nervous...

Sullivan’s was pretty barren that night, not that anyone could expect much for this late on a Thursday night. A few regulars warming their usual barstools, making conversation and laying out their woes to a characteristically haggard Billy Sullivan as he filled the pretzel and peanut bowls. A duo of middle aged women talking gratuitous shit at a table near the middle of the room with frequent smoke breaks. A group of four guys, barely on the right side of 21, trying to boost their cool kid points by getting good at pool. One woman sitting at the end of the bar with a notebook, leaning heavily on her forearms in a way that read more fatigue than alcohol consumption. Looked like she was drinking lemonade.

Everyone who had been there when Syverson and Danny walked in two hours earlier was still holding steady.

They’d made their way through the stages of conversation people usually had drinking with old friends. The short term catch up, funny argument over something stupid, brief foray into more emotional territory, shared memories, hypotheticals. Their night, at least, was starting to wind down.

When Sy came back from the bathroom, Danny was staring at the woman at the bar, finger tapping idly on his glass. Having known him since he was fifteen years old, Sy knew that face very well.

“Not gonna go your way,” Sy said mildly, with a hint of a smirk.

“No? How d’you figure?”

“She’s sitting at the very end of the bar with a notebook and pen. She didn’t come here to make friends or get hit on.”

“She could’ve stayed home to write,” Danny argued, but his face was thoughtful as he watched you.

“We could’ve stayed home to drink.”

Danny rolled his eyes.

“Alright, take it easy. I’m not gonna harass the woman. Just gonna introduce myself. If she’s not interested, I’ll go. Not trying to be an ass.”

“Nah, you don’t gotta try. You’re a natural.”

Danny squinted, snatching at Sy’s glass and downing the rest of his drink in retaliation.

“You go then. Looks like you’re running empty anyway.”

“I don’t do that shit anymore.”

“Oh, I know it. Old man Syverson ain’t known the touch of a woman in fifty years,” Danny said, exaggerating his accent and wiping away an imaginary tear.

“That’s enough of that now.”

“Come on, man. Look at her. Frowning and drinking alone. She’s your soulmate.”

Sy shot him a frown, thoroughly unimpressed.

“Not drinking alone though, am I?”

“You talk to her or I will.”

Sy gave an unconvinced grumble, but the look on Danny’s face made it clear it was no idle bluff. Now, there was nothing wrong with Danny. He wasn’t aggressive or pushy; he knew how to take no for an answer. But he’d give it a solid effort, and he was the most extroverted person Sy had ever met.

If you were uninterested in company, the way that he was almost certain you were, it would be easier to avoid the whole process entirely. And if Sy took up the bar stool two spaces to your right, Danny wouldn’t have a clear view to know whether or not the two of you actually spoke a word to each other.

He stood up from the table with a deep sigh, making sure his annoyance over the disruption of his night was fully documented.

“Happy hunting, Captain,” Danny said with a stupid grin and a sloppy salute that had Sy rolling his eyes as he turned towards the bar.

As you noticed his approach, your shoulders tensed up, lips slightly pursed but eyes still trained on your journal. Sy gave you space, careful to only observe you through his peripheral vision as he claimed a stool a fair distance from you, leaving a buffer seat between you.

Billy approached as he sat, brought him a beer with minimal conversation.

You fidgeted, clicking your pen three times in rapid succession.

There wasn’t much more Sy could do to set you at ease without blowing the whole operation, but he set his phone on the bartop, scrolling absently through contacts and pictures to give himself something to do, something to help you feel less observed.

Your leg started bouncing and you glanced at him, quick as humanly possible.

There was a silent standoff for a few minutes, one Sy was trying very hard to will out of existence. But you were still tense on your barstool, expectant.

You broke first.

“No pitch, huh?”

You were looking right at him this time, fully turned to face him, eyes intense but not unfriendly.

“Pitch?”

“You left that cozy corner table to come drink by yourself on an uncomfortable bar stool. Usually the kind of move that’s followed by an introduction, maybe some pickup lines. A pitch of some kind.”

Sy turned his head just enough to see the table he’d been sitting at out of the corner of his eye. Danny turned his head away too fast, feigning interest in the record cover art hanging on the bar walls. Idiot.

“Saw me over there, huh?”

“I’m a woman drinking alone in a dive bar, and you are literally the largest threat in the room. Of course I saw you.”

Sy frowned.

“Not a threat to nobody.”

You raised your eyebrow, reaching out with a speed that had Sy struggling not to tense up as you looped your pen under the chain barely peeking out of the neckline of his shirt.

“You don’t strike me as the necklace type. Military, right?”

“Retired.”

You hummed, letting the chain drop back against his skin as you retreated from his personal space. He reached up, patting the shape of his tags as they resettled against his chest beneath his shirt. It felt strange, wearing them again. He wasn’t used to it anymore. Normally they lived in the back of the top drawer in his desk, out of sight and as far out of mind as he could manage to keep them. But anniversaries were psychologically significant. He’d learned that in therapy. So he’d decided to honor this one, the anniversary of his initial enlistment, by putting them on again. Going out with a friend from before… everything. It was why he was here.

“Military,” you repeated quietly, your eyes back on your notebook again, still tilted out of Syverson’s view as you flipped the page, stared at the blank expanse for a moment before giving your pen two thoughtful clicks. “Always a threat.”

Sy’s stomach lurched uncomfortably.

“Not to you. Not to anyone in this bar,” he said firmly, tilting his head to add as an afterthought, “Long as they mind their fuckin manners.”

Your mouth curved up at the corner, just the hint of a smile, the first he’d seen from you all night. Not that he’d been watching. Much. It disappeared after only a few seconds, replaced by a focused frown that traced a crease between your brows as you put pen to paper.

His eyes flicked down towards the bartop, but the cover of the notebook still shielded the page from his view. He was tempted to drop it, leave you to your work, whatever that might be. But your body language gave him pause. You had shuffled around on your stool during your brief conversation and remained that way even now, shoulders and hips pivoted slightly in his direction rather than running parallel to the bar in a position more comfortable for writing. He fiddled with the label on the bottle of beer the bartender had brought him, the corner peeling back easy under his thumb before he smoothed it back into place.

“What’re you doing?”

You glanced up at him, flashing that little smile again, though this time it looked a little sharper, caught somewhere between self-conscious and amused.

“Chasing the muse, I guess.”

Sy raised an eyebrow, gave a neutral hum.

“Not sure I know what that means.”

“Sure you do,” you said quietly, eyes tracing thoughtfully over his face before you turned your attention back to your notebook. “It’s a pretty universal concept, I think.”

“Maybe.” He took a sip of his beer. “Just figured most people don’t come this far south looking for it. More of a New York and LA kind of thing.”

“Just because those are the places most people look for inspiration, doesn’t mean those are the only places you can find it.”

You were some kind of artist then. Interesting.

“Can I ask what you’re looking to inspire? Or is that too personal?”

That earned him another look, something quiet and appreciative. Two quick pen clicks.

“You can ask. I kinda want to hear you guess though.”

He looked again at your notebook. It wasn’t the tiny kind, but it wasn’t full sized either. Leatherbound or something like it, not spiral. He couldn’t see the paper to know whether it was lined or not. Could be for writing small amounts. Drawing maybe. You could even be writing song lyrics in there. He hadn’t been around enough artsy people in his life to know a damn thing about it.

But he was observant, good at cataloging behavior, pretty decent at reading people. When he had first approached, your hand had been gliding in straight lines across the page, but now it was moving more erratically. There was something different in your glances too. Slow, almost too intense to be polite, analyzing. Maybe you were drawing him on that page you kept so carefully hidden from his gaze. Or maybe you were still deciding whether or not he was a threat to you. Sy wasn’t totally comfortable with either option, but he’d prefer to think that the current turn of the conversation was proof of you softening just a little towards him.

He hedged his bets a little, just in case.

“Don’t see any paint on ya. That’s about the best I can do,” he said mildly.

“That was an awful lot of thinking for ‘don’t see any paint on ya,’’' you said, tilting your head. A bit too gentle to be an accusation, but you still wanted a better answer.

“Alright…” Sy shifted on his bar stool, angling towards you. “Looked like you were writing before I got here. But now you’re either scribbling or drawing. Maybe even drawing me by the way you keep looking at me. Unless you’ve got another reason to be staring like that.”

Right answer. You were smiling again, a little freer than last time.

“I’m not staring.”

He shrugged. “Studying, then.”

“I’ll take studying,” you said with a slow nod. “Is it making you uncomfortable?”

“I’ll live.”

“Of course you will, but that’s not an answer.”

“Sure isn’t,” he said, taking another drink.

His own lips curved up into a smile, almost against his will, when you laughed. Bright and open. You were fully facing him now with the kind of smile that was impossible to ignore, genuine and joyful and inescapably contagious.

“Let’s try this then…” you said, trailing off into soft humming sounds as you added a few last hurried lines to your notebook before setting your pen down.

You ripped the page out as cleanly as you could manage and set it on the scarred bar top, giving it a little push towards him.

And it was his face looking up at him from the paper, rendered in wild pen strokes of blue ink, but no less detailed for the messy style. The close cut of his hair, sharp furrow of his brows above focused eyes, the beard that had needed trimming for two days at least. Neither unflattering nor romanticized, just honest. The way you saw him. A little intense, a little rough around the edges, but not harsh. There was kindness there somewhere in the lines of his face, but he couldn’t pin down exactly where.

Sy hummed, gestured toward your pen.

“Borrow that for a minute?”

You slid it down the bar to him with a raised brow.

He nodded in thanks as he took it, snagging an unused napkin as well. With an excessive slowness, he sketched out his very best stick figure, looking up at you with an evaluative stare when he heard a muffled laugh. You dropped your hand from your mouth, meeting his gaze with a playful smile, tolerating the long look with amusement dancing in your eyes.

He dutifully added two dot eyes, pausing for a moment before drawing eyelashes and eyebrows, trying not to tear through the napkin. A very geometric nose followed, and a wide open smile. After another long look he added your hair, actually bothering to get the shape right since it seemed much more attainable even with his limited art skills.

You were still smiling as you watched him sign the corner.

“Those your initials or is that your name?” you asked, tilting your head to read the tiny letters.

“My name,” he answered, sliding the napkin and pen back to the bar space between your two stools.

“Sy,” you said slowly, as if testing the sound of it. He smiled too, just a little, not remembering when he’d last liked the sound of his own name so much.

“You didn’t sign yours,” he reminded you, and you squinted your eyes at him, knowing full well what he was after.

Still, you took up the pen and signed the loose sheet of notebook paper. Probably exactly as you signed everything else: mostly illegibly. He could decipher the initials, but not much else.

You let out a snort at the unimpressed look he leveled at you.

“Now you’re just causin’ problems on purpose.”

“It’s not my fault that you write like a caps lock keyboard and I don’t.”

He sighed.

“And here I drew you a real pretty picture,” Sy said slowly, tapping the napkin.

“You did,” you said with a smile. “But I’m still holding out for the pitch.”

“I still don’t have one.”

“Come on, now,” you said, a challenging spark in your eyes. “I’ve never met a man who didn’t have a pitch. A line. A move. You’ve got something.”

“Haven’t done none of that since I was a teenager,” he said. “I’ve got no use for that shit.”

“Sure you do. Because I’m asking. And don’t tell me you haven’t flirted since you were a teenager. I don’t believe that for a second.”

Sy shifted in his seat.

“Didn’t say I never flirted. Just said I don’t use lines.”

You rolled your eyes playfully at the distinction, resting your chin on your hand.

“Come on now. You want to know my name, that’s the price. And I expect your best work, Sy.”

He let out a deep sigh, rubbing at his forehead. This was about to be real fuckin embarrassing.

“Alright. Not promising anything good, here. I only ever had two.”

“Efficient,” you said with an approving nod.

“They’re not good,” he repeated.

“But they worked?”

“Mostly. God only knows why.”

“Stop stalling,” you said in a stage whisper.

“First one…”

“I’m ready.”

He cleared his throat, looked straight into your eyes.

“Wanna make out later?”

Your mouth dropped open in surprise before stretching into a wide smile.

“Oh my god,” you laughed. “I wasn’t ready.”

Sy shrugged, took a sip of his beer while you stared at him in awe.

“That worked for you?”

“Yep,” he said with a small smile. “What, you don’t appreciate honesty?”

“I… do,” you answered slowly. “Okay, I guess I see it. What’s the second one?”

“Excuse me, ma’am, I don’t mean to bother you, but I can’t seem to find my phone number. Could I borrow yours?”

“You turned your accent up for that one,” you said with a delighted laugh. “Full force southern charm. My God, what a little heartbreaker you must have been!”

“Now you’re just bein’ mean,” he said, turning back away from you.

“No, I’m completely serious. I fully believe those worked for you, and now I kinda want to see pictures.”

“Now, you’ve gotten more than enough outta me for one night.”

“Fine, fine,” you sighed.

You picked your pen back up, wrote your first name in small block letters under your artsy scribble, your best approximation of his own handwriting.

“Bullyin me,” he muttered even as he committed your name to memory.

“Imitation is the highest form of flattery,” you said breezily, laughing at the look he shot you in response.

“So, what, you’re some kind of artist then?” he asked, changing the subject. “Draw and paint and all that?”

You shook your head.

“Not really, no. That’s just for fun. I like drawing people.”

He looked at the paper again.

“Well you’re damn good at it. If that’s not the muse you’re chasin, what is?”

“Umm,” you sighed, like you were preparing to give an explanation that you’d given dozens of times before. “I write online for a magazine. It’s… kind of like a travel blog, but it’s less about the places and more about the people? Here…”

You reached into your pocket for your phone, tapping around for a bit before handing it to him. There was a picture of you at the top, a profile view of you driving, but it was so strongly backlit by a late afternoon sun, that it left your features mostly indistinguishable. Smart. Probably safer that way. Below that, a US map covered in multicolor pins, a calendar view, with dots on days you’d posted, and finally a list of posts. Abbreviated views of each one showed a first name and city, a pen drawing like the one you’d done of him, and the first two sentences of your story.

He nodded slowly.

“You gonna write a story about me, then?”

You fussed with your hair, shifting uncomfortably on your stool.

“Probably not. Unless you want me to. I always ask permission first.”

“I’m sure you do. Didn’t mean nothing by it.”

You sighed again. Sy frowned.

“So what’s the problem then? Looks like there’s a lot here. Doesn’t seem like you need a lot of help.”

“I didn’t think so either,” you said with an unhappy smile. “But my editor has decided that I need to attract more dedicated readers. People who check the website every day, not just when they think to. Subscribers. And to do that, I apparently need to add a little more heart.”

“What’s that mean?” Sy asked.

“Good fuckin question,” you said, lifting your glass as if in a toast. “I guess some sort of emotional buy-in. Something personal and specific so the readers get invested in me specifically, not just the people I talk to.”

“And that brought you down here?”

You shrugged.

“My grandma lives here. Seemed like as good a plan as any.”

“I’m sure she’s glad to see you, whether it helps with your writing or not.”

“Yeah,” you said quietly, your eyes softening. “She really is.”

“How long you think you’ll be staying?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve got two weeks of posts queued up, so I bought myself at least that long before I have to figure out how to… do the emotion thing.”

“That damn emotion thing,” Sy said, shaking his head, smiling a bit when it drew a soft laugh from you.

“Yeah…”

“Maybe I’ll see you around again then,” he ventured, looking at you out of the corner of his eye.

“It’s a tiny ass town,” you said with a smile. “So probably.”

“You’d be okay with that?” he checked.

You laughed again, nudged his shoulder.

“Yeah, I think so. Long as you mind your fuckin manners,” you said, taking on an overplayed surly tone as you repeated his earlier comment back to him.

“I always mind my manners,” he said matter-of-factly, glaring playfully at you when it elicited a snort from you.

“Oh, sure you do,” you laughed, checking the time on your phone.

You took a deep breath in the companionable silence that followed, reaching down to drag your bag up from where it had been tucked safely between your feet. The napkin with Sy’s drawing curled your lips into another smile as you closed it between the pages of your notebook and stowed it in the main zipper pocket along with your pen. Your phone went back into your pocket.

Looked like his time with you was almost up.

He leaned back on his barstool a little, glancing back at Danny who was now schooling the young guy at pool with a self-satisfied smile.

When he returned his attention to you, you were giving him that searching look again.

“About that time?” he asked.

“I think so, yeah,” you said. “It was nice meeting you, Sy. Sorry for giving you a hard time.”

“Nah, you’re not.”

You laughed, shrugged your shoulders.

“I’d like to think it did you some good. But seriously. I had fun talking to you. Thanks for the company.”

He nodded, gave you a smile.

“Thank you.”

“I’ll see you around, I guess.”

“Hope so.”

You took another breath and slid off your stool. Billy came to collect your glass, mostly melted ice now, and you gave him a polite smile.

There was a moment of hesitation, like you wanted to say something else but weren’t sure what. You settled for a little wave as you started to turn towards the door. Then it was Sy’s turn to feel it, the suddenly urgent need to say something, to drag the moment out just a little longer.

He called out your name, a plan forming in his head when you turned quickly back to him.

“Yeah?”

“Well, ‘fore you go, I figure I should ask you...”

“Ask me what?”

If you had any idea what he was about to say, you were hiding it extremely well, just staring at him curiously, head slightly tilted and smiling softly. Almost made him change his mind. Almost.

“You wanna make out later?”

Your eyes lit up, a laugh barely kept in check, locked behind a widening smile.

“Oh, I see. I get it now,” you said, taking a step closer.

Sy raised his eyebrows.

“It’s the eyes that do it. You weren’t doing the eyes before.”

“I’m not doing nothing with my eyes,” he argued, but a smile slipped free when you took another step closer.

“Yes you are,” you laughed. “You’re smoldering.”

“No, ma’am, I don’t smolder.”

“It’s more lighthearted than most,” you admitted. “Dare I say even playful. But it’s still a smolder.”

He shrugged easily, eyes scanning over your face.

“Still ain’t answered my question.”

“Did you mean it?” you asked, raising your eyebrows in challenge.

“Said it, didn’t I?”

You looked him over, humming thoughtfully. He didn’t move, kept right on looking until your eyes returned to his.

“I’ll think about it and let you know,” you answered with an unreadable expression.

“And how are you gonna manage that?” he asked, spinning on the bar stool to keep his eyes on you as you moved towards the door.

You clicked your tongue, patting at your pockets with increasing concern until you finally met his eyes with a despairing frown.

“Oh God, you’re right! I totally lost my phone number. Any chance that I could borrow yours?”

Sy shook his head with a sigh, holding his hand out for your phone as you approached him again, an inescapably smug smile on your lips.

“Think you’re real cute, don’t you?” he muttered, biting at the corner of his lip to keep a smile in check.

“You certainly think so, or it wouldn’t have worked.”

He handed your phone back to you, watched you send him a wink emoji before you turned to leave again with a parting flutter of your fingers.

He shook his head again when the door closed behind you and saved your number as “Trouble.”

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

A/N: I’m very nervous. Please let me know what you think and if you wanna read more! Thanks for sticking with me this far

#syverson x reader #captain syverson x reader #syverson fanfiction #henry cavill fanfiction #sandcastle fanfiction

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gu6chan · 9 months ago

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still thinking about this and going increasingly insane over the thought of caim getting his arms/legs snapped clean in two and being unable to fight or leonard being left to bleed out on the ground somehow still alive despite hardly having a stomach any more btw

idk what their beef is or even could have been but i just know that they would have the most EVIL hate sex known to man

#gu6chan's musings #behold; the reason i go by gu6chan #i need more of caim having a solid 'oh fuck'/'this isn't good' moment even if it is just for a split second #before he goes right back to 'i'll kill you' (i just need to see him in solid pain)#Caim being like that 'what are you gonna do with that big bat??? gonna hit me? better make it hurt. better kill me in one shot' meme before #being met with the most excruciating pain of having his arm snapped in two and the memory #'oh!!! this guy is also jacked up on dragon blood; actually'#rereading the truly diseased and it is interesting how a lot of Leonard's combat seems focused on disarmament rather than outright killing #it kinda shows the difference in that hes LIKE the DOD1 leonard with his pacifism (Leaving them unable to fight or leaving them to Arioch)#but also unlike DOD1 he's VERY ready to get his hands dirty #anyways.........#caim doesn't mind brutality but depending on how much personal salt he has directed towards leonard in 1.3 i wonder if he'd direct it to #a more 'EXPLODE. NOW.' kind of death or a 'I'm going to make this as painful and as gruesome as possible' sort of death and GIVEN that #the idea that they're both dragon-blooders the latter could be a lot of fun for Caim (and me!) seeing how far he can push the extra vitality #so many thoughts.........so nany feelings (most of them horny)

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tothosewholisten · 3 months ago

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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

#the umbrella academy x reader #five hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #tua x reader #viktor hargreeves #ben hargreeves #diego hargreeves #luther hargreeves #ben hargreeves x reader #allison hargreeves x reader #allison hargreeves #luther hargeeves x reader #diego hargreeves x reader #klaus hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves x reader #tua s1 #x reader

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throwawayhero · 3 months ago

Note

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.

#mha #bnha #boku no hero academia #katsuki bakugo #mha bakugou #my hero academia #bakugou x you #bnha bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakugo katsuki #dynamight #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou #lgbtq #lgbtqia #trans ftm #afab reader #throwawayhero

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issacballsac · 1 year ago

Text

“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

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profoundbondfanfic · 6 months ago

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Hi there!

I have been looking in vain for fics with Non-verbal Dean or Castiel. I've read a couple but haven't been able to find anymore and the tagging system only seems to give me junk results not actually related to that.

Thank in advance for your help!

Hey! Here are a few fics we could think of:

All Cats Are Gray After Dark by squirrelofcelestialintent (Explicit, 19k words)

1992, NYC. Dean is a Gulf War veteran working in the grimiest ER in the city, and he’s holding his life together. Kind of? Maybe. But he’s got secrets. No one at work knows that he’s not physically mute due to a war injury, but rather selectively mute from way back in the day, because that is almost impossible to explain. Nobody but Sam knows he’s a rare, male Omega, and the discovery of that secret was why he got kicked out of the army. And nobody, absolutely nobody, knows that he occasionally sneaks out to have anonymous sex with men. Until he meets Castiel freaking Novack - anonymous hook up turned new boss - who in less than a month manages to find out all three.

Casicorn by everandanon (Explicit, 56k words)

When Detective Dean Winchester suddenly finds himself with a new roommate, a mysterious man who doesn’t speak but seems to somehow be connected to the department’s recent vigilante problem, he has no idea what he’s in for. The guy doesn’t know how to work a TV, brush his teeth, or even take a shower, and he stares at Dean all the goddamn time. Not to mention he insists on sleeping in Dean’s bed. While Dean is in it! Weird, right? Except the longer Cas sticks around, the less Dean starts to mind; the more he kind of dreads Cas leaving for good, actually, even though nobody really knows who Cas is or where he came from. And then, one night, Dean happens to witness their vigilante firsthand and realizes he knows Cas even less than he thought . . . (Loosely inspired by The Little Mermaid)

Finding You In Every Sign by casblackfeathers (Explicit, 99k words)

Castiel was content with the constant flow of his life. He had his brother Gabriel, had his coffee shop and the weekly book club meetings as well as a small but solid group of friends. If there was one thing his hateful family had taught him, it was how fast things could go wrong if he let too many variables shape his life. So when he met Dean, a gradual regular at his shop, Castiel knew he was trouble, because Dean was like a comet, beautiful but beyond reach. Ever since his father died, there wasn’t a single constant in Dean’s life. Moving on, never stopping, never getting attached to one thing for too long had made him a drifter for the past seven years. Being the only hearing person in his family hadn’t been easy with a father like John Winchester, so as soon as Dean saw an escape, he took it. Settling down to open his flower shop was anything but easy, especially when he met the elusive deaf owner of the coffee shop next door. The more he discovered about Cas, the louder the voice in the back of his head whispered that maybe Castiel was the person finally worth staying for. And maybe, just maybe, Dean was willing to listen now.

Hear You Me by through_shadows_falling (Explicit, 84k words)

Castiel is a college graduate stuck in two dead-end, part-time jobs. Oh, and he’s Deaf…which to his oldest brother Michael makes him something to constantly fret over. It’s not Castiel’s fault that he doesn’t know what he wants to do with his life, right? Not like it’s Michael’s business anyways. Enter Dean Winchester. A chance encounter with the man has the power to change Castiel’s life - and in the end, maybe, just maybe, it will help him finally understand and accept who he is and what he’s meant to do.

i saw the light by LoversAntiquities (Mature, 14k words)

“Sam, you gotta hear about this ghost story I found the other day,” Susanne says over the speakerphone, just as loud as she has been for the last half hour. For the most part, Castiel ignores her—or tries—and concentrates on the beads dangling from between his fingers, centerpiece pressed to his forehead. Praying doesn’t work, but some mornings, when the coffee doesn’t get him going and the walls feel more like a prison than a home, he sits at the library table and whispers empty words into the crucifix, like Jesus can ease the festering ache in his chest. He can’t—no one else can either.

late july by thanks_tacos (Explicit, 26k words)

'I would like to take in your most abused one,' Castiel says, looking at the rows of doors in the yellow corridor. 'Give him a good home.' After his accident, Castiel needs someone to help him around the small brick house he lives in and the bookstore he owns. So, he adopts Dean; an omega who barely survived being dumped in a ditch and left for dead. Dean doesn't talk, but that's fine; they learn to live together in the quaint, rainy city surrounded by a green forest. Castiel just wants to give Dean a peaceful life he deserves, and maybe also - become his mate?

Looking for a Sign by emwebb17 (Mature, 70k words)

Dean can't figure out why the hot guy on the train is ignoring him…that is until he realizes that the man is profoundly deaf. After an unpleasant misunderstanding, the two become friends. It isn't long before Dean wants more, but Castiel sticks steadfastly to his rule about not dating hearing people. When Dean starts to date other people to try to get over him, Castiel starts to wonder if maybe Dean is the exception to the rule.

No Words by Ltleflrt (Explicit, 112k words)

On the run from his very powerful family, Castiel does his best to get lost. Because if he doesn’t know where he is, his brothers won’t be able to find him very easily either. He ends up in Silverton, a small mountain town nestled deep within the Rocky Mountains where he meets Dean Winchester, a very beautiful and very grumpy omega.

sunflower by unicornpoe (Teen and up, 4k)

Castiel comes home on a Sunday.

Still Waters Run Deep by thisisapaige (Explicit, 41k words)

In the darkest depths of the ocean, sealed into the ma'lak box with Chuck trapped behind the Mark, Castiel loses the battle against God's rage. When Sam and Dean find Castiel on a dark patch of highway— the Mark missing and his grace weak— he cannot speak. It rains. It rains and it rains and it rains. It is a Great Flood. In order to stop God, save the world, and resolve the issues simmering between them for years, Castiel and Dean need to communicate. Perhaps they should build an ark instead.

The Hanged Man by orphan_account (Mature, 87k words)

After Park Ranger Cas Novak saves a mysterious stranger named Dean from an attempted murder in the woods, he finds himself drawn into the man's secretive life. Someone tried to kill Dean, but he's not telling who. In fact, he's barely speaking at all. If he's going to have any hope of helping Dean, Cas will have to convince the man to trust him — all while trying not to fall in love with him along the way.

We also have a mute tag with more fics like these. Also if you search for 'selectively mute dean' or 'mute dean' (or cas if you prefer cas) on ao3 you might get lucky as well.

#asks #group rec #mute #deaf

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waklman · 2 years ago

Text

Breakfast in Bed

summary: the best way to start off your morning is with breakfast? right?

warnings: 18+ (minors dni) smut, handjob, cum eating.

a/n: first time writing smut so please go easy on her (cause i hate how this turned out lol) but i just couldn’t get this idea out of my head for them. so. yeah.

word count: 1.2k.

something ‘bout you masterlist.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

You pause, stuck in an unnatural position—unsure if that’s Bradley’s voice calling out from behind you or not. You had been certain he was still asleep before you started to slip out of bed.

Convincing yourself that you’re just hearing things, you continue your unusual but typically successful crawl off the mattress, aiming to get yourself into the kitchen to start on breakfast.

Almost like a scene out of a horror movie, there’s two cold fingers that hook into the waistband of your underwear, making your eyes shoot wide open. He’s awake.

Bradley immediately pulls you into his side with a solid tug, not giving you a chance to put up a fight as he firmly wraps an arm around you—eyes glued shut the entire time. You try to move, but he mumbles a complaint, tightening his stubborn hold on you.

He’s already started to fall back asleep, moments after capturing you—but you’re wide awake, flaring your nostrils in boredom.

You could’ve got started on the pancake mix by now, and maybe even pour them out into funny shapes for him.

Sighing in defeat, your eyes dart around the room—looking to distract yourself onto something else. And you find that distraction right away.

You swallow harshly—eyes glued right onto the view of his underwear, and the bulge that presents itself underneath it.

And, before Bradley could finally return to his interrupted slumber, there’s open-mouth kisses being strategically placed underneath his jaw, trailing up to his face—leaving a light trail of saliva in it’s wake.

It pulls him right out of his drowsy state.

He swallows, feeling your plump lips ghost over his own. “Bradley,” you whisper against his mouth, scratching your nails against the band of his boxers, knowing he’s been hard under there.

His eyes flutter open, heart racing once he’s met with the sight of you softly biting down on his bottom lip, tugging it forward with your teeth before releasing it.

Bradley sits up at the motion, already moving forward, desperate to feel your mouth against his—but you pull back with a grin.

“Baby, you can’t just—” His breath hitches in his throat.

You don’t say a single thing as you move down to his neck again, leaving fleeting bites there. He groans, feeling you palm over the ache in his boxers next. You put light pressure there, but it’s not enough.

At this point, Bradley thinks he might just unload in his underwear—before you could actually touch him. You’ve been kissing up against his neck, and stroking him long enough through the fabric that there’s a wet patch on his crotch.

Bradley’s breathless, not sure if he can take it anymore. “Please,” he asks—but it comes off like a whine. He traces his thumbs over your tiny boyshorts. The ones that have been rubbing against him all night. God, who knew the heinous choice of women’s underwear would look so good on you.

“Please, what?” You hum, voice firm against the column of his throat. His mouth fully hangs open now, breaking into a sweat under you. “Please, just touch me,” he begs, unashamed.

You tug down his boxers roughly, grinning once he shivers at the feeling of you lightly wrapping your fingers around cock.

Yet, you don’t move—your hand just sit there, completely still.

“Please I—” Bradley’s sentence completely dies on his tongue, faltering as you sweep your thumb over his swollen tip, smearing the leaking precum in circled motions.

He tosses his head back against the headboard, overthrown by the sensation. “Fuck,” he groans, face twisted in concentration, relishing in the feeling of your hand starting to slowly travel down his length next—squeezing him as the side of your digits reach the tufts of brown hair sitting on his base.

You laugh against his flushed neck, nose just lightly brushing against the skin there before you begin sucking and licking away at the sweaty surface, all while working him in slow, deliberate strokes—drawing out an almost painful pant from Bradley’s throat.

It’s dizzying, the way his lungs burn from the restrictive breathing pattern. You pull back, nibbling at his pinkened ear, letting him reposition his neck.

Bradley looks down with tightly knitted brows and the sight is a fucking dream. His plaid boxers are sloppily pulled down to his lower thighs, and your fingers are tightly wrapped around his length, pumping him up and down at a moderate pace—causing Bradley to let out a shaky breath.

If that wasn’t enough to turn his brain into mush, what you say next, does. “Tell me how it feels princess,” you coo in his ear, with only half your body thrown over his side, starting to expedite your movements.

Your pointer finger grazes the vein on the underside of his cock, and he swears he’s starting to see stars. “I—it feels-” Bradley sputters, squeezing his fingers into the flesh of your hips—a desperate attempt to stop himself from unraveling underneath you.

You don’t give him time to adjust to the new speed, already spurring him on further, kicking it up a notch by moving your hand at a quicker—more grueling pace—one that he can barely process as his cock pulsates in your grip.

It doesn’t take him long to become a complete mess under you, squirming against the mattress, hips rutting upwards to chase your palms—panting for more, jaw fallen completely slack. “C’mon pretty boy, use your words. Tell me how it feels,” you croon condescendingly, lifting a finger under his chin, forcing him to look up at you—still not letting up on the intense pace you set.

Bradley weakly meets your stare through half-lidded eyes, barely able to answer you.

All that leaves his mouth is an incoherent string of broken replies, one after the other—he’s almost interrupting himself. “Feels so—ah—fuck—” Bradley’s aware of how pathetic he sounds, struggling to spit out a simple response, but he’s left genuinely unable to—far too overwhelmed from your merciless tempo.

Amused, you lean in, pecking his blubbering mouth as he screws his eyes shut. “Hm? What was that?” you ask teasingly, forehead pressed against his. “Can't hear you,” you press on.

“Feels s’good. T-thank you,” he pants against your lips. “Yeah? You gonna cum for me?” You prod, doubling down on the intensity of your movements, making Bradley go lightheaded.

He hurriedly nods his head against you, in a desperate plea. “Yes—I’m s’close, so so close,” he chants in a pitched voice, heaving under you.

“Cum then.”

“Shit. Shit—baby—oh fuck!” He whines, face contorting in pleasure. “Fuck,” he groans loudly, finally releasing all over your hands.

Bradley is completely spent, trying to calm his erratic heartbeat—crooning as you slowly milk him dry, letting his dick fall limp against his stomach afterwards.

His vision is still splotchy, not noticing you pull your hand back at first.

Bradley blinks rapidly, trying to refocus his eyes—so he could clearly watch you spread his load onto your tongue with a swipe of your finger.

Before you can even say it, Bradley darts forward, ignoring the way his head spins, to dip his tongue into your mouth, having a taste of himself.

Your tongue swirls against his own, transferring the tangy flavor to him in a deep kiss.

You momentarily part from him, but he chases your mouth for more—and you let him. He angles his head so he can reach his tongue deeper into your mouth. Bradley’s in search of any leftovers.

Knowing there’s none left, you swipe your wet finger against his cheek, and he moves off at the signal. He puckers his lips after parting from you. You smile, meeting him in a sweet kiss.

Gently, you stroke your fingers under his chin, petting him affectionately. “Are you in the mood for pancakes now?” You ask, puffing your cheeks.

Bradley laughs in response, eyes softening—knowing you’ve been feening to make him breakfast, since he bought that new pancake mix to try. “Yeah babybear. Want a stack of em.” he answers, leaning into your touch.

“Dinosaur shaped or airplane shaped? Which one are you in the mood to eat?”

“I want them you shaped.” he grins.

“Bradley I—that’s not.”

thank you for reading, and as always-reblogs are greatly appreciated!

join taglist for this series here. or follow me on @waklman-library and turn in notifs to be notified when i post!

tags: @wkndwlff @sammyrenae68 @stark3ys @roosterbruiser @gracelyn-writes @zombiedeathsworld @blueoorchid

#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley 'rooster' bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw smut #bradley bradshaw series #bradley rooster x reader #bradley rooster x y/n #rooster x reader #rooster smut #tgm fic #sbu

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cheynovak · 24 days ago

Text

Between Power and Freedom

Part 3

Characters: Dean Winchester x Y/N Shurley Female character

Summary: Y/N, the ambitious daughter of a powerful CEO, grapples with her father's choices, while she secretly takes a job with Dean Winchester, the rugged CEO of a rival company. Sparks fly between Y/N and Dean as they navigate their growing attraction amid corporate rivalry and family pressure.

Warnings: This story will contain parts that are 18+!

English is not my first language

*Please do not copy my work, reblog/comments/likes are appreciated*

The next week, I officially signed my contract with Winchester industries. It felt surreal—walking into that building, knowing I was a spy for my dad. Sam was there to greet me, and we went over the business, everything I needed to know as I settled into my new role. It wasn’t long before I met Bobby, the finance manager Sam had mentioned.

Bobby was an older man, gruff and not one for small talk, but it didn’t take long for me to realize he was more than just an employee. He was like a father to the Winchester boys, more so than their own had ever been, from what little they’d mentioned about him. Despite his rough exterior, I respected him immediately, and over the next month, we worked side by side as he started to trust me more and more.

It was about a month in when Bobby pulled me aside. He’d been grumbling about his health for a while, but that day, he told me he needed to take a long overdue vacation—doctor’s orders.

"I’ll be gone for a month, at least," he said, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable with the idea of stepping away from the business. "I want you to take over while I’m gone, make sure everything runs smooth, can you do that kid?"

I was surprised by the offer, but honored that Bobby trusted me enough to handle things in his absence. "Of course, Bobby. I won’t let you down," I promised, and he gave me a short nod, the closest thing to a smile I’d seen from him.

The work was challenging but rewarding. Every night, though, my father would call, demanding a status update. “What have you found? Any cracks in the books? Anything I can use?” he’d press. But I had nothing to give him. Winchester industries was clean, their financials solid, and no matter how much I combed through the accounts, there was nothing shady to report back to my father. He grew more impatient by the day.

“Slow process,” he sneered during one of our calls, his voice dripping with disappointment. “I expected better from you, Y/N.”

But I no longer cared about meeting his expectations. I loved my work at Winchester. Bobby treated me with respect, Sam made sure I felt supported, and Dean—well, Dean was a different story altogether.

He was charming in a rough-edged way, always surrounded by women like Jo. But I was focused on my work, and I wasn’t going to get distracted by Dean Winchester, no matter how my heart might skip a beat whenever he walked into the room.

On Bobby’s last night before his vacation, he invited me over to his place for dinner.

It was a family affair, with both Sam and Dean there, along with Sam’s wife, Eileen, and Dean’s girlfriend, Jo. As soon as I arrived, I felt the tension between Dean and Jo. She had this loud, flashy persona that clashed with the grounded, hardworking energy in the room.

Jo wasn’t like Eileen, or even me. She seemed more interested in flaunting her relationship with Dean than actually being a part of his life. She gave off that sugar-baby vibe—more interested in what Dean could offer her than in Dean himself. It wasn’t hard to see why the two of them clashed.

Dinner was lively, with everyone sharing stories and laughing. I learned that Sam and Eileen had married last summer, and they were the picture of a perfect couple—gentle, caring, completely in sync. Jo, on the other hand, seemed to dominate the conversation, throwing little digs at Dean, complaining about how long it was taking for him to propose.

"Dean, when are you going to stop playing around and put a ring on it?" Jo teased loudly, and I saw the way Dean's jaw tightened. He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

It was obvious she was pushing him, and I could see the discomfort it caused. As the evening wore on, tensions between them escalated, and soon enough, they were outside, having what seemed like their daily argument.

“Well, that didn’t take long,” Sam said with a sigh, shaking his head as he glanced out the window at his brother and Jo, now arguing on the porch.

I looked confused, turning to Eileen. "Do they fight often?" I asked, wondering how a relationship like that could survive.

Eileen gave me a sympathetic smile. "Every day," she explained, as if it was common knowledge. "Jo wants more—marriage, status—and Dean… well, Dean isn’t ready. He likes his freedom. And Jo doesn’t really understand that."

I nodded slowly, trying to make sense of it all. Jo wasn’t Dean’s type, at least not from what I could see. She seemed more like an accessory to his life than a partner, and it was clear that the tension between them was only going to grow.

I couldn’t help but wonder why he stayed with her, why he didn’t just let go. But then again, maybe I was projecting my own feelings. Maybe I was starting to care about Dean more than I should.

As the night wound down and the fight outside continued, I realized something. This family, despite its complications, was accepting me as their own. And no matter what my father said, they didn't use me in a way like he does.

I had found my place. And I wasn’t going to give it up.

Dean walked back into the room, his expression tense but composed. “Jo went home,” he said, almost nonchalantly, though I could sense the frustration behind his words. He apologized to Bobby, who just waved it off, clearly not bothered by the drama that had unfolded.

I was in the kitchen, finishing up the dishes. The last thing I wanted was to leave a mess after Bobby had been so kind to invite me into his home. Dean wandered over and stood beside me, his presence heavy but not unpleasant.

“So, how you feeling about the company?” he asked, his tone casual but curious.

I glanced over at him, surprised he was even asking. “It’s different,” I admitted. “In a good way. Everyone’s more… open. It’s not just about numbers or control. I actually like it here.”

He nodded, but the silence that followed felt a little strained. I hesitated for a moment, my mind flashing back to the argument he’d just had with Jo. Against my better judgment, I spoke up.

“Are you okay?” I asked quietly. “It’s not really my place, but… if you want to talk about the fight with Jo—”

His response was immediate, cutting. “It is indeed not your place.” His voice was cold, his words sharp, and I felt the sting of them as if he’d slapped me.

I lowered my head, instantly regretting the question. I should’ve known better than to pry. Dean Winchester wasn’t the type to open up easily, especially not to someone like me, who was still relatively new in his world. The silence between us was thick, and I just focused on the dishes, trying to push away the awkwardness.

A few minutes later, I was ready to leave. I hugged Bobby goodbye, thanking him for dinner and telling him that if he needed any help during his recovery, he could always call me. Bobby grunted in his usual way, but I could tell he appreciated it.

Just as I reached the door, I heard Dean’s voice behind me. “Let me drive you home,” he offered. “You don’t need to walk in the dark.”

I was surprised—especially after how cold he’d been earlier—but I didn’t decline. “Alright, thanks,” I said softly.

The drive started out awkward, with only the sound of the car’s engine filling the silence. Dean kept his eyes on the road, his expression unreadable. I kept my hands folded in my lap, feeling small and unsure.

But then, after a few minutes, he spoke. “Hey,” he said, his voice softer than before. “I’m sorry for biting your head off earlier.”

I glanced at him, taken aback by the apology. Dean wasn’t the kind of guy who usually admitted when he was wrong, at least not from what I’d seen.

“It’s fine,” I said quickly, not wanting to make a big deal out of it. “I shouldn’t have asked.” He shook his head. “No, it’s not that. You were just trying to be nice. I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

I offered him a small smile, feeling a bit of the tension ease. “Thanks. I just… I could tell something was bothering you. But I get it, it’s personal.”

Dean sighed, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. “Jo and I… it’s complicated. She wants more than I can give right now. And I’m not sure I’m the guy who’s ever gonna be able to give her what she wants.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, so I just nodded, letting his words settle in the air. It was strange, hearing Dean Winchester—a man who seemed so sure of himself in every other aspect of life—admit to doubt and uncertainty.

After a few more minutes of silence, he pulled up in front of my apartment. He put the car in park and turned to me, his green eyes soft and maybe a little weary.

“Thanks for the ride,” I said, giving him a genuine smile as I unbuckled my seatbelt.

As I stepped out of the car, something clicked in my mind. Maybe Dean was looking for someone to be there for him. I hesitated for a moment, then turned back around and leaned against the open window, my heart pounding a little faster.

“Dean…” I began, trying to sound casual, “would you like to come in for a talk?”

I could see the conflict on his face, his eyes searching mine, unsure if he should accept the invitation. For a brief second, I thought he might decline, but then, almost as if the weight of his thoughts became too heavy to carry alone, he nodded.

We walked up to my apartment in silence. Once inside, I offered him a glass of bourbon, which he accepted with a quiet “thanks.” The dim lighting made everything feel a little more intimate, a little less tense. I could see the guarded expression on Dean’s face starting to soften.

He took a deep breath, staring at the glass in his hand. “I met Jo when I was in a bad place,” he began, his voice low. “My sister, Charlie, died in an accident. I was... I was wrecked. My dad, he was always tough—never the soft kind of guy—but after we lost Charlie, he became... unbearable.”

His eyes darkened at the memory. “Jo was my escape. She was wild, unpredictable, and I thought I needed that at the time. A way to forget, you know?”

I nodded, staying quiet so he could continue. I could hear the pain in his voice, and it was hard to imagine the confident, carefree Dean Winchester I’d come to know carrying all that weight. It was as if, beneath the exterior, he was still that little boy, yearning for his father’s approval, for something solid to hold onto.

“I thought Jo could fill that void Charlie left, because Char was wild and free, she loved to travel.” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “But now... I don’t know. I think maybe I’m just hanging on because it’s familiar.”

"There are days I don't even know what I do with the company. I kept it because it was my dads, but I'm sure if he was alive he'd smack my head for what I did to it."

I reached out instinctively, my hand finding its way to his shoulder. I gave it a gentle squeeze, feeling the tension in his muscles. “Dean,” I said softly, “you’re doing great. You’ve built something incredible with your company, and you’re an amazing boss."

He turned his head, locking eyes with me, and in that moment, the air between us shifted. There was something intense in his gaze, something raw and vulnerable, and before I even had time to process what was happening, his lips were on mine.

The kiss was sudden and fierce, his hand reaching up to tangle in my hair as his other arm wrapped firmly around my waist. His lips were rough, yet desperate, and when his tongue sought entrance, I froze for a second, startled by the sudden rush of it all. My mind was racing, caught between shock and the undeniable pull I felt toward him.

I quickly broke the kiss, my heart pounding in my chest. Dean pulled back immediately, his face full of regret, his hands dropping to his sides as if he didn’t know what to do with them.

“I—I’m sorry,” he stammered, his face flushing with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to… God, I’m an idiot.”

He stood up, clearly flustered, running a hand through his hair. “I shouldn’t have done that,” he muttered, his voice thick with guilt. “I don’t know what the hell I was thinking.”

I stayed silent for a moment, my own emotions swirling in confusion. The truth was, I didn’t know how to feel either. The kiss had caught me off guard, but it hadn’t felt wrong. It was just... unexpected.

“Dean,” I said, my voice soft, trying to calm him down. “It’s okay. Really.” He looked at me, his expression still conflicted, but I could see the apology in his eyes.

“I just… I don’t know how to handle all this,” he admitted quietly, almost as if confessing it to himself. “I’m a mess, and you don’t deserve to get caught up in that.”

I shook my head, taking a step closer to him. “We’re all a little messed up, Dean,” I said gently. “But you don’t have to deal with it alone.”

Dean looked at me for a long moment, as if trying to figure out if he could let himself believe that. Then he nodded, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “Thanks,” he said, his voice more grounded now. “I mean it.”

I offered him a small smile, trying to lighten the mood. “Let’s just... chalk that up to the bourbon and a long night, yeah?” Dean chuckled softly, the tension finally easing a little from his face. “Yeah. Let’s do that.”

He stayed for a little longer, and we talked—about work, life, anything that wasn’t too heavy. When he finally left, there was no awkwardness, just an understanding that something had shifted between us.

I wasn’t sure where it would lead, but one thing was clear: Dean Winchester wasn’t as untouchable as he seemed.

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#fanfic #jensen ackles #x reader #jensen fucking ackles #fluff #dean winchester #spn #smut #supernatural dean #deanwinchester #dean #sam and dean #sam winchester

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thornswoggled · 5 months ago

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yori is fumiki and heres why: my manifesto

or: wait, we werent all on the same page about this?

i should have written this when i first read chapter 98, but im only getting around to it now. this is less me trying to convince you, the reader, and more hoarding all my collected thoughts on why yori is absolutely fumiki, if its a red herring its a silly one, and if he isnt or if its left ambiguous forever i will eat crow. here we go:

before i start let me say most of my evidence is the way yamazaki frames him visually rather than solid "proof." comics are an artform, theres a reason things get framed the way they do, and her artistic choices in ch 98 (i feel) are meant to serve as a big blinking neon light that says "you should be feeling this way about xyz right now"

iic, there were rumblings of "the young auditor" being fumiki as far back as his introduction in ch 51 due to to his unique ability:

which is essentially a refined version of fumikis innate ability to keep fae away. we know yori is part of a "family business," and it seems appropriate that with the proper training, he would be able to freeze fae in their tracks rather than simply ward them off

unfortunately this is where "evidence" ends and "vibes" begin

chapter 51 didnt get adapted into what was otherwise a pretty faithful adaptation in season 2, and i understand why - theres a lot going on, and this chapter is fairly out of left field. but theres one other quip that got left out of season 2:

this is a one-off thought that wouldnt have been difficult to include in the anime. imo, i believe this line from ch 62 didnt get animated because we hadnt met fumiki yet like we did in the manga. now, onto more recent chapters... (under a read more because this is going to get pretty long)

chise and yoris first meeting is framed in a very purposeful way. in chapter 98, elias is preoccupied with ousting all the outsiders so that he and chise can be alone, stuck on the idea that "christmas is for family only:"

and three pages later, who do we meet?

im really struck by the way chise and yori are drawn together here. personally, i dont read this as "chise is meeting a new unimportant side character," this is "the strings of fate have pulled us miraculously back together again"

waiter! waiter! can i get an order of drifting sakura petals and sparkles with this panel? am i waxing poetic here or do you see it? the way theres no background drawn here, no other characters, even in later pages when we know elias is standing right behind chise, he doesnt get included in frame so that its just the two of them:

while im at it, can we appreciate how theyre wearing the same outfit? black pants and a hip-length dark coat/sweater with oversized pockets, a collar, and six left-sided buttons. yoris dark gloves also evoke chises cursed arm here but i dont want to risk looking like a maniac any more than i already do. i mean... dude, look at them, theyre matching

speaking of matching, lets pop back to 51 for a sec

both yori and chise have canine familiars! actually, it looks like yori might have multiple - look at all those pokeballs i mean bamboo tubes in his coat. if my memory serves, we didnt know yori was japanese at this point, but everyone assumed so because of the appearance of this familiar... which was another log on the "this might be fumiki" fire

fun fact: this little dude is almost certainly a kuda-kitsune, which were said to be kept in tubes and summoned by a soothsayer, who could use it to perform curses, or tell the past and future

and the drama with which we find out his "name":

"i bet you were expecting me to say fumiki, huh. good luck im not giving you that this early you have to work for it." as far as aliases go, "ri" could be derived from "hatori," but neither of the kanji in "fumiki" can be read as "yo," so its probably just random

after yori leaves, we get another repetition of "christmas is for family," which at this point feels like yamazaki is leading us to water and dunking our head in it:

i think its awfully convenient that ruth was absent for chises exchange with yori. do you think he would have been able to smell that theyre related? or whiffed the kuda-kitsune in his coat?

right after this, too, we get this line from elias which i have been thinking about a lot:

theres a few different ways this could be read, so im not married to any one interpretation, but it could be foreshadowing "if chise decides to pursue a relationship with her estranged family, what will i do then?" as gabriella would say, "i hate to be a third wheel"

given what we have seen of yoris aloof personality, i have to imagine there will be drama if/when the reveal is made. sadly i can picture him actually pushing chise away if she tries to reestablish a relationship with him

now! that is pretty much where my thoughts end, but i do want to share questions/doubts i have:

if yori read all of simons reports to determine he was an unfit observer, there is no way he doesnt know chises full name. i wonder whether he had any reaction to it? he may assume that its just a coincidence. i briefly wondered if the hatori name was an invention by yuuki, until i remembered that the family chise stays with in the OVA also has the same name. unless yuuki was adopted by another family like seth...? dont mind me, im going pepe silvia mode over here

have i mentioned i talked about yuuki before in another theory post? take it with a grain of salt, i already got proven wrong on one front now that jasper has been introduced

will yuuki be reintroduced if fumiki is? i desperately want chise to get that closure, but this scene from ch 42 has a sense of finality to it, a sort of "you will never get to resolve things with your father or see his side of things" stank:

... actually, now that ive mentioned the kuda-kitsune, can we look at this thing again?

another word for the kuda-kitsune is "izuna," which is read in modern japanese as "weasel." could the critter whos watching yuuki here come from the same place as yoris familiars? yuuki leaves his family immediately after this - getting summoned maybe?

okay, okay, let me stop myself here before i start looking like im ranting and raving. can we talk about the mail, please, mac? ive been dying to talk about the mail with you all day, ok? "pepe silvia," this name keeps coming up over and over again. every day pepe's mail is getting sent back to me. pepe silvia! pepe silvia! i look in the mail, and this whole box is pepe silvia!

if youre a fence-sitter, what are your thoughts? do you think we just dont have enough evidence yet? inquiring minds want to know

#original #fumiki #the ancient magus bride #mahoutsukai no yome #theory

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linkspooky · 18 days ago

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What in particular inspired you to write Burn This City, Burn This City Down? It's a very unique fic.

Oh man I hope you're ready to take my hand and go on a journey with me because this is going to be long ride.

The first version of this fic came from 1) the ending of the Search where Azula runs off into the woods and we were just left on that cliffhanger for years. The first story that ever gave me the inspiration though was Katanagatari by Nisioisin, especially after I read the translated light novel for the first time.

Katanagatari is a story of a former princess who wants revenge teaming up with a human who was raised as a weapon known as Yasuri Shichika who comes from an entire family of martial artists living on an island. She takes Shichika out to the world and they gather twelve magical swords for the shogunate government. Basically, it's easy to see how you could put Azula into this scenario. Except instead of swords it was just going to be Azula wanting to resolve different political issues or, my earliest idea was killing members of the red lotus in the colonies far from Zuko's jurisdiction.

Lio came from this initial idea and he was one, a person in the forest that Azula met, and two a very strong martial artist who is unhealthily devoted to her. Basically it's what Azula thinks she wants in a relationship, a perfect solider who follows her every order and is unconditionally loyal. That relationship eventualyl breaks apart though as Azula eventually has to go back to her real friends, because Lio mirrors like all her bad flaws at her.

I had serious trouble coming up with an overarching plot though, because Katanagatari's plot is just "go to the place, fight the guy, get the sword" and it was just hard to come up with 12 seperate guys for Azula to fight. Also it wasn't feasible because she'd basically spend all her time away from canon characters. I tried to throw Jet in too so it wouldn't just be Azula and this OC, but it never really got past the planning stages.

There were a few manga I read that were also Azula adjacent that helped further my ideas along. I've referenced Akatsuki no Yona before, and TGCF too, but those were a little bit too much like Katanagari. I liked the idea of like Azula roaming the country side with a partner character improving things by herself for awhile like Yona does with Akatsuki no Yona but I ran into the same problem again it would be 90% Azula and this oc with no canon interaction. I did like making Hua Cheng really weird though, and that became Lio like, developing entitled, posessive and borderline stalkery behaviors.

I'm sure you've noticed the fic hasn't become incredibly surreal and weird yet. So the actual tone and the way the fic portrays mental illness comes from three works in praticular. Tokyo Ghoul, which is kind of where I got my start on this blog, Kara no Kyoukai, and Tsukihime. The idea to make Lio a disassoicative disorder personality so Azula would have someone to sympathize with her and understand she's hallucinating came from a character named Shiki Ryougi who is also a character who has a system.

The prose style that is lowkey horror comes from my best attempts to write in a Nasu style in Tsukihime. Basically part of the reason the fanfic is so surreal is because I want to use elements of horror to add to the surrealism in order to make the audience viscerally fear the feel that characters like Azula do when they lose control over the reality in front of them.

When going in the forest for the Search I wanted to lean heavily on the Suicide Forest or the Forgetful Valley being an actually terrifying or unnerving setting to be in. I also thought the Mother of Faces was a cool idea for a spirit that the comics completely blew. So one of the improvements was making Mother of Faces a genuinely terrifying inhuman entity where the entire forest is basically her playground and humans are her puppets. It's a continued trend I want to do in this fic to make spirits like genuinely terrifying, and at the most indifferent to humans and at the worst extremely hostile.

The second was making the forest an actually scary and confusing place to be in. The forest is the head, and Azula is the head, and she's dreaming the forest. The forest is a metaphor for how Azula is lost inside her own head and trapped because no one in the world empathizes with her or tries to understand her, and like, Zuko sees her run into that huge forest twice and just watches her go even though she could end up dead in a ditch.

There's two big inspirations I took for describing the forest itself. The first was the book roadisde picnic and the movie STALKER which are about a zone in Russia which is fundamentally altered by aliens where nothing in that zone follows the laws of physics and instead follows their own abusrd laws. The second was from the book and movie annihilation. In annihilation the strange zone where strange things happen is nature actively like, retaking the earth, and changing the humans who enter that territory into something else.

As for Azula's narration itself and the way her mental health is depicted, I basically got her narration style down especially in her trippy points by reading Girl, Interrupted roughly one hundred times. My general rule of thumb is that Azula's narration is incredibly dry and mechanical and straight to the point, and her prose is very minimialist until it's not. Azula is very high functionning until she is not. Then the self-loathing, and the paranoia, and the voices begin to creep in. Yet on the surface Azula will do absolutely everything to pretend she is not loosing her grip of things until she has, full on meltdowns. This pattern continues ad infinituum, Azula just gets better at hiding her sympatoms and appearing more functional. Girl, interrupted though with the very detached kind of narration, the anachronistic order I employ a lot in this fic.

So the fic rewrite existed for awhile, like there were ten different drafts of the first chapter where Azula just finds a masked man in the woods after running away from Zuko.

So, okay I lied there is one more inspiration for the way I write Azula which is Zaregoto by Nisioisin and specifically the way he writes the main character IIchan and this very detached narrator voice who like, clearly suffers from some type of schizo-type and will have the most surreal moments of narration. That is primarily a mystery series so that's what gave me the plot in it's final form. It's basically like a mystery series that's led by two unreliable narrators Azula and Lio, and Zuko who let's be honest another unreliable narrator, and then Katara and Aang who are the most reliable narrators but they're also kind of like, they're not as aware of the dark side of the world and are more naive. I basically told myself like, I'll write it like a mystery novel. Instead of solving murders though it'll be political intrigue, where we have to follow two unreliable narrators. Two unreliable narrators who we don't know everything about bevcause the narration skips along their history in anancronistic order, and that'll be a metaphor for the weird way that Azula and Lio both experience reality because of how disordered their thinking is now.

The surraelist stuff started to finalize into like a solid plot when I read another fic. I don't know if I should like, mention this fic. I'm going to complain about it so I probably shouldn't mention it by name. Okay I'm just going to be vague about it. There was a Zuko / Sokka fanfic where Azula has been fully redeemed by her brother and they get along great and she is basically, playing political games in the court for her brother's sake. Sokka however doesn't know this and becomes suspicious of her and becomes embroiled in the politics too. In this version Azula is kind of just Zuko's attack dog which was very funny.

It's a fic where I did like Azula and Sokka's characterization, and like revitalized my desire to write avatar fic but I also had just as many faults in it. Basically my biggest nitpick in any Zuko and Azula fanfic is where they protray Zuko as a compassionate brother who helped Azula in her rehabilitation because like, that's just not what happened. So Zuko kind of just felt like a non character because there's no acknowledgment that Zuko can really be just as bad to Azula as Azula is to him and like... I need that drama in my life.

It also like timeskipped past her entire recovery and like I don't want sane Azula, I want barely functional Azula wearing a mask of sanity and convinced she peaked at fourteen and just trying to feel like the way she did when she was fourteen. I need her to be like "oh yes, I'm fixed now" and then have her start to break down again because she never actually learned to deal with stress.

The other was that the ocs in the fic were absolutely boring, like the villains were one note. It was this grand spiraling political plot but the villains behind the plot had no human motivations and Azula killed them in like five minutes. I was like no, no I can make my own ocs. I will have this new fic have actual compelling antagonists who feel like they are characters in the story and actually move the plot and challenge the main characters.

So to Summarize this long ramble, basically my idea for this fic came from the collective works of Nasu and Nisioisin. It started out as like, a journey through the colonies and help people fic to like, taking place entirely in Caldera City. That's where the current idea of Azula dealing with factions who are trying to take her brother's thrown from her, and also she's trying to play the political game that everyone else is playing comes from. Azula is playing political games but like, also, the people she's playing against aren't one note bad guys they're actually interesting characters.

I also want to basically adapt a kind of like, mystery novel character following the mystery through all the political intrigue and finding the answer. I guess you'd call that "Noir". Like the confusing surrealism stuff in the search part of the story shows how lost Azula is in the forest. The confusing surrealism stuff in Caldera City will now be about how Caldera city is a city of liars, where everyone has their own hidden motivation and Azula has to navigate all of that again.

Okay, I hope that answered your qusetion. I can cite some more sources on scenes that inspired me. That scene where Lio saw Azula and the first thing he thought about was how he wanted to stab her a whole bunch is a reference to Tsukihime where Shiki meets Arcueid for the first time.

The story for Azula, Interupted of someone else framing Azula for killing cats and turtleducks comes from a really brief flashback in Tokyo Ghoul where Mutsuki remembers killing cats as a child and gets made fun of for it. Then she remembers running all the way to where she buried all the cat's tongues, and picks the jar up and cries and begs for the cats to forgive her. I know that's kind of a weird scene, but basically that whole chapter came from my idea of Azula remembering getting slapped by her mom for killing the turtleducks and begging someone to believe her and then it suddenly flashes forward to the future and Azula is still crying about it.

That's all I can remember referencing or getting inspired by for now.

#burn au #askspookies #authors notes

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