#also can u believe it has been a month ic

[moonstruckme]

I am clean from sh for about 6 months now (yay me) and lately, idk why, I’ve just kinda been struggling with accepting my scars and the fact that I’ll have them probably forever and your writing is really comforting and actually helps, so I wanted to ask if u could maybe write something with Spencer helping reader feel ok with having them on reader‘s thighs?

totally understand that that’s a touchy topic and if u don’t wanna write it, I also completely get it, thanks anyway for even reading this xxx

Ahh yay you!!! Congrats baby, and thank you for requesting <3

cw: past self harm, some nudity that's really not sexual but they joke about it a bit

Spencer Reid x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words

You’re sweltering. D.C. doesn’t usually get very warm, but for the last week you’ve been on a streak of record-breaking temperatures that’s made your clothes stick to your skin and has caused even your perpetually chilled boyfriend to refrain from putting on his cardigan until he gets inside his work each morning. Just walking between your car and various air conditioned buildings is enough to make you consider moving to the Arctic. 

“Oh my god,” you groan, flopping inelegantly down on the bed to peel your jeans off. “Can we turn the A/C down to sixty, please?” 

“Let’s start with seventy,” Spencer negotiates. You hear his footsteps stop halfway down the hall as he adjusts the monitor. “I think we still have some lemonade left, if you want some.”

“Ugh, yes.” You tear your jeans off your ankles with enough force to nearly send them flying across the room and sigh blissfully as the A/C kicks on. 

You change out of your sweaty shirt too, going for your pajamas despite it being hours from darkness falling. You have no plans to go out into that hellscape again until tomorrow. You hesitate over a pair of pajama shorts before slipping on loose pants instead, not quite as cool but still light enough to allow some air flow. 

“I love you,” you tell Spencer when he passes you your lemonade as you come into the living room, sitting beside him on the couch. Ice clinks inside your glass, which is already forming little beads of condensation. You have the urge to rub it on your face. “I mean, unconditionally, but especially right now.” 

“I’ll take it,” he jokes back, tilting his head back so his face is in the path of the A/C vent. When he looks up, he finds you pinching up the fabric of your pants around your knees, trying to create a pathway for the air to move up your legs. “Why are you wearing those?”

You know what he’s asking you, and you intentionally misunderstand. “I felt like it was pajama time. No way am I going outside again today.” 

“Right, but aren’t you warm?” Spencer tilts his head. He looks like a particularly cunning puppy, brown eyes soft and inquisitive.

“A little,” you admit. 

“Then why not wear something shorter?” 

“That’s awfully forward of you.” You do your best to give him a smile. It doesn’t stick around long in the face of your boyfriend’s serious expression, increasingly worried. “Maybe I don’t feel like parading my legs around for you.” 

You can see the cogs turning in Spencer’s brain, and the usually fascinating process is suddenly almost painful to watch. You know he’s thinking of what you refusing to wear shorts used to mean, how nobody ever thought anything of it because, again, D.C. doesn’t tend to get very warm. How evasive you were about it then, too. An uncomfortable weight settles in your stomach. 

“Is there a reason you don’t want them out?” he asks, and his voice is gentle but his gaze is unflinching. 

You try to hold it as you shake your head. “I’m still clean.” The words seem to take more air than they should. Your guilt and embarrassment are enough to choke on. “I promise.” 

Spencer nods. “I believe you.” 

His eyes don’t so much as twitch down to your covered thighs. Relief like a cool breeze passes through you. It’s no small thing, his trust in you. Not after you’d gone so far out of your way to hide the evidence of your hurt from him before. 

“But it’s still related to that, isn’t it?” He lifts his glass, taking a sip before wiping the corner of his mouth. You almost smile, picturing your boyfriend in an interrogation room asking questions with this same gentle tone and wide open, curious expression. You don’t think Spencer could ever be harsh. 

“Yeah,” you say. What felt like something private and humiliating a minute before you suddenly want to share with him. Spencer tends to have that effect on you; he makes divulging your most gut-twisting secrets feel natural and easy. “My scars just haven’t gone away. I don’t really want to see them.” 

Spencer’s mouth pinches. “You know they won’t ever fully go away, right?” 

“Yeah.” You sigh, but it doesn’t feel like letting anything out. “I know.” 

“They will probably fade, though.” His fingers circle your ankle loosely, calluses skimming softly over your achilles tendon. “Is it that you don’t want to see them, or you don’t want me to?” 

You rub your lips together. Shrug. “Both, I guess.” 

He tilts his head. Like your answer is expected, but nonetheless perplexing. “I don’t care if I see them,” he says. His hand coasts up your leg, over the fabric of your pants, until he grasps it by your knee. “Can I?” 

You nod. You know he’d let it go if you said no, but it’s not worth begrudging him. “Sure.” 

Spencer brings both hands to the fabric at your hips, and you lift your bum up off the couch as he pulls downwards. Your legs are happy to breathe, the cool air coming out of the vent even nicer than you’d thought it would be. Spencer keeps going until your pajama pants are balled up underneath your feet. 

“You really were hot,” he says. It’s neither teasing nor gloating, a simple statement of fact. His fingers come to rest at your ankle again, and it’s the only kind of warmth you’ll allow. “Is it actually worth it?” 

You look down at your thighs. Your skin feels better than it had covered up, but it’s also a physical reminder of things you’d rather forget. “I don’t know,” you reply. 

“I understand why you don’t like them,” Spencer says. When you look up, you expect him to be as stuck on your scars as you are, but he’s looking at your face. His stare is calm and unmoving, like they don’t command his attention the way they do yours. “But I think they may be with you for a while. It might help to start trying to get used to them.” 

You blow out a breath. “I want to.” 

“I know,” he says. Easily, the way he’d said I believe you. And you think that he probably does know. Spencer has things from his past he can’t fully leave behind, too. 

His forefinger moves slowly up and down the back of your ankle, an absentminded gesture for him and a comfort for you. Slowly, his eyes dip down to your legs. You fight the urge to squirm and hide. 

“You know,” he muses, “there’s actually one thing I sort of like about seeing them.” 

Your top lip starts to curl automatically, your brows pulling together. “What?” 

“Just, that they’re old.” Spencer seems not to have noticed your reaction. His gaze is contemplative. “I mean, it’s not that I’m looking for them all the time or anything, but it’s nice to see them and know there aren’t going to be any new ones. These ones will fade, and then that will be it.” 

Something new clogs your throat. It’s just as heavy as before, but far kinder. 

Spencer looks up at you. He looks sheepish, the corner of his mouth uptilted self-consciously. “Sorry, it’s a weird line of thinking. I don’t want you to think I’m always checking on them.”

“No,” you swallow, “I get it. That’s nice, Spence.” 

He shrugs. “It’s the truth.” 

You could almost laugh. He makes things so simple. “I’ll change into shorts.” 

“You don’t have to,” he says. “If you’re already cooling off.” 

“Oh, yeah?” You keep your voice light, grinning at him as you shuffle over to straddle his lap. His fingers brush over a couple of the lines on your thigh as he brings them around your back, and the sensation doesn’t make you feel as shuddery as usual. You hug him with your arms around his neck. “You’re cool with me just staying like this then? No pants?” 

“Not if you don’t want to wear them,” he says agreeably. 

You laugh and hug him harder. “Thanks,” you tell him sincerely. 

Spencer only makes a soft dismissive sound as he hugs you back. 

[writingstoraes]

lover 🪻

pairing: charles leclerc/fem!singer!reader

type: instagram imagine, social media au

notes: this is another thing i thought of knowing i have hundreds of unattended drafts lolol lmk what u think! this is like very similar to something i've posted before but only w a slightly different ending... hehe also am using mother taylor's lyrics cause they're just too good

about: you and charles seem to be really quiet, it's either one of two things — you're over or you're about to release a masterpiece that shatters all break up rumors.

wagsoff1

liked by wannabewag, norrisfan, hamilec, and 25,439 others

wagsoff1 It has been 100 days since Y/N was seen in the paddock. Her last appearance was during the 2023 Australian GP. Any thoughts? ��

leclercsainz yeah honestly the two of them have been really quiet lately... i'm scared

ynfan this is such a reach? 😬

lecsyn4eva are we forgetting that y/n has her own career, a pretty successful one at that, it's normal for her to not be at races at times?

wagsoff1 Hmm yeah but she's missed a ton of races, apparently rumors are only ever growing that they might be over... lecsyn4eva maybe we stop sticking our noses where it doesn't belong 🤨

queenyn MOTHER WE MISS YOU pls come back

sainzstappen Classic pattern of broken up F1 couples lol miss a few races then suddenly statements are out 😆

popgirlstm stop i will literally jump off a bridge

yourusername

liked by zendaya, florencepugh, landonorris, and 2,340,923 others

yourusername At every table, I'll save you a seat.

My 3rd full-length album, Lover, is out tomorrow at 12 EST. Sorry for the surprise but see you at the premiere ❤️

lecsyn BITCH THIS IS WHY YOUVE BEEN QUIET

mothertay miss mam we havent heard from you in months how can you drop a bomb like this so casually

norrislaren IM CRYING I DID NOT SEE THIS COMING

midnightshouse y/n i need to know if i can shake my ass to this album or i will be destroying ice cream pints with tears on my face

ynalbums Judging from the title... it sounds like it's more on the romance side? gucciluv oh my god there's hope for charles and her after all 🙏

charles_leclerc

liked by pierregasly, carlossainz55, scuderiaferrari, and 1,295,294 others

charles_leclerc My lover.

Beyond excited for your album, amour. Thanks for letting me be a part of it 🤍

lecsyncharles CROWD CHEERS OH MY GOD

hamilstappen im crying they broke the streak they're alive! WAR IS OVER

charlierari part of it... y/n ft. charles????

carlossainz55 Hey this counts as your musical debut? 😆

charles_leclerc I didn't sing... carlossainz55 Yeah you shouldnt c2lovers FUCK??ABSHBHWWH

landonorris Can't believe people thought you broke up you literally won't shut up about how you're in Silverstone and she's in LA

pierregasly Don't forget the calling Y/N every 10 seconds charles_leclerc ??? Please shut up

Now Playing: Lover (Music Video) - The Dedication

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, landonorris, lorenzotl, and 2,109,294 others

charles_leclerc My forever lover.

tagged: yourusername

landonorris Will you save me a seat at every table?

yourusername Have my song memorized already, I see 😆 landonorris You know it!

lewishamilton Congratulations, Y/N and Charles! 🥂

danielricciardo I call taking most of the pictures 🙏

landonorris No???

ynlecs16 this is such a fucking surprise the two of you need to cool it down i'm hyperventilating

scuderiaferrari Best wishes to our favorite couple ❤️

yourusername Wait, I thought we broke up?

charles_leclerc Negative. You're stuck with me forever now 😘

---------

tagging: @slytherheign, @honethatty12, @siovhanroy

notes: taylor has got me wishing i was currently in love this is sick! anyway i only got this idea bc my tiktok fyp is swarmed with charles daylight edits and they are right he is so golden <33

[luxaofhesperides]

those who serve.

CHAPTER SEVEN: a wound.

previous chapter. full fic on ao3.

14k.... finish what ure doing first before u read this. this is ur only warning.

cw for this chapter: violence, injuries, nongraphic medical procedures

. . .

Danny gets one week to adjust to the reveal of the Wayne family’s night activities, on top of getting learning more and more each day to help Alfred. Then everything upends itself in the face of a gala taking place in the manor in ten days.

Most of the preparations have been taken care of by Alfred months in advance; renting out extra tables, chairs, and tablecloths, hiring catering, getting together press passes for attending reporters, and so much more. He kindly goes over each thing for Danny, reviewing the specifics of each group so Danny can have an idea of what to look for in the future. The amount of information he gets makes his head spin, and the prices of everything make him break out into a cold sweat.

Technically, Danny is joining the ranks of the rich with his new paycheck, but no amount of time will make him comfortable with such large numbers being attached to his bank account.

Ten days to the gala, Alfred shows Danny how to get blood out of white and light colored clothes. Tim, apparently, pulled some stitches after getting stabbed the night before, and bled through his shirt. 

Hydrogen peroxide is a life saver. It definitely would have been useful to have while he still lived in Amity Park.

He also discovers a love of ironing; watching the wrinkles in the fabric disappear is deeply satisfying in ways he can’t put to words. 

“I’d certainly be happy to pass on all ironing duties to you,” Alfred says, when Danny mentions this. “Just be careful not to burn yourself.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not that clumsy!” he replies, moving the iron across another shirt. Looking at Alfred, Danny miscalculates how far he’s moved the iron, and the edge of the hot metal touches his palm, pressing the shirt flat against the ironing board. He yelps, yanking his hand back, then gives Alfred a sheepish smile. “That doesn’t count.”

Alfred shakes his head with a fond smile, holding out a hand. “Let me see.”

Danny holds up his hand for Alfred to inspect. There’s no burn, barely any redness in the skin, but Danny draws some ice across the area anyways to keep Alfred from worrying.

“You could always iron using oven mitts,” Alfred suggests. “I believe we have some spare Batman themed ones in the kitchen.” His tone is so dry and even that it takes Danny a second to realize he’s joking.

“I would have accepted that if it wasn’t Batman themed,” he jokes back. “Anyone but him.”

“He’ll be heartbroken to hear that, I’m sure.”

Danny snickers and goes back to ironing, carefully keeping it away from his hand this time.

He’s not laughing when Alfred teaches him about formal suits that night, showing him each piece to the suit and how to properly wash, fold, and iron them, as well as how to put them on. And then he drops the bombshell of, “You’ll be getting your suit fitted tomorrow as well,” in the most casual tone possible for him.

Danny chokes on nothing and has to spend a minute clearing his throat before he can say, “Sorry, what did you just say?”

“You need to get fitted for a suit. Tomorrow. I have already made the appointment with a tailor I’ve worked with for many decades.”

“Cool, that’s what I thought you said. Is this required?”

“Yes, as you’ll be attending the gala as well. We are the two permanent members of the Wayne Manor staff. There will be eyes on us as we keep the event running smoothly, so it’s important to be well dressed.”

It makes sense when Alfred puts it like that, but Danny still has to smother his instinctive refusal. He’s only rented suits before for school dances, and those were never super comfortable. He avoids events that require suits, like formal conferences his parents are invited to, with an extended invite for family. Suits and wealth will always make him think first of Vlad. 

Maybe in time, he’ll associate those things more with the Waynes, but for now, Vlad is the face that comes to mind and Danny has to shove away the urge to run and hide.

“Not to worry,” Alfred adds, as Danny struggles to smooth out his expression from the pained grimace it twisted into, “You will not be going to this appointment alone.”

That’s not the part that Danny’s concerned about, but he still appreciates it. He’s definitely not ready to be alone in the city again, considering how his first time out with the Waynes ended with a hostage situation and a mall full of violent gangsters.

There’s not much anyone here can do for his own hangups, especially when they originate in another dimension. 

So Danny pastes on an unconvincing smile and gets back to work.

Nine days before the gala, Danny finds himself in a car with Bruce and Cass. Alfred had offered to drive them, but Bruce grabbed the keys before anyone else could and cheerily waved Alfred away. He was then told to not get another speeding ticket and to try to be a good role model for Danny.

Danny, whose only good role model is Jazz, looked away nonchalantly and acted like he didn’t hear that. 

It’s not like he needs good role models anyways. He’s doing just fine on his own!

Alfred doesn’t count because Alfred isn’t a role model as much as he’s an ideal Danny is striving for. Alfred is who Danny wants to be when he grows up. Now that he has a chance to grow up (relatively) safe, that is.

Cass had snickered at the three of them, then bodily shoved Danny into the backseat before climbing in after him.

Now, they’re going down the streets of Gotham, driving over a bridge, through neighborhoods, through run down districts that slowly get bigger and cleaner and visibly more suited for people with money. Bruce doesn’t drive recklessly, thankfully, despite Alfred’s warnings. 

Even so, Danny still clings to the car door, ready to throw himself out at a moment’s notice. He’s learned to bail quickly with his parents’ dangerous driving. 

“You alright back there?” Bruce asks, meeting Danny’s eyes briefly in the rearview mirror.

“Yep!” Danny chokes out. “Doing great!”

He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to regulate his breathing, counting slowly in an attempt to settle the wild beating of his heart. 

He wasn’t this bad in cars before. Even with his parents. He’s not sure what changed, but being in Gotham, after everything that’s happened, makes the small space of a car feel suffocating. The rocking of the car as it goes down bumpy roads would have once lulled him to sleep, but now makes his stomach roll and his chest go tight with panic. None of this is made better by having two observant and dangerous people watching his every reaction, no matter how small.

The radio is playing softly, simple background noise as Bruce drives them through Gotham. Danny tries to pay attention to it, to listen to the songs that come on, but his focus is completely shot. The noise keeps fading in and out of his ears.

“It’s okay,” Cass says softly. Her fingers skate over the back of his hand, making him jump. He blinks his eyes open to look at her. 

At some point, she’s taken off her seatbelt. Which isn’t safe! She needs to put it back on! 

Danny’s gone through the lessons and powerpoints back in Amity Park, when teachers tried to make sure he and his sister would be better drivers than their parents. Seatbelts help prevent severe injuries in car crashes, and there’s a reason they’re required by law.

Weakly, he shoves her back against the seat. Then he leans forward to reach past her, taking hold of the discarded seatbelt, and fastening it around her again.

“Keep that on,” he says around a gasp, his breath catching in his chest. His voice sounds weak and thready even to his ears, which means its bound to be even more concerning to her and Bruce.

“Do you need me to pull over?” Bruce asks, glancing back at him. “If you’re feeling sick, I can stop until you feel better.”

“No, just keep driving. The sooner we get to wherever it is we’re going, the better.”

Cass is frowning at him when he looks at her, ensuring the seatbelt is still on. “Why?” she asks, pointing at him.

That’s such a vague question! What is he supposed to answer! 

‘Why is he like this?’ ‘Why is he worked up about a seatbelt?’ ‘Why is he a mess?’

The answer to all those questions are the same: he doesn’t know!

The most he can do is offer Cass a weak shrug, so that’s what he does. Cass squints her eyes at him, then grabs his hands and lifts them up to start a clumsy game of patty cake. It quickly becomes apparent that she doesn’t actually know how to play patty cake and is instead clapping their hands together randomly with a look of confusion on her face, so Danny takes over, humming the song under his breath.

It helps distract him from the unreasonable panic of being trapped inside a car. That was probably her intention, but Cass is so focused on keeping up with their steadily quickening game of patty cake that it doesn’t feel like he’s being coddled. It just feels like this is normal, like they’re two kids passing time on a car ride.

Like they could be anyone else. People who are safe. People who haven’t been so hurt.

It’s almost a surprise when the car comes to a stop, Bruce smoothly pulling into a parking space with a reserved sign in front of it.

Danny opens his mouth to ask if it’s really alright that they park there, but can’t say a word before Cass smacks his hands down. When he looks at her, she rubs her fingers together in the universal sign for money and gives him an impish grin.

That’s right, Bruce is rich enough that he can get away with anything. Who cares who that reserved sign is for? Bruce can just buy them a new parking lot. 

That won’t stop the whole thing from leaving a bad taste in his mouth, but at least it’ll be easier to ignore.

Cass hops out the car and skips around the open the door on his side, holding out a hand to help him out. 

He takes it and lets her yank him out of the car. She doesn’t bother waiting for Bruce before dragging Danny into a fancy looking store, the outside all black brick and large, reflective windows. He doesn’t get a chance to see the name of the store, pulled in too fast by Cass’s enthusiasm.

She all but throws open the door, the bell above them ringing merrily, and leads him inside. The dark wood floor and fancy lights immediately make Danny feel out of place. The racks of fancy clothing on display and the mannequins all dressed up in suits of various dark colors only make him feel more like he doesn’t belong in there. 

“Hello, hello, welcome!” calls out an employee. She wears a dark green apron with a notepad tucked into the front pocket and a pin cushion on her wrist. “Are you just browsing today, or do you have an appointment?”

“We have an appointment for Danny,” Bruce answers, somehow appearing behind them. Danny squeezes Cass’s hand to hold back his flinch; he’d really love if the man would make some noise when he moves. 

Did the bell over the door even ring when Bruce came in?

“Great! Follow me, I’ll get you into a fitting room and then let Mr. Brownstein know you’re here.” She leads them through a door near the back of the store, leading to a short hallway with three numbered doors in them. 

They’re given room one, which looks more like a lounge than a fitting room. Beyond the couch and armchairs is a round platform with floor length mirrors surrounding it on three sides. Past that is an area that looks like a large dressing room with only a curtain to separate it from the rest of the room. 

Bruce wastes no time in sitting down on the couch with a low grunt. Apparently not even vigilantism and constant training can save him from old man joints. 

Cass lets go of Danny’s hand to flit around the room, then grabs a few magazines and sits next to Bruce, flipping through them quickly. 

Left on his own, Danny stands near the door awkwardly before he forces himself to join them, sitting on one of the armchairs to keep some space between them. 

“How are you feeling?” Bruce asks as soon as Danny’s gotten comfortable.

Danny shrugs. “Fine. Just… not used to this.” He gestures vaguely to everything around them and Bruce nods as if this makes sense.

“I understand that this can be a lot,” he says, “But we’ll do all we can to make things go smoothly for you.”

“Will be normal… time?” Cass adds, looking to Bruce for help.

She signs something and Bruce helpfully supplies, “Eventually.”

“Yes! Even-tu-ally.”

“I don’t know if anyone ever gets used to this. The being rich thing and your hobbies.”

“Plenty of us in the know have had to adjust to this life, you’re not alone in that.”

Danny squints at Bruce. “I highly doubt any of you were normal before doing what you do.”

Bruce opens his mouth to refute that, thinks about it, then closes his mouth and slowly nods. “That is a fair point. What’s normal for Gotham is hardly normal for anyone else.”

“No, no, this is not a Gotham specific thing. This is a Wayne and associates specific thing.”

“You are in that,” Cass says. “Not normal.”

“I think I’ve made it very clear that I am not normal. But I wasn’t insanely rich! That changes things!”

“No,” Cass says firmly, agreeing. “Not normal. Better that way.”

A knock on the door sounds through the room before they can get into it anymore. The door opens just a second later and an old man with heavyset wrinkles, white hair, and a fancy looking black cane with the handle done in gold, enters with a smile.

“Ah, Mr. Wayne, how lovely to see you again.” He’s got the same accent as Alfred, the same even, unflappable tone.

“Davey!” Bruce stands with a grin, his voice turning loud and energetic. It’s such a change from how Danny’s used to seeing him that he can’t do anything but stare at the man in shock. Bruce shakes Davey’s hand in big up and down sweeps, full of cheer.

Gone is the calm, steady, intimidating presence Danny is used to. In its place is some guy with a good attitude and not much else in his head.

“So good to see you again,” Bruce continues, dropping the handshake in favor of patting him on the back. 

“I do hope you haven’t wrecked any of your suits recently. I was hoping to go more than a few months between tailoring new suits for you.”

“Then I’m sure you’ll be happy to know all my suits are in perfect condition! We’re here for someone new, anyways.” 

Taking his cue, Danny stands up and gives a small wave. “Hi,” he says rather weakly.

Davey lights up, striding across the room to take Danny’s hand in his, giving it a vigorous shake. “You must be the boy Alfred’s taken in! Such a pleasure to meet you lad, I’ve heard only good things about you.”

“You know Alfred?”

“Know him? I grew up in the same neighborhood as him in England, and he’s the one who helped me set up shop here in Gotham back in the 80s. I’ve gotten ahead of myself.” He shakes his head and steps back, giving Danny some breathing room. “David Brownstein, at your service.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Brownstein. I’m Danny.”

“Call me David. Any friend of Alfred is a friend of mine. Now, I hear you’re in need of a suit?”

“Yeah, there’s a gala soon and I don’t have anything formal or like… professional to wear to it.”

“Make him pretty!” Cass demands, clapping her hands together in delight. 

David nods to her. “I intend to, Miss Cassandra. Let’s begin, shall we?”

In no time at all, Danny is standing on the round platform in a black suit, trying his best to be as still as possible. He’s stopped breathing completely so he doesn’t accidentally disturb David where he’s pinning his left pant leg to better fit him. The fabric is soft and smooth, higher quality than literally anything else he’s ever worn in his life. 

When he glances into one of the many mirrors around him, he has to admit that he looks good.

To be fair, though, everyone looks good in a suit. 

It’s just so far beyond his normal that it feels like he’s looking at someone else in the mirror. To think that just a few weeks ago, he as a homeless teenager living on the streets with only the clothes on his back. Now he’s getting fitted for a designer suit that probably costs more than his entire college fund.

Bruce left the room at some point and Danny has no idea where he could be. Cass is still around, though she disappears every so often, then pops back in wearing a beautiful dress that she presents to him for his opinion.

Danny gives her a thumbs up every time while also trying to keep his arms still. 

Near the end of his appointment, she walks into the room with a bunch of silk ties in different colors and patterns draped over one arm. She holds up each one in front of her face, looks between the ties and Danny, then either tosses them onto the couch or puts them back on her arm. The ones she keeps on her arms, she yanks at each one, then wraps them around her neck and tries to choke herself with them.

This, apparently, is part of the selection process, and she tosses a few more to the couch. 

He’s… not sure he wants to know why she’s considering which tie would be best to strangle someone with. That’s not a problem Danny has to deal with. It’s not in his job description.

Bruce conveniently reappears once Danny carefully changes back out of the suit. The thought of trying not to disturb the pins or chalk lines is so stressful that Danny just phased out of them once the curtain was drawn, so they’re all as untouched as they can be. 

He passes the suit to David, who leaves quickly with a goodbye tossed over his shoulder to the three of them. Cass hands three ties to Bruce, who stops by the register to get them paid for and packed up before they leave the store. 

They head back to the manor soon after. Danny’s grateful to be done, even as he spends the entire drive with his head between his knees, trying to pretend he’s anywhere else.

“How was it?” Alfred asks once Danny’s joined him in the kitchen to help with dinner. 

“Fine. David was nice. Also, I’m not sure if Cass wants to strangle me or not.”

“She’s like that sometimes,” Alfred says, then smoothly pivots the conversation into a new direction and they both silently decide to move on and pretend everything’s fine.

Eight days before the gala, Damian pops up while Danny’s removing dead leaves from the indoor plants. He hovers over Danny’s shoulder completely silent while Danny works, unaware, until Damian says, “Stop what you’re doing.”

“Shit!” Danny jumps, throwing dead leaves into the air, and goes intangible. His feet sink into the floor before he catches himself and flies up, floating in the air with a hand on his chest to keep his half-dead heart from escaping.

Damian stares at him, unimpressed. He looks at the dead leaves on the ground, then at Danny, and sighs.

“What?” Danny says, flustered. “You scared me! Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

“It’s hardly my fault you lack awareness of your surroundings.”

“Yeah, whatever. Did you need something?” Danny floats back down to the floor, tangible once again, and kneels down to clean up his mess.

After a moment of brief hesitation, Damian joins him, carefully gathering up the dead leaves closest to him.

Any annoyance Danny has at being scared like that fizzles away instantly with that little gesture. 

Damian is blunt and full of jagged edges, but he’s not unkind. 

“Has anyone shown you the emergency supply caches or escapes routes?”

Danny vaguely recalls Damian mentioning the caches but nothing else. And Danny hasn’t exactly been going out of his way to spend time with anyone but Alfred, who is busy enough teaching him how to handle all his new butler duties. 

He shakes his head, gathering up the very last leaves, the smallest of the bunch, then stands up. Damian follows suit with a disapproving click of his tongue. “I suppose I will have to do it then. Come, let us begin.”

“Woah, wait, we gotta throw these away first!” Danny tries to take the bundle of dead leaves in Damian’s hands from him, but he turns, keeping his hands out of reach with a scowl.

“Fine. You don’t need to do it for me. I’m not incapable of basic tasks.”

That was not at all what he meant by that, but okay! Danny decides to move on from that and dumps the dead leaves into the small trash bag he’s been carrying around for this task. Then he holds it out for Damian to do the same. 

Having taken care of that, Danny has no more excuses and is quickly taken on a trip around the Manor with Damian, who points out all the hidden emergency caches. 

There are so many. If Danny didn’t know about they’re vigilante activities, he would have been convinced that the Waynes were secretly doomsday preppers. 

Some are hidden in panels in the walls. Others beneath floorboards. Some behind large paintings. 

“You must carefully memorize which paintings are emergency caches. There are some paintings within the Manor that lead to secret passageways or panic rooms,” Damian says. 

“How the hell did this place get built that you guys have so many secret, hidden things in it?”

“Very carefully.”

Damian puts a hand on a panel in the wall in the next hallway and pushes against it. The wood falls back and opens silently, revealing a small space with a first aid kit, six gas masks of various sizes, and three tasers. Danny carefully takes note of the location and tries to memorize a few details around the cache so he can find it again later. 

They go through the entire manor, even unused rooms and halls, the attic, and areas that the Wayne family allows outsiders to access when they open their doors. 

Escape routes follow next, but take much less time when Danny reminds Damian that he can just fly out of the Manor whenever he wants. Danny himself is an escape route. Still, he memorizes some that go from the ballroom to the back of the manor in case he needs to evacuate people. 

“Now,” Damian says as they come to a stop in front of the grand staircase in the foyer, “Walk to every emergency cache you can remember.”

“Oh, come on,” Danny groans. “There’s no way I’m going to remember any correctly.”

“Which is why we’re doing this. If we put it off, then you won’t learn until it’s far too late.”

That doesn’t sound too bad, since Danny’s been learning on the fly since the Accident. Half the reason he managed to do what he did as Phantom was because he had no choice but to learn as he went, thrown into fights he wasn’t prepared for. It’s never gone too badly before, and he’s always been able to get out of things relatively fine. 

Then again, Gotham is much more dangerous than Amity Park. It’s not ghosts that are causing the problems here, but living people who have no qualms about killing. Danny rarely ever had to hold back his strength with ghosts; they were already dead, they could take a hit.

But here?

If Danny isn’t careful, he could kill people here. Even if he doesn’t mean too. 

He remembers how strong he felt when stopping that mugger from hurting Alfred. How fragile and small the gangster who attacked him and Dick in the mall felt trapped beneath his foot. 

In Amity Park, Danny was just another ghost.

Here in Gotham, Danny is a monster. 

Damian’s right. It’s better he be prepared so he can act more carefully, have more options at his disposal instead of just working off panicked instinct.

“Alright,” he sighs. “Just don’t be too upset when I can’t find more than one.”

Damian stares him down with hard, serious eyes, but something about the downturn of his lips makes him look more awkward than intimidating. “You are a civilian who has only just begun to learn everything about the Manor. I’m not expecting much from you.”

The words, by themselves, are harsh, but Danny can hear what he really means: You don’t have to get it perfect, you just need to know enough to be safe.

“Okay. Should we start from here?”

Damian nods, and so the roles reverse and Danny leads them around the Manor, trying to remember as many emergency cache locations as possible. He gets more than he expected, around seven correctly and six more with some hesitation and poking around in areas he knows something is hidden, but he’s not 100% sure where.

He expects that to be the end of it, but Damian just nods thoughtfully and takes the lead again, showing Danny all the caches he missed. It takes up the rest of the day, but Alfred didn’t mind when he rushed to the kitchen afterwards to help finish dinner.

The next five days are spent deep cleaning the Manor, mostly in areas where there will be high traffic, and making sure anything Bat related or generally suspicious is hidden away. He doesn’t see the Waynes much at all outside of meals, and even then it’s only Bruce, Damian, and Cass that show up regularly. Everyone else appears at random, no rhyme or reason as to when they decide to sit down to eat with the rest of the family. 

He overhears stern reminders to be careful on patrols, for the Waynes joining Bruce to make sure their clothes are ready and any needed cover stories are made and memorized. The others tease the poor souls forced to host the gala with Bruce, flaunting the fact that they get to go out and patrol like normal instead of pandering to the crowd of deeply annoying elite folk. 

None of what they say make Danny feel any better about having to work the gala.

He tries to channel his nerves into work, always finding something to do in order to keep his mind from wondering about all the things that could go wrong at the gala and spiraling. The giant crystal chandelier in the ballroom is sparkling from how thoroughly Danny’s cleaned it. 

Alfred handles all the logistical tasks, smoothing out last minute hiccups and answering questions from caterers and hired security. The ease with which he works through things has Danny in awe, hoping to one day be as capable as he is. 

Two days before the gala, his suit is delivered to the Manor. Cass somehow gets a hold of it first and ambushes Danny as he walks into the kitchen, holding a basket full of bell peppers and tomatoes. 

“Your suit!” she announces, suddenly in his face as he turns around from closing the door. One of her hands darts out and holds the basket up from the bottom, keeping any of his garden harvest from falling onto the floor as Danny freezes and tries not to jump back and bang his head into the door.

Once she’s sure he’s got his balance back, Cass steps back, presents his suit on a hanger to him, and says again, “Your suit.”

“Thanks, Cass. This couldn’t wait until I wasn’t holding stuff?”

“Nope. Go put it on!”

She smoothly takes the basket from his hands and replaces it with the suit. Then she uses her shoulder to push Danny away from the door and out of the kitchen, ending with a light, playful kick to his back.

Well. He’s no longer making spaghetti, apparently. 

With nothing else to do and no reason to deny Cass, Danny heads off to his room to get changed. He doesn’t quite remember all of Alfred’s instructions on how to put on a suit properly, so he has to look it up on his phone. It’s a long process to lay out the suit in all its pieces and then put them on in order, looking between his phone and the mirror to make sure he’s doing it right.

The only thing he doesn’t have is some sort of necktie. He’s pretty sure butlers wear little black bowties, but that could just be a movie thing. He’s pretty sure it’s what James Bond wears, anyways, which isn’t quite the look he’s going for. 

Once he’s got the suit on as well as he can manage, Danny takes a look at himself in the mirror.

He’s still pretty thin despite his appetite growing and his stomach being able to handle larger, richer meals. There’s a paleness to his skin that will probably always be there, making him look washed out and slightly drowned. His hair is a mess, as it always is, but in the suit, it looks more like a style choice than a consequence of his refusal to touch a hair brush in the mornings when he makes breakfast for himself and Alfred. 

He doesn’t look half bad. 

And the suit is fitted to him perfectly. Nothing is too tight or too loose. Everything falls where it should comfortably. 

Satisfied with his efforts to dress himself properly, Danny gets back to the kitchen to let Cass see him. It’s easier to fly through the walls than make his way down the winding hallways, so that’s what he does, passing by a startled Tim who must have just come up from the Batcave. 

Cass is sitting on the counter when he returns, kicking out her legs idly. She lights up when she spots him and claps her hands together in delight. “Nice!” she says, giving him a thumbs up.

“Thanks. I don’t have a tie or anything, so it’s not really a complete look.”

“We got ties,” she says.

“Uh, when?”

She waves a hand vaguely. “At the store. With your suit.”

Well. Bruce did buy some ties, but Danny hasn’t seen them since so he assumed they weren’t for him. For all he knows, they’re for Cass. She was the one checking them to see how well they could strangle people. He’s not really sure he wants those ties, if they’re going to be used as improvised weapons.

“I didn’t know any of those were mine. I definitely haven’t seen them since we got back.”

“Oh. I forgot.” Cass hops off the counter and says, “Stay here!” Then she’s gone, disappearing back into the depths of the manor.

“Sure, I guess,” Danny replies to no one. He stares forlornly at the basket of bell peppers and tomatoes on the counter. He would get started on the sauce if he could, but he doesn’t trust himself to keep his new and expensive suit clean while he cooks, so all he can do is look longingly at the work he should be doing.

He doesn’t wait as long as he expected to. Cass must have made use of those hidden passageways scattered all along the Manor to get back to him so quickly, three ties in hand. Or she’s just fast. One or the other.

“Here!” she says, presenting them to him. 

Danny looks them over, reaching out to feel them. They must be made of silk for how soft and smooth they are. 

One of the ties is a deep blue color with gold thread providing some embellishments. Another is a simple red, one solid color. 

It’s the last tie that holds Danny’s attention. Black with silver thread stars and planets and celestial bodies, carefully placed on the length of the tie. He’s never thought much about ties, much less about their designs, but he’s obsessed with this one. It’s perfect for him.

Cass must clock his interest in the last tie. She tosses the other two over her shoulder, then reaches out to flip his collar up. The tie goes around his neck and she ties it loosely, clearly unsure of how to properly tie it, but doing her best anyways.

Once done, she looks it over before she nods, satisfied. “Good.”

Danny looks down to lift up one lopsided end of the knot she’s made with the tie. “Thanks, Cass. This one’s great. Can I ask why you tested these three for strangling capabilities?”

She shakes her head. “Not for harming,” she explains. 

“Uh… strangling is very harmful. And that’s definitely what it looked like to me.”

She shakes her head again, stronger. With one hand, she takes one of the ties on her shoulder and loops it around her neck. “Picked the ones that won’t be bad. Hard to hurt with these. Try.” And Cass offers one end of her makeshift tie noose to Danny.

He stares. “No, thanks.”

“I’ll do it then.”

“Don’t!”

Cass grins at him, all teeth and challenge. “Stop me.”

And she yanks with all her strength, harder than she did at the tailor’s, genuinely trying to strangle herself with this silk tie. Danny chokes on his breath and scrambles to stop her, grabbing her wrist and struggling to pry the tie out of her fist. She doesn’t let him stop her, pulling harder, her grip iron and unmovable.

Danny, in a moment of panic, shoves his fingers between the tie and her throat, creating space, then makes the tie go intangible, finally freeing it from her grasp. 

“Please,” he begs, “Do not try to kill yourself in front of me.”

“Woah, what?” Tim asks, having chosen the absolute worst time to walk into the kitchen.

Cass waves at him. “Testing,” she says, pointing at the tie, the wraps her hands around her neck and mimes being strangled to death.

“Oh. I see.” Based on the way Tim is blinking at them, befuddled, he definitely doesn’t see. “Why silk ties? Those are the worst for strangulation. They slip too much.”

Danny stares down at the tie he liberated from Cass’s grasp. Slowly, he wraps on end around his wrist, ties it off, then pulls with what’s left of the tail. 

Sure enough, the tie slips along his wrist and against itself. It still pulls tight, but not as strongly as he thought it would.

So this is what Cass meant when she said these were safe. The ties she chose must be what she decided were least capable of strangling him.

It’s actually kind of sweet that she went out of her way to find something specifically so it wouldn’t be used to hurt him too much. As strange as the whole process was, he can’t deny that he’s touched by the effort she put into this.

“Unless that’s the point,” Tim continues, looking between the two of them. “Nice suit, Danny, you look great. Have you figured out where to hide weapons in it yet?”

“What? Why would I do that?”

“In case you get attacked. Always a risk at galas.”

“Are the rich people going to attack me or something?”

“No, no! Probably. But that many rich people in once place, especially in Wayne Manor, makes the gala a huge target for anyone wanting to rob us or take someone for ransom. But maybe be wary of the rich people too, there’s some really creepy old guys that are somehow still kicking.”

“Great,” Danny says weakly, “That’s exactly what I want to hear.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll be able to keep you safe. So, weapons?”

“I don’t think I need any. I have powers, remember?”

“And you can fight with them?” Tim presses.

“Fighting’s all I’ve ever really done with them, so yes.”

“I’ll take your word for it then. But remember, plenty of us will be there in case anything goes wrong, and we’ll have plenty of security around. I’m sure the gala will go fine.”

Cass points an accusing finger at Tim. “Jinx!”

He winces. “Ah. Yeah, I probably shouldn’t have said that. My bad.”

“Well, as long as I don’t have to fight rich people,” Danny tries to joke, only to blanch when Tim moves his hand in a ‘maybe-so’ back and forth motion. “I don’t have to fight rich people, right? I thought we already agreed on that!”

“You probably don’t have to fight rich people,” Tim corrects, “But there was a cult situation years ago. Like, when I was in elementary school, but B took care of it so it’s not a problem anymore. Not that it would stop them from making more cults, but we haven’t seen any recently. So.”

Danny stares at him, a little horrified. “Man, what the hell is Gotham?”

Tim and Cass snicker, as if this isn’t the reality they grew up in. “Don’t worry,” Tim says, “You’ll get used to it soon enough.”

“Ancients help me when that day comes,” Danny mutters.

He leaves them to steal snacks from the kitchen as he changes back out of the suit and is graced with their company as he makes two pots worth of spaghetti, smacking their hands with a wooden spoon when they try to sneak a taste of the sauce. 

And then, suddenly, the day of the gala of here. Danny can only hope it doesn’t end too terribly.

. . .

“The first guests will likely arrive around seven in the evening,” Alfred says as they make their final rounds to ensure the ballrooms and sitting rooms are all ready for the elite of Gotham. “Preparations will begin at noon. Security will arrive first. They have all received instructions onto where they should be. Be on the look out for anyone going to places closed to the private; we have had many people in the past be bribed to steal from us while had them employed for an event.”

“What should I do if I do find someone out of place?”

“First, try to escort them back to where they should be. If they resist, then do whatever you deem necessary.”

“And when you say ‘anything necessary,’ does that include…”

Alfred stops to look Danny directly in the eyes as he firmly says, “Anything.” And then continues walking as if that didn’t just happen. Danny hurries to follow, putting into practice his newest, most important skill of moving right on past that shit.

“Tables and chairs for the ballroom will arrive at one. I’ve printed out the layout they need to be placed in. The rental company has a copy of these instructions, so all you need to do is oversee the set up. Catering will arrive at five to set up, cook, and have food out and ready for guests.”

“Do I have to greet any of the guests?”

“Not at all. Master Bruce has that responsibility. I will be taking care of coats and bags for guests. I will need you to direct cars to the drop off point in front of the ballroom entrance.”

“Everyone’s being dropped off?”

“That is correct. You don’t need to worry about arranging rides for anyone, as that is something they have to do themselves.”

Okay. Cool. It’s still stressful, still a lot that Danny has to be in charge of, but it’s not as overwhelming as he thought it would be. Alfred hasn’t given him too much to do, and all of it is easy enough for him to take care of with his current skill levels. As long as no guests come up to him demanding he do stuff for them, he should be fine.

They split up after they leave the ballroom to put up the velvet ropes that will hopefully keep people from wandering into places they aren’t allowed to be. From what he’s heard, it shouldn’t be a problem except with particularly drunk guests. The Wayne family is big and important in Gotham, enough so that any and all guests will be careful to be respectful while attending the gala. 

Danny double checks the list he was given of where to place the rope barriers, double checking that he got all of them. 

After that, it’s a flurry of tasks to be completed, last minute details to fix, and preparing lunch for everyone so no one goes hungry until the gala begins.

In no time at all, security arrives and Danny is tasked with directing them to their positions, helping them review their routes to keep the venue safe. It’s off putting to be the one listened to when he’s so much younger than everyone, but none of the hired security guards act like anything’s out of the ordinary while with him. It’s probably just in his own head, but it still feels wrong.

Tables and chairs arrive after that, and Danny helps them get to where they need to be placed. He helps with moving some of the tables as well, putting his enhanced strength to good use so the other workers don’t have to struggle so much. Tablecloths are set out, carefully smoothed of wrinkles. Floral centerpieces follow.

There’s only one near miss with two workers crashing into each other and the centerpiece—with its glass vase—goes flying amid the horrified gasps of the others. Danny had just managed to catch it in time, moving on instinct honed from years of ghost fights.

The relief on everyone’s faces helped him feel more at ease working with them.

By the time they’re done and everything is where it should be, properly put together, the catering arrives, bringing with them another flurry of movement and energy.

Danny lets himself get swept up in it, helping where he can. He almost doesn’t notice how late it’s gotten until Alfred appears at the entrance to the ballroom and looks at him expectantly. 

Everything is as set up as it could be. The rest of the staff are now to act as waiters, basically, carting around drinks and finger foods for the elite. Danny will just get underfoot if he stays.

He leaves with a quick goodbye and is waved off by more people than he expected. 

Alfred falls into step with him as they make their way to the servant’s quarters to get changed into the gala suits. Before they part ways to go into their own rooms, Alfred gently claps a hand against Danny’s back.

“Well done,” he says warmly when Danny looks at him. He looks proud of Danny, so proud that it makes Danny’s eyes well up with tears he hurries to dash away. 

“Thanks!” he returns with a bright smile, and ducks into his room to try to get his emotions under control before he has to meet a bunch of rich people with red eyes and tear tracks on his face.

To think he can be undone so easily with just two words.

Jazz would probably have a whole lot to say about that. He misses her psychoanalyzing annoying big sister attitude so badly it hurts, a wound that will never heal. He hopes she’s doing alright wherever she is now. He’s ruined enough of her life, he’d like it if his disappearance doesn’t hurt her too much.

Taking in a deep breath, Danny shoves away all thoughts of home and family. He needs to focus. He’s here to do a job. He needs to make sure the gala goes smoothly.

Step one of that plan is to put on his suit and fix his hair so he looks more put together and less on the verge of an emotional breakdown.

He completes step one more or less successful. The only thing he can’t do is knot his tie nicely, and no video tutorials he watches really helps. With the time limit he’s on, Danny just gives up and decides to ask Alfred for help.

Alfred is already in the hallway waiting for him when Danny opens his door. He holds up his tie with a sheepish smile. “So, I don’t actually know what to do with this…?”

Alfred’s eyes soften and he waves Danny over. “Allow me.” 

He takes the tie from Danny’s hands and flips up his collar. With clean, precise movements, he has the tie around Danny’s neck and neatly knotted into what is probably a fancy shape that Danny will never be able to recreate. Then his collar is smoothed down again by Alfred’s hands, which quickly move to straighten out the lapels of his suit. 

“There we are,” he says. “And look at you now: a proper butler of the Wayne family.”

A warmth settles deep in his chest. There’s joy, rising on strong wings, that sweeps through him. 

He’s still an apprentice.  He still has so much to learn. But tonight, he will go out as the future butler of the Wayne family. That is how this world will know him. Alfred has carved out a place in this foreign dimension just for him, and finally Danny feels like he can take it, settle in, finally belong here beyond just a charity case taken in from the streets.

“Are you ready to work your first official event?”

“I’m as ready as I’ll ever be,” Danny replies, standing taller. 

“I’m glad to hear it. And Danny, if you ever need a break, you can hide away in the kitchen for as long as you need. I’ll be sure to join you in there eventually.”

“Got it!” And then, softer, “Thanks, Alfred.”

“But of course, Danny. Tonight will be busy. It may even be overwhelming. But I will be there for you should you ever need me.”

Danny nods, biting his lip and squeezing his eyes shut so he doesn’t start crying. He had been doing so good too! But Alfred’s honest words always throw him off balance. 

He has no defense against Alfred’s kindness. That’s how he ended up here in the first place. Pulling himself together with nothing but stubbornness and sheer will power, Danny lets out a steady breath, then starts walking. Alfred joins him as they return to the ballroom and gives him one more pat on the back before splitting off to tend to his own gala duties.

Left alone in the ballroom, surrounded by the bustle of staff finishing up their last minute tasks, Danny takes in the glittering opulence of the place; this isn’t the warm, lived in Wayne Manor full of history and family and comfort. This is cold and sharp, all gold and bright lights, a stage for false personalities and masks to take the spotlight for the night.

A group of musicians in the back of the ballroom fill the air with the sound of strings and flutes as they tune their instruments and prepare to play for hours on end. 

Food is set up and serving stations all have someone behind them, standing with their hands behind their back as they wait for the first guests to trickle in.

It’s nearly seven. Danny hurries outside, ready to wave drivers towards him, directing them down the gravel path that branches off from the main driveway that goes to the front door of Wayne Manor. It takes barely a few minutes before he sees the first headlights make their way down the makeshift road. 

Danny waves a hand in the air and the driver stops right in front of him. An old couple dressed lavishly get out of the car and stand together, arm in arm.

“Oh, who’s this?” the old woman coos, looking at him. 

Danny gives her a tight smile. “Hello, and welcome! I’m Danny, the apprentice butler to the Wayne family.”

“How darling,” she says, pressing a hand against her chest. “It’s been too long since I’ve met a young man like you learning the art of butling. Why, my own family had an apprentice back when I was in college, and he went off to serve a family in Spain that was closely related to the Spanish royal family.”

“That’s cool,” Danny replies, trying to hide how awkward he feels. “I think I’m going to stay with the Wayne family, though. I’m not that ambitious.”

“Waynes are close to royals in Gotham. They’re the most important family in the city. Why, I remember when Martha and Thomas were killed in Park Row. It was a dark day for us all…”

Woah, what? That’s the first time he’s heard of any murders happening in the Wayne family.

Some of his shock must shown on his face, as the old couple suddenly look more engage, more eager to talk to him.

“Why don’t you escort us in, son,” the old man says, “And we’ll tell you about it was we walk.” 

The couple begin to slowly walk to the Manor, slow with age though they still hold themselves tall. Danny falls in step with them and the man begins to weave a tale about a much younger Bruce Wayne and the parents who loved him so dearly, and how the sudden, tragic loss of them rocked the world.

Danny doubts he ever would have found out about this on his own. And he certainly won’t have known the impact the Waynes have had on Gotham. The fact that their lives and deaths mold the city is a heavy realization.

The couple keep him at the door to the ballroom for a few minutes to wrap up their story. Danny glances out over the grounds every so often to make sure there aren’t any headlights in the distance coming his way until they thank him for the escort and go inside, leaving him to wait for more guests.

He never really thought about why the Waynes go out each night as vigilantes. It’s dangerous, thankless work and no one would do it without a reason.

He can see, suddenly, a young Bruce, just a child, suddenly lost and adrift in a world that murdered his parents. He can see that child decide to fight back in any way he can. He can see Batman rise from the heart of that child and swear to prevent anyone else from experiencing the pain he had to survive. 

And he can see Alfred standing behind that boy, carrying his own grief as he takes care of a child who grows up ready to throw his life away for a cause far greater than himself. 

How they can bear it?

Danny is both the one who left and the one left behind, running from his parents just as they turned their backs on him, and it destroyed him. He’s only just now building himself back up again, feeling more stable and steady despite the hole in his heart that will never close. At least he got the privilege of starting fresh in this dimension. Bruce and Alfred had to grow around the loss that is embedded into the city.

He really doesn’t know much about them, he realizes. This is the first time he’s really considered their histories. 

Maybe Alfred will be willing to talk to him about it later. 

With those thoughts heavy on his mind, it’s hard from him to be fully focused as he directs cars to stop before him one by one. More guests in fancy suits and elegant dresses step out and walk into the ballroom, only a few bothering to greet him as they go. His mind keeps drifting as he pastes on a smile and waves to drivers as they leave.

He stays outside for another hour before the last of the cars leave. The gala is in full swing when he ducks inside, sticking to the walls as Gotham’s richest mingle together in the ballroom. The low murmur of voices fill the air alongside the music, high strings playing a soft melody to fill the background as people wander around with glasses of champagne in hand, nibbling on finger foods.

Bruce is the center of attention, smiling jovially in a dark blue suit, the first two buttons of his silk shirt undone. 

It’s hard to see him as a once grieving child, full of rage and determination, ready to take on the world. Bruce as he is now looks like a perfect socialite, surrounded by a small crowd of people all vying for his attention as he talks loudly, gesturing with broad movements, keeping their attention. 

Tim is hanging off to the side near the musician, talking to a small group of people his age. They all look more relaxed and down to earth than any of the older people, so perhaps there’s hope for the next generation of Gotham’s high society.

Danny wanders a bit to make sure everything’s going well, checking in with the other staff members to see if there’s anything he can help with. But they have everything under control, so he can do nothing but try not to mess with the sleeves of his suit as he keeps circling the ballroom.

On his third circuit, Tim breaks away from his group and weaves around other guests to smoothly reach him.

“Is Damian here?” he asks, eyes darting around the ballroom.

Danny frowns. “I haven’t seen him. Did he come in with you?”

“He did, and then he left us as soon as we had greeted most of the guests. He’s supposed to stay out here for a few more hours, and I told him to just stick with me.”

“Where do you think he’s gone?”

Tim sighs, lowering his voice a bit. “He could be anywhere, honestly. He hates galas, which I get, but we needed him here because he’s Bruce’s bio kid. At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if Damian went downstairs to get away.”

If Damian ditched the gala to go punch criminals, that would be bad, to say the least.

“I’ll go look for him,” Danny says. “Don’t worry, I’m sure I can get him back up here.”

“Thanks, Danny. I gotta get back to it. Also,” Tim adds in a whisper, “Don’t worry if Bruce seems like a different person or super drunk. He’s really good at acting.”

“Okay…?” 

Danny’s not really sure what that has to do with him, but he appreciates the heads up anyways. He’s been excusing all of Bruce’s weirdness as either ‘Batman-related’ or ‘none of his business’, so he’s fine ignoring whatever Bruce gets up to tonight as well.

Now that he has a task to complete, Danny gladly leaves the ballroom to find Damian. 

He starts off checking the sitting rooms, which already have a few of the guests lounging in, drinking wine and gossiping. The other areas that guests can access are all Damian-free, which is about what he expected. 

Danny moves on past the rope barriers, nodding to some of the security guards walk by on their patrol, ensuring no guests, invited or otherwise, go deeper into the Manor. 

The kitchen is empty. As are the living rooms on the ground floor. 

Maybe Damian’s in his bedroom? Or his art studio. Those are the only two other places Danny would think to find Damian that’s not the Batcave. 

He just really doesn’t want to go down there again. Especially not on his own.

Just as he reaches the top of the stairs to the second floor, Danny sees someone walking down the hall. It’s not Damian, far too tall to be a teenage boy, and they’re moving slowly, looking around as if searching for something.

“Hey!” Danny calls out to them, striding towards them quickly. “You’re not supposed to be up here.”

They turn, and Danny recognizes the uniform for the security guards that are meant to be at their positions around the ballroom. This man has taken off his jacket, leaving him in a simple button down shirt and dark pants, a gun tucked into a hostler by his hip. 

“Oh, sorry, I thought I heard something up here and went to check it out.”

“This is pretty far from the ballroom. It would be hard to hear anything here from where you were supposed to be. Wanna try that one again?”

The easygoing smile on the guard’s face disappears, replaced by a dark scowl and a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Listen kid, this will be easier for all of us if you just walk away now. Don’t make me do anything you’ll regret.” He puts his hand on the holster. The threat is clear.

But Danny’s had guns pointed at him from years. He’s dodged shots from his own parents. One guy isn’t going to scare him.

“It would be easier if you just went back to you post and did the job you were paid to do.”

“Oh, trust me, I’m doing exactly what I was paid to do.” He grins, sharp and mean, and pulls out his gun.

Okay! Great!

Danny’s not nice anymore. And Alfred already gave him permission to do anything he deems necessary.

In a blink, Danny’s closed the distance between them and tosses the man over his shoulder. He kicks the gun out of his hand and is about to try to flip him over so he can put the guard in a shoulder pin, but a knee slams into his stomach, knocking the breath out of him.

Danny wheezes and is kicked back, stumbling to keep his balance. The guard rises to his feet and lunges forward, throwing a straight punch. It’s easy enough to dodge it, ducking to the side and stepping closer to try to knock the guard down again, but he pulls his arm back a bit, bends it, and slams his elbow into Danny’s face.

Pain races through his skull as he falls back, hands flying up to his nose. It’s probably broken, already gushing blood, and it stains his teeth as he bares them in a snarl and grabs hold of his ghost powers.

Teeth sharpen into fangs. His eyesight gets sharper, the iron taste of blood stronger in his mouth, and icy fog wafts out of his mouth. 

“The fuck—” is all the guard is able to say before Danny tackles him. The force of it knocks them both to the ground, the guard’s head hitting the floor hard. He tries to force Danny off of him again, but Danny holds tight, blood still dripping off his face. “No one said the Waynes has a fucking meta with them!”

“Bad luck,” Danny says, a growl turning his voice into a low rumble, staticky even to his own ears, and the guard pales. 

All it takes is one hand to lift him but his shirt, the fabric of it held tight in his hands. And then Danny slams him back against the ground, making his head bounce, and the guard is out cold. 

He means to drag the guard someplace where he can be locked away until someone can deal with him, but screams rise up from the ballroom, stealing away his attention.

Shit, something must have happened!

As much as he wants to go racing back to help, his priority is Damian. 

The other guests will be protected by the guards (hopefully) and Bruce and Tim. But Damian is unaccounted for, and the longer Danny can’t find him, the more danger he’ll be in.

There’s no point in being discrete or quiet now. Danny runs down the hallway, shouting Damian’s name. 

He doesn’t get any response.

His nose throbs with dull pain each step he takes. His suit is a lost cause, covered in his blood and rumpled from the fight. None of that matters at all as he races down the halls, trying to find Damian.

Distantly, he hears gunshots and more screaming from the ballroom. 

Danny grits his teeth and gives up on running entirely to fly recklessly through walls, dreading every second that passes. 

The second floor is empty, save for the prone figure of the guard lying in the hallway near the stairs. He doesn’t have time to search any higher floors, so Danny goes back down to the ground floor, hoping that the noise from the ballroom would have drawn Damian out. He’s bound to have heard it, wherever he is in the Manor.

He drops back down to this feet and pushes his ghostliness away as he draws closer to the ballroom, wary of running into someone. It doesn’t seem like any of the guests had been able to get out of the ballroom. 

Every so often, there’s a single gun shot. The sound chills him to the bone.

Just as he’s getting closer to the open areas of the Manor, within the rope boundaries he set up with Alfred earlier, he hears a noise in a sitting room that makes him slow to a stop, listening intently. It’s a soft noise, at first. Just a few clinks of objects being moved. Then there are heavy footsteps moving slowly. 

Whoever it is can’t be Damian. He would never be so loud when he walks. 

The door is partially open, so Danny peeks in to see who it is.

It’s not a guard. It’s not any member of the staff that arrive to work the gala. 

In front of a broken window is a large man with a dark orange bandana tied around his nose and mouth, obscuring the bottom half of his face. He’s twitchy, pacing back and forth unsteadily, mumbling to himself. When he turns, the light catches on a glint in his eyes, the same drugged sheen that’s been present with other people who have attacked members of the Wayne household. 

Danny plans to creep in and knock him out so there’s one less person to worry about when a large hand grabs the back of his suit and lifts him up like he weighs nothing. A startled noise slips out of his mouth, making the man in the room whirl around, glaring at him.

“Caught a peeper!” announces the man holding up Danny. He’s large, bigger than a bodybuilding, like the one Danny fought in the mall. “Think Boss will give us more Venom if we drag this thing in?”

The other guy looks over Danny consideringly. “Nah. Bring him here. We can deal with him on our own.”

The not-body building walks into the room, unbothered by how Danny struggles in his hold, kicking out at the air. 

Danny’s thrown unceremoniously onto the floor, where he turns into a roll and gets back up to his feet, carefully keeping both of them in his line sight.

“Oooh, he thinks he’s a fighter,” not-body builder cackles. 

Danny glances at the door. 

“Don’t even think about running,” the first man says. “You work here, don’t you? Why don’t you tell us all about the goodies we can steal from this place. Make us rich and I’ll let you walk away alive.”

All this just for a robbery?

The guns, the break in, the violence, just for a robbery?

That’s fucking insulting. 

Danny checks the open door one more time to make sure no one’s coming their way, then launches himself at not-body builder. His ghost strength comes rushing back into him just as he hits, sending the not-body builder stumbling back with a surprised shout. He wobbles, trying to keep his balance, then falls.

He doesn’t waste a second before kicking his head and knocking him out. 

That’s one down.

Danny takes a deep breath, trying to wrestle down his strength so he doesn’t accidentally do serious damage to the other man, who is much smaller, only to gasp, breath punched out of him. A sharp pain tears through his back, which was left open to the other intruder.

Stupid, stupid! he berates himself, trying to get away. 

But the man holds him still with a hand on his shoulder, and Danny, in his panic, goes intangible.

The knife and the man’s arm go right through his torso.

Danny looks down at the knife. Looks at the arm. Both of them are frozen from this sudden turn of events.

His mind goes blank and he desperately tries to think of what to do when an idea parades itself to the front of him mind, to say: IMPROV.

“What the hell did you do to me?!” Danny cries out, putting as much terror into his voice as possible. 

“What did I  do?” the intruder sputters, pulling back. “I didn’t do anything!”

“Yes you did!” Danny argues. “I’m fucking air! You made me not-solid!”

“That wasn’t me!”

Taking a chance, Danny recalls what the guard upstairs said, and says, “You’re a meta?!”

“I’m not!” the intruder denies, “I didn’t do this to you!”

Danny spins around to face him, trying not to wince when the movement pulls at his back. “Fix this!”

“I can’t! I told you, I didn’t do it! This must be your doing!”

“I think I would know if I could turn into air,” Danny refutes, channelling Paulina to give him a withering look that will, hopefully, make him feel small and stupid. She always was great at digging her heels in and driving people mad with her stubbornness while tearing down their self esteem. He tosses his head back to glare at the intruder, meeting his eyes. “This is clearly your fault so fix it!”

They’re just going back and forth, thrown off their rhythm and scrambling to work though the situation Danny created for them. He doesn’t know how to put a stop to it. He really doesn’t want to be stabbed again.

“I really didn’t do it!” the intruder insists. He looks down at his own hands, faltering. “Right? There’s no way that could have been me…”

He doesn’t get any more time to contemplate whether or not he has powers because his body abruptly tenses, twitches sporadically, and then his eyes roll up and he passes out.

Behind him, holding a taser and wearing a deep scowl, is Damian.

Danny is so relieved to see him that he feels weak in the knees. The blood loss is not helping with that matter. “Damian!” he says, “Where were you? I’ve been looking for you!”

“I felt that something was off so I went to investigate. I found some of the guards marking areas around the ballroom as entries for the gang that’s taken over the ballroom. I was trying to take them out before this happened, but I wasn’t fast enough.”

“What is going on right now?”

“From what I heard when I traversed the vents above the ballroom, the leader of a recently established gang has taken over to take the valuables of all the guests. He is recreating Venom and trying to replace Bane.” Damian shakes his head. “That fool is just going to get himself killed. Bane will stop at nothing to have his head now.”

“I take it this Bane person is a big deal?”

Danny purses his lips, then looks away. “We’ll catch you up on the villains around here later. Come with me, there are others still around.”

“Are we going to the ballroom?”

“No. Black Bat and Nightwing are already here to take care of it. They’re just waiting for an opening. We will be taking out the intruders outside the ballroom, then going to the Batcave to join Pennyworth.”

Damian tries to take hold of Danny’s wrist, but his hand goes right through. He stares down at it in shock, as though he was betrayed.

“Oh, right. Sorry.” Danny drops his intangibility and pats Damian’s hand to let him know he’s solid again.

Damian looks up at him and squints. “Are you alright? You’re bleeding.”

Danny brings a hand up to his face. It’s clean of blood. He must have let it all fall off of him when he went intangible, but his nose is still bleeding and it’s quickly rolling down his face again. He can feel his back get more wet, too, the stab wound steadily pulsing with pain, blood spreading through his suit.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Danny says. He’s survived way worse than a broken nose and a small stab wound. There are people in danger and people trying to hurt them. That takes priority over him, any day.

“Your nose?”

Danny shrugs. “Probably not broken?”

Damian reaches out and prods at his nose, checking it. It brings up flares of dull pain, but it’s not enough that Danny can’t stay still during this. In a matter of seconds, Damian nods and pulls his hands away, so the damage to his face probably isn’t anything to worry about. Danny’s going to trust Damian on this one.

“Very well. Let’s go then. And take this.” Damian holds out his taser to Danny.

“Um. Don’t you need it?”

“I am more than capable of taking people down without weapons. You need this more than I do.”

That’s fair. Danny gingerly takes the taser, keeping his thumb above the switch that will flip it on and have it buzzing with electricity. He follows Damian’s lead as they creep down the hall, staying low and quiet on their feet. Damian keeps in the lead, checking that it’s safe to move before signaling for Danny to follow. 

They take out three more intruders before the lights in the Manor flicker and then go out. Noise swells up in the ballroom before another gunshot silences it.

Danny tenses, fearing the worst, but Damian reaches back to squeeze his hand and whisper, “It’s alright. That was the moment Black Bat and Nightwing were waiting for. They’ll take care of it.”

When he strains his hearing, he can just pick out the shattering of glass and muffled cries of pain. He doesn’t hear anyone’s voices, but as long as no one is screaming, it’s fine. Probably. He hopes, anyways.

They circle around the ballroom, checking room and hallways, but it seems that most of the intruders didn’t bother hanging around out here when all their targets were conveniently in one large room. Having cleared out all the intruders they could, Damian leads them to Bruce’s office.

“What are we doing here?” Danny asks, keeping his voice low as he keeps one eye on the door to ensure no one comes in.

“We’re going to the Batcave,” Damian answers absentmindedly as he fiddles with a grandfather clock behind a desk.

Danny blinks. “Wait, we go in from here?”

“Look.” Danny looks to where Damian has opened up the grandfather clock to reveal a dark staircase that leads down, deep beneath the Manor.

“Huh,” is all Danny can say to that. It’s definitely safer than just falling through the floor like Danny did, but somehow it feels a little anticlimactic. It’s just stairs. It’s very hard to make stairs cool.

They could have at least put in a fire pole. 

A giant underground vigilante cave and not a single fire pole to slide down on? What’s the point then?

Danny holds back a sigh, then grimaces at the heavy taste of blood in his mouth. His nose isn’t hurting as much anymore, just a dull throb, and it’s easily ignored when his back flares with pain with each minute movement. He looks down at the stairs as Damian begins his descent, already wincing at how much it’s going to stuck going down them with a stab wound. 

He could really use that fire pole right now.

Or, actually, why bother taking the stairs? Danny’s half-ghost. It needs to be good for something.

Danny promptly goes ghost, flies down into the cave completely invisible and intangible, then drops back to the ground in a quick flash of light, human again. He intends to stand up and wait where there’s more light, but his head suddenly spins as his vision goes dark. There’s a buzzing in his ears and he gets a strange, floating feeling, as if he’s no longer in his body, just drifting out into open air. 

The floor is cold against his cheek. The floor is…

The floor?

Danny blinks his eyes open, wondering when he closed them. It takes a moment to realize that he’s lying down, somehow, on his back in some dark corner of the cave. There’s a hand on his shoulder, shaking him gently.

He tries to say something but his voice dies halfway out of his throat. A few more blinks has his eyes clearing enough that he can see Damian crouched in front of him, looking over his head, mouth moving as he speaks, though Danny can’t hear anything. His ears are still ringing. 

The world sways around him.

He closes his eyes trying to count his breaths so the world will feel more solid around him. Wayne Manor just got attacked. Now is not the time to be lying around.

But he can’t force himself to get up. His body refuses to respond to him. All he can do is lie on the floor of the cave, trying to get his head to stop spinning, feeling the heat of the wound in his back as it presses against cold stone. 

Arms wind around him, lifting him up, and Danny whines as it jostles him. More blood spills out of his stab wound, soaking his suit even more. Distantly, he hears someone curse as he’s moved into a more brightly lit area. It’s too bright, even with his eyes closed, and Danny turns his face, trying to hide from it. 

A hand runs through his hair, soothing him. He’s carefully set down on something—a bed?

So they can have soft, high quality beds in their vigilante cave, but no fire poles. The Waynes need to get their priorities straight.

He tries to say something about that, but just mumbles out some slurred, nonsense sounds.

Someone hushes him kindly. The hand keeps brushing his hair back soothingly.

And then—

His shirt.

They’re opening his shirt.

They’re taking off his jacket.

Danny is laid out, helpless, held down, and they’re stripping him of his clothes. Terror slams into him like a train, ice in his veins chilling him from the inside out. His eyes snap open and his  blurry vision catches sight of two heads bend down over him, features dark and unrecognizable, backlit by the light shining too brightly right above his face.

His breath stutters in his chest as he stares at them, horrified and betrayed.

What are they doing to him?!

Panicked, Danny beings to thrash, adrenaline surging through it. It dulls his pain, lifts the lead from his limbs, makes him gather enough strength to try to push them away. More hands appear, trying to hold him down and a hoarse scream tears out of his throat. It doesn’t have any power, can’t throw them away from him, and stutters to a stop a few seconds later. 

“No!” he cries, tears leaking out of his eyes. “No, stop! Don’t, please don’t do this to me…”

A sob catches in his chest so hard is hurts. 

The people above him speak over each other, their words melding together. He doesn’t know what they’re saying, just that they’re speaking, but it does nothing to calm him down.

How can he be calm?

They’re trying to cut him open.

He tries to go ghost and his entire body lights up in pain, back arching off the bed as he screams again. 

The lights go out. The hands disappear. 

The world goes still.

Danny heaves for breath, shivering. 

It takes a long time before he feels solid again. Less likely to shake out of his own body. He doesn’t know what just happened. He should be able to go full ghost, but he entire body refused. It hurt and hurt and hurt and he doesn’t understand why.

It’s not just a failure of his powers, but a betrayal.

Slowly, he begins to breathe evenly. His entire body still hurts, but it’s the pain of a bruise, not an electric current running through the whole of him. The world steadies itself and his vision clears up properly.

Something cold touches his hand.

Danny flinches back, then looks up to see Alfred. 

Alfred, who’s aged face is lined with deep concern. Who stands just close enough to hold out the water bottle to Danny. Who doesn’t crowd him or demand answers. 

Alfred, who is safe.

Without thinking about it, Danny sags towards him. Alfred has to step closer, steady him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Danny, my boy,” he says, “Can you hear me now?”

Now? Was Alfred speaking earlier? 

Danny nods, blinking up at him.

“Wonderful. Do you think you could drink some water?”

Another nod. He looks down at the water bottle and its unsealed cap, then his own trembling hands. He doesn’t think he can open it.

Before he can ask Alfred for help, another hand appears in his line of sight, from the other side of the bed. Damian grabs the water bottle and twists it open, then shoves it into Danny’s hands with a click of his tongue.

He doesn’t let go until he’s sure Danny has a solid grip on it.

Danny tries to thank him, but his throat clicks from how sore and dry it is. He drinks half the bottle in one go, clears his throat, and is able to say, “Sorry about that.”

“There’s no need to be sorry,” Alfred says, just as Damian says, “If you’re sorry, then take off your shirt so we can tend to you. You’re injured.”

Alfred turns to Damian with a severe look on his face and Danny hurries to intervene before things can get messy. Or, messier. 

“Right. Sorry. Again. It’s not a big deal, it’s just a small stab wound.”

“A stab wound?” Alfred repeats. “Danny, please let me tend to it. It may need stitches.”

“It doesn’t—”

“You don’t know that,” Damian hisses. “Let Pennyworth help you, or I’ll do it myself. And you won’t like it if I do it myself.”

Danny is ready to refuse again, but the clear concern in Alfred’s eyes stops him. 

He does need help. He doesn’t want to cause trouble for Alfred.

“Fine,” he bites out. “But don’t—don’t touch me if you can avoid it and don’t ask any question.” He doesn’t give himself a chance to second guess, just pulls at his shirt and suit coat, going intangible to get it off him without lifting his arms. Strangely, that doesn’t hurt the way trying to go full ghost did. 

Something to consider later.

The silence that follows is heavy. Danny can’t stand it; he wants to hide away, to rewind the last hour so he can undo what he’s just done, pretend he’s still fine. All his scars are on display. The arcs of electricity from the Accident that have embedded themselves into his skin, close calls from ghost fights that were bad enough to leave a mark in his human form, the burns from his parents inventions locking onto him before he was able to deactivate them.

Alfred lets out a slow breath. Then he says, “Master Damian, if you could get—”

“Of course.” And Damian is up and moving, the light above him turning on. It’s much dimmer than it was before.

“If you could please turn around, Danny. I need to see what I’m working with.”

Danny forces himself to turn, showing his back to Alfred. He’s tense, every inch of him ready to run. 

It’s Alfred, he tells himself sternly. Alfred won’t hurt him. He’s safe.

Damian returns, handing something off to Alfred. He can hear them move, hear things being prepped behind him, metal against metal, and another sliver of terror runs down his spine.

“Stop,” he says without meaning to. 

The cave goes quiet again, both Damian and Alfred freezing. Danny swallows roughly, then turns back to face them. “I can’t,” he chokes out. “I can’t—I need—I need to be able to see you.”

“Then I’ll do your stitches,” Damian announces. He rounds the bed, snapping on a pair of latex gloves. “I am more than capable. Even before I came to Gotham I had learned how to provide medical aid both in practice and on the field.”

“I’ll be right here,” Alfred reassures him. “Master Damian is very capable. He will do a good job at this.”

Danny nods, taking in a shaky breath. “Okay. Okay. Then, please, Damian.” 

“I’ll apply the local anesthesia now. This will keep you from feeling the stitches go in.” Danny tenses, and then the area around his stab wound goes numb, the pain dulling.

Alfred takes hold of his hands. “Breathe with me,” he instructs. Danny does his best, keeping his eyes on Alfred, matching him with each deep, even breath. 

He tries not to be too tense, to think about when Damian will begin, if he’s already started, all the questions they will ask him about his many scars…

“Done,” Damian announces.

…What?

“What? Already?”

“Yes,” Damian says, a pleased note in his voice. “I told you I knew what I was doing. I’m going to put the bandage on it now. Do not get it wet.”

His back and shoulder are still numb enough that he doesn’t feel the bandage get put on, so he just takes Damian’s word for it. That wasn’t as bad as he expected it to be. In fact, that went really well? Fast, too. Danny would have never been able to stitch himself in that time.

Alfred squeezes his hands, leads him through a few more breaths, then pulls away. He helps Danny lie on his side and pulls the blanket up over him. 

“Get some rest now, Danny. I’ll be here while you sleep.”

“Wait, the gala. Is everyone…?”

“Everyone is alright. The police had been contacted and will be here soon. Nightwing and Black Bat have the situation under control. There is nothing more you need to do.” A hand drops over Danny’s eyes, blocking out the light. “You can rest now, Danny.”

He’s sure that he won’t be able to sleep at all, let alone soundly, after all that. But his body has other ideas and in no time he’s pulled under into that deep darkness that shuts away the rest of the world and lets him drift away. . . .

(The scar map of Danny is being uploaded into the Batcomputer’s archives when Nightwing arrives, carrying a plate full of finger foods pilfered from the gala.

“Where’s Danny?!” he demands, sweeping his gaze across the entirety of the Batcave. He sees Danny curled up in a medical cot before Alfred can answer. “What happened?”

“He was stabbed,” Damian answers nonchalantly from where he’s going through sword katas to work out some of his more volatile emotions.

“Stabbed?!”

“Yes, that’s what I said.”

Cass appears behind Nightwing, already shedding parts of her uniform. She steals something from the plate in Nightwing’s hand and is about to eat it when he hisses, “That’s for Danny!” 

She slowly puts it back on the plate. 

Alfred watches her stare at Danny in the medical cot, then turn on her heel to go to the lockers to change out of the rest of her suit. 

“Miss Cassandra, if you could please pick up all your clothes off the floor,” he says as she walks. Cass darts back to pick up everything she dropped behind Nightwing, then disappears into the locker room.

Nightwing finally shakes himself out of his stupor and makes his way over to Alfred, setting the plate down next to him. “Seriously, is Danny alright?”

Alfred places his hands on the desk, palms flat against it, and very calmly says, “Hunting down every person who has ever hurt him will be the last mission I ever go out on.”

“Shit.”

In any other case, he would have reprimanded Nightwing’s language. In this case, it’s the only appropriate response.

“Once the police are gone and the guests seen off, we need to have another family discussion. Danny is a very brave and very strong lad, but he’s gone through far too much. We must do better.”

“I’ll call the war council then.”

“See that you do, Nightwing.”

Alfred nods to him, then pulls the chair away from the Batcomputer to Danny’s medical cot, and sits with him. Looking down at his thin, worn face, Alfred is reminded of Bruce, in the aftermath of his parents’ murder, of Dick’s first nights in the Manor, of Jason and his nightmares, Tim and his loneliness. Now, Danny and his fear will join the expressions he never wants to see on his family again.

He is so young, so fragile, so bright and wonderful despite it all.

Yes, war council is the only appropriate way to move forward. It is the least he can do for Danny, so do it he will.)

[tangerinesilk]

－ I CAN SEE YOU : TANGERINE X FEM!READER

tangerine is going on a solo mission… well, at least he thinks he is. with lemon missing by his side, he’s left with one other option that is supposed to make his job easier. unfortunately for him, you’re not the easiest to work with. stubborn, strong-minded and feisty. you’re both so alike yet nothing has made your bloods boil more than each other. 

rating ✷ r (18+ minors dni!)

warnings ✷ (very quick) smut: fem receiving, kisses all over bodies, a needy but quick hj, p in v, dirty talk, praising, implied rough (consensual) sex / others: cursing, drinking alcohol, mention and use of guns and violence, male hurting female (?) but not between main characters, mentions of blood and wounds.

tropes ✷ enemies to lovers!!!, person a is all talk no bite + person b knows that but still pushes them, playful banter, hiding together in small spaces, fake dating (?), if one is hurt– the other goes a bit crazy, says ‘i dont care’ then cares 5 seconds later. 

word count ✷ 6k!

songs that fit the vibe ✷ i can see you - taylor swift | moth to a flame - swedish house mafia + the weeknd | king of my heart - taylor swift | attention - charlie puth | nonsense - sabrina carpenter

a/n ✷ so i made a poll a months ago and this trope + pairing won! i’ve honestly been wanting to write a dave lizewski one as well and got a request idea. so.. we will see lmao. i will probably post then maybe edit later if there's still things i don't like... also, if you couldn't tell but im kind of a swiftie so i will love to write fics inspired by whole ass albums y'all.

but i hope this is what u guys expected and wanted. i actually do love writing for tangerine. just gives into my delulu thoughts. also, if you guys would like a plain pwp fic and not all of this fluff and dialogue stuffed inside, pls let me know bc i am definitely into that idea. 🫡

“You had to go and get yourself shot… then you wonder why you have to wear a bulletproof vest. Fuckin’ hell.” 

Tangerine kept his voice at a hushed tone, basically talking under his breath as he strutted through the grand hall of the hotel. Golden light glossed over his figure, passing by couples who were at standing tables with their cocktails.

“Well, Thomas said-”

“Thomas didn’t say shit. Don’t get me fuckin’ started now.”

Lemon already knew Tan was in a bad mood. Another Thomas the Tank Engine factoid wasn’t a playful move right now.

“Hey, mate. Don’t get all fussy wit’ me. You’re just mad about your new partner for the night.” Lemon rolled his eyes.

“Can’t believe I can’t be held accountable of myself. I can handle it on my own but you had to call the fuckin’ princess-” 

“She’s good. Your denial is obnoxious, bruv. It’s only a night, you get in and get out.” Lemon replied, holding his wounded side as he laid in his bed back in England, “What happened between you two that you’ve got beef like this?”

“No time to explain nor do I have the patience.” He arrived at the small bar to the side of the room, “If I leave her behind, can I take half the pay that’s supposed to be hers?” Tangerine asked.

“She’s supposed to be wearing a red dress. You’ll see her there… and please don’t cause a scene.” His brother begged.

“No promises.” He replied before hanging up. 

Tangerine blows a sigh past his lips, quickly asking for his drink of choice before scanning the mass of people around him. His blue eyes could only search so fast for the man that the hit was called on, causing him an instant frustration when he’s already worried about you ruining things regardless of how long you’re together.

“He’s next to the woman in the tacky gold ballgown… about two feet away from the ice sculpture.” Your soft voice suddenly spoke next to him, “But, I didn’t need to tell you that, right?”

The smirk on your face burned at his nerves and you noticed the clench in his jaw.

“Well, if it isn’t the fuckin’ Queen herself.” He said in a stern tone, “What? Germany was too borin’ for ya? Had to figure out a way to ruin someone’s operation?”

“Lemon is the one who called me in, and it isn’t about you. It’s about the pay out… you’re bound to screw something up with your ‘shoot first, ask questions later’ tactic.” You trailed, rolling your eyes as you turned your head away.

“And I’m certainly not afraid to use that tonight and not your fucked up, painfully long mind games like some fuckin’ psycho thilling killer.” He spat as his drink was place in front of him.

You narrowed your eyes at him, “Fuck you.”

“Darling, I’m flattered, but we have more important things to do right now.” He lowly groaned, purposefully looking at his target so his back was facing toward you.

Behind his tall stature, you glimpsed past his shoulder and saw your target chatting up a woman. 

He won’t be smiling for long, you thought.

“Alright, I’ll wait for him to slip away, follow him and you go through the kitchen.” Tangerine said under his breath, keeping quiet for only you to hear him.

“To go where?” You ask, walking around him to stand face to face.

“Erm…” He sighed, “Whatever car or vehicle you got here in, drive yourself back to whatever place you’re staying and I’ll figure out how to wire you the money.” He shrugged, downing the rest of his drink.

He took a step but you placed your hand on the center of his chest, “Not so fast. I’m not going down if you make a mess of this.”

“I don’t make messes. Well, actually, I get away with them once I’ve done ‘em so, I don’t need to worry about a liability.” Tangerine smirked, a bit of a tilt to his head. Cheeky bastard.

“The only liability here is the one who is ready to pull the trigger in his back.” You said before huffing, “I’m not sorry for what happened in Paris, but that was my choice. So, I’m going with you because it’s our operation. You know… I don’t need a fucking helping hand either.” You practically growled.

The two of you held a long gaze, creating a tense eye contact before he sighed, “Didn’t even say anythin’ about Paris, but if you’d like to assume I’m still mad ‘bout that, be my guest, princess.”

His shoulder bumped yours, making you clench your jaw before quickly following behind his tall stature. While he seemed persistent, you grabbed his hand which made him stop in his tracks in the middle of the dance floor.

He turned, “Am I your babysitter?”

“No, you’re my date. Hold my hand, you idiot.” Your eyes pierced through his.

As he looked down at your hand, he slowly grasped it, your fingers intertwining with one another’s before he proceeded through the glamorous crowd.

Couples swayed and waltzed between each step you took, assuming you were unnoticed by your target. Tangerine kept his eyes on him, easy to with the frosty-white full head of hair he had slicked back. The woman in the tacky dress ran her hand down his shoulder, pressing her lips to his ear to whisper something which made you and Tangerine veer to the side at a standing table.

“Are they movin’?” He asked, facing his back toward them.

Your eyes smoothly shift, taking a quick glance at the assumed couple. You ran your hand down Tangerine’s arm, accidentally feeling how toned his bicep was through the thick fabric of his suit jacket. You almost glanced down, wanting to give another squeeze before clearing your throat. A heat rose on your cheeks as you turned your head to face away from him.

“Y-Yeah, near the bathroom. There’s also a backdoor that leads up to the second floor… lots of private rooms for reasons that are obvious.” You said in a hushed tone, moving away from him to the other side of the table.

“Alright, since you wanna tag along, I’ll follow them and you cover the door.” Tangerine suggested once again.

You furrowed your eyebrows, “You do understand what teamwork is, yes?”

He chuckled, “Yes, I go up there, shoot a few rounds, then we make a getaway.”

“Will you just trust me?”

“Your trust means nothing… I need to know you’re not going to fuck anything up. Just like in Paris.”

You smirked, “So you do have that against me.”

“Well, it’s not like it was your best. Leave me with a shot in the arm, Lemon on the ground and you, little miss greed, get away with your cash. If we all did this job for money, we wouldn’t be riskin’ our lives just runnin’ around killin’ or resucin’ people just for someone’s dime. You obviously do though.”

You narrowed your eyes, “You don’t know me…”

“Nor do you know me so…” He huffed, “Let’s just do what we have to do.”

There was tension between you, as if there was more fo a protective instinct than hate toward one another. You couldn't figure out Tangerine’s deal. Why was he so hostile toward you? Yes, what happened in Paris was fucked up, but he wasn’t the type to hold a grudge. He didn’t take shit from anyone, so why were you getting under his skin?

“Shit!” He grunted under his breath, seeing your target disappear into the hall.

The two of you hurry, yet still try to act casual to not raise eyebrows, and exit into the same hallway. As you push open the door, you hear the two talking in the stairwell before another door closes.

“You got your gun on you?” He asked as his hand slid into the back of his pants.

“Of course.” You scoffed, tearing up the slit in your dress. He saw the small pistol strapped to your thigh, making his mouth a bit dry.

He nodded, “Good…” 

Taking a quick breath, Tangerine opened the door. You slipped through and he followed behind, your backs facing one another as you scanned the hallway. It wasn’t narrow but if anyone slipped out of one of the rooms, they were right in your sights.

“I’ll take this one, you take that one.” He whispered, pointing his gun to the opposite door of his.

With your heart in your throat, you slowly crack the door open and don’t see anyone before a body flies from behind and slammed the door open from Tangerine’s side. The woman lied dead on the floor, blood all over his dress, and just as you turned around, a punch slid across your cheek. 

Instinctively, you ducked to dodge the second jab and swoop under to get on the other side of the man as Tangerine wrapped his arms around the guy to pull him to the ground.

Tan loudly grunted as he tried to gain control, basically attempting to straddle him in order to push his arm against his neck. Even with all his strength, the man gripped his hands around Tangerine’s arms to throw him off along with trying to push his knee between his crotch.

“Watch the door!” Tan directed to you. 

You nodded, catching your breath with your back against the wall by the door. The adrenaline ran through your veins and heard your heartbeat in your ears as one tear of blood dripped down your cheek. The crack of bones made you turn your head, seeing the man’s body go limp as Tan began to stand over him.

He quickly walked over the man, as if he was in the way, and comes to your side.

“He nicked you bad. Lemme see.” Tan said, your eyes meeting his as he held your cheek. The touch of his hand seemed to be some comfort, his thumb wiping the blood away and trying to see how bad the wound was.

“Bastard.” He muttered, “C’mon, let’s go before someone comes up.”

Without a word in, he grabbed your hand and dragged you behind his lead. You two headed for the exit door down the other side of the hall as you heard footsteps rumble from the other stairs you came up.

“Wait a minute.” Tan said, fiddling with his belt buckle.

Your eyes widen, “What on earth are you doing?”

He smirked, “Relax, darling. You flatter yourself too much.”

You rolled your eyes as the sound of his belt slid against the fabric of his belt loops before curling the leather strap around the door to keep it locked. The two of you fled down the stairs and suddenly found yourselves in the kitchen area. A few eyes followed as you both ran through, very obvious that you were running from something, but still aimed to get to some kind of exit.

With sudden luck, Tangerine saw his car across the street, instantly knowing which way he was supposed to go. Without skipping a beat, he grabbed your hand once more and the two of you ran across the street. Hopping into the passenger seat and Tan taking off was like a blur, just happening in seconds.

“Y/N?” Tan saying your name woke you from your trance.

“Huh?” You asked, shaking your head.

He quickly turned his head, “You alright?” He said with concern, one hand on the steering wheel and his foot easing off the gas.

“Y-Yeah, I’m okay. I don’t know what happened back there.” You trailed, a bit embarrassed. You were never one to let your guard down, well– enough to get hit right smack in the face.

“Are you sure?”

You turned your attention to him, “I’m fine, why wouldn’t I be?” You asked rhetorically.

“‘Cause of that big cut on your cheek.”

You narrowed your eyes, “Alright, what’s your big plan now, Einstein? Were just going to sleep in your car and hope we don’t wake up decapitated?”

He half-chuckled, “You truly think so little of me, don’t you?”

“Is that rhetorical?”

Tan rolled his blue eyes, “We’re goin’ somewhere safe.”

– – –

You wanted to believe you were strolling into some kind of trap. The lobby had a classic aesthetic to it, pale gold wallpaper and a wall of keys behind the person at the small front desk. You two placed your go-bags on the red carpeted ground as Tangerine checked into a room.

“Hello Mr. Tangerine.”

Oh, great. He’s some guest of honor here.

“‘Ello, Colin. My usual room.”

“Is that what you say in front of all the girls?” You tilted your head, standing behind him.

He rolled his eyes, “‘Cuse her.”

The man chuckled, crinkles by his eyes, “How many nights are you staying this time?”

This time. You could scoff out loud but you didn’t want to hear the tude from him.

“Just overnight. Nothin’ too serious.”

“Well, enjoy your stay, as always.” The man nodded before Tangerine thanked him.

The two of you head toward the old elevator, watching him quickly press the up button before you stand by his side. You half chuckled, “I’ve never seen you act so kindly toward anyone, tell me, does he see you bring girls through here all the time or-”

“Has anyone ever told you to shut your pie hole?”

“Hmm, not verbally. But, those eyes of your say enough for me… you’re too predictable, sometimes, Tan.”

He gave you a lingering look as the door opened, passing him into the elevator. The two of you make your way to the fifth floor and the hall is eerily quite for a hotel full of private contractors and assassins. You had your hands behind your back then patiently waited for Tangerine to jiggle the key into the lock, opening a door to a huge room with a surprisingly wide view.

“You’d think the curtains were closed.” You muttered as he walked over, closing them anyways.

Suddenly, he stripped from his suit jacket and you couldn’t help but see how tight his button up was around his biceps and chest.

“Did you get that a size too small?” You ask as you chunk your heels into the corner.

“Well, I certainly can’t kill fuckin’ bloaks wearing baggy clothes now.”

“But, you can in a three piece suit?” You cocked your eyebrow.

He licked his lips, “As if your dress is a flexible material.” Tangerine said as he pulled his rings off, placing them on the night stand.

“I can say the same for your pants.”

Tangerine wanted to look down but didn’t give into your comment. You place your bag down on the bed, grabbing your silk pajamas nearly folded on top and changed in the bathroom.

“God, just go to bed. We’ve got a long day tomorrow.” You somewhat groaned.

You sit on the top of the bed, unfolding the duvet before shoving it off to get underneath them.

Tangerine paused, “What the fuck do you you’re doin’?”

You furrowed your eyebrow, “This thing called going to sleep. Try it sometime, you’d be less grouchy.”

He rolled his eyes, “I know that, smartass, I mean what’re you doin’ in the bed that I’m goin’ to be sleepin’ in too?”

You rolled over, putting your weight on your elbows, “I know you’re dramatic but this takes the cake for top performances.”

He faked a laugh, “If you don’t get your ass out of that bed in two seconds, I’ll throw you in the tub with a pillow.”

“Oh, wouldn’t you like to. Fine, do it.” You said before laying flat into the mattress, staring straight at the ceiling.

He didn’t care for your equal amount of sarcasm, but he just gave you a cocked eyebrow.

“Okay, fine. I’d rather sleep on the floor anyways.” He said, stretching his arms up and behind his head. Your eyes quickly admired his muscles before turning back.

“Be my guest, princess.” You scoffed, slipping on your pajama shorts, “I’ll enjoy my big comfy bed.”

You pulled the heavy duvet over your waist, curling up with the dense pillow beneath your head. 

Tangerine stood there, biting the inside of his cheek as he watched you roll on your side. He tilted his head back before unbuttoning his shirt and tossing it on the desk chair. Although your eyes were closed, his side of the bed sunk in and you tried to hold back your smile at his faded stubbornness.

With your backs facing one another, you two just listened to the silence of the city. It gave you a moment to think of Paris– the last time you were with one another or much rather supposed to be against each other. You were a double agent, not exactly proud of it but you let greed take over your motivated justice. 

Having to scam Lemon and Tangerine wasn’t your finest hour either, you thought about it for months and finally coming face to face with Tangerine (out of the two, he wasn’t the one you would want to bump into again), all the guilt came rushing back like the snap of an elastic band.

– – –

The morning sun runs through the thin silk of the curtains, shining over your bodies in the bed. You wake up to the sound of light snoring, happy that you could sleep through it, and Tangerine in a deep slumber with his arm over the bed. He suddenly looked like innocence, so soft and tender, simply laying there like it was any other day.

You sit up, putting your hair out of your face then head to the bathroom. When you turn the light on, you’re almost surprised to see your reflection. Forgetting about the scar against your cheek, you look more rough around the edges. You sigh as you run your fingers over it, remembering the way Tangerine did last night.

After washing up, you go back out and Tangerine is now standing up and stretching his arms above his head. Your eyes quickly shift up his body, admiring the tattoos in their random places and how the band of his briefs rest on his hips. You sealed your lips from smiling at how sharp his v-line was accompanied by the happy trail disappearing into his pants.

“Sleep good with that stick in your ass?” You retort, passing him.

He rolled his eyes, “...You’re annoying, ya know that?”

“Oh, you’ve made that clear.” You mocked him as you closed the curtains more, “That’s why I love to do it.”

Tangerine flicked on the lamp, giving the room a warm glow.

“Alright, I say we lay low today. Better to be out of sight and–”

You cut him off, “Stuck in this room together?... are you trying to kill me t–”

He then put his hand over your mouth, looking deep into your eyes, “Yes, stuck in this room where we can keep an eye on each other and you can’t screw me over again.”

Your heart stopped for a split second, as if he couldn’t have been more of the controlling one. He took his hand away and you gulped, “Yep. Fine. Fair.”

Tangerine pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek before you go to your bag in the chair that’s pushed in the corner of the room. You slightly bend over to look inside your duffle and his icy eyes can’t help but look up the back of your thighs and straight at your ass and lower back. How he could easily put his hands on your hips and make you hold onto something.

He shook his head, feeling like he was coming down with something to even imagine that thought.

You pulled out an old novel and sat yourself back on the bed, hoping that the hours would pass as you sank further into the broken-in mattress.

Tangerine sat down in the chair nudged into the corner, adjacent from your view, and he pulled out his gun that was conveniently tucked into the back of his pants.

“Are you actually holding me hostage?” You furrowed your brows, but didn’t take your eyes from your sentence.

“Whatever fantasy you’d like you believe.” He trailed, opening his gun and emptying his rounds into his palm.

– – –

Suddenly, you leaped out of a deep sleep. Your book laid open on your stomach while an extra pillow was between your legs. Your eyes fluttered open, thinking the past few days has been a dream, until you noticed Tangerine wasn’t sitting in the chair. You quickly looked around before hearing the bathroom door open and he stepped out, shirtless and in new dark slacks that rested on his hips.

Your mouth became dry. How could you dislike him so much yet here you are, ready to jump his bones as he crossed the room.

“What are you getting dressed for?” You asked, rubbing your eyes.

He half-chuckled at your groggy voice, “I want a drink.”

“Oh, like you’re not just going to abandon me here like I did you?... Where you go, I go.” You warned him.

He rolled his eyes, “Don’t be so dramatic.”

“A bit hypocritical coming from you.”

Tangerine just ignored your smart comment and opened the door, letting you through first before he followed. His eyes, once again, trace your lower back and trailed down your legs. His cheeks flushed pink as he quickly looked away, clearing his throat as he caught up to you so you two were walking side by side.

You pushed the faded down button as you pushed a big breath past your lips. Tangerine put his back against the wall and crossed his arms, his muscles basically restraining in his light button up. As you turned around, you rolled your eyes– but not at him, just at yourself. How could you have any little feeling for someone who also annoyed you to your core?

He took your silence as a bit of a tease. To be fair, you two didn’t really know one another. You met once before and then you simply betrayed him. Quickly, you were dead to him, but now you’re forced to be together and it raised an important question to himself too. Why was he helping someone who obviously can’t be trusted? 

Tangerine furrowed his eyebrows at that thought, knowing he would have thrown you to the wolves last night after you closed your eyes. He played with his watch a bit before the elevator dinged and caught both of your attentions.

After entering, the low-sounding shifting mechanics of the elevator were the only sounds between you two. You heard Tangerine sniffle, seeing him stretch his neck out of the corner of your eye, but you kept a straight view to the doors. While Tangerine thought you were continuing to give him the silent treatment, you were lost in your own thoughts of the past.

You flashbacked to your last night in Paris together, and remembered how the guilt creeped up on you knowing that, in a few hours, you’d have to betray both Lemon and Tangerine. Before knowing them, you didn’t care, but now that you’ve realized how hard you were falling for Tan, it felt like a double edged sword. If you didn’t do it, maybe you could stay with him– have a life together. But, if you went through with your selfish heist, you’d lose the guy who made you comfortable with being vulnerable after a long time. 

Obviously, you regretted your decision.

“Is this what you want?” You simply asked.

Tangerine quickly turned his head, “What?”

You rolled your eyes before facing his direction, “This.” You gestured between the two of you, “The weird animosity and constantly arguing and nit-picking?”

He never thought you’d be so bold to point it out, “I mean, we don’t like each other. Simple, isn’t it?”

“I guess…” You trailed, facing back toward the doors.

Tangerine licked his lips, wondering if he should utter the words on his tongue.

“...But, that doesn’t mean we can’t start over.”

You looked over your shoulder once more before turning around to him, “You mean that?”

He arched his eyebrow, “Should I regret it now?”

Just as the elevator dinged, the doors slowly opened and the hotel lobby appeared empty. You smirked to yourself, “Why don’t we catch up over that drink, huh?” You sort of teased– not sure if it had purpose.

– – –

Your drink tasted smooth, easily trailing down your throat as you leaned your head back to finish off the rest of the liquor in your glass. Once you tilted your head back straight, you were met with Tangerine’s signature eyebrow arch.

“Don’t worry, I’m paying for my own drinks.” You sighed, placing your glass back down on the wooden table top.

“As long as I don’t got to carry you back up to the room.” He sighed, sounding more defeated than witty, then his blue eyes glanced down then back into your eyes.

You hummed, running your finger along the rim of the empty glass. 

“‘right so, what’ve you been doin’ since we last…” He cleared his throat, “saw one other?”

You crossed your leg over the other, “Not much. Actually, it’s the first time I’ve been out for a while. After leaving you guys, I laid low in Tuscany.”

“For how long?”

You shrugged, “Five months? I was on the countryside and I wanted to be alone…” then, you smirked, “I heard that you were in Kyoto.” 

Tangerine could chuckle about it now, “For a bit. Had a job to do for some psychotic, fucked up family. The dad called in us, they were all turin’ on each other. Whole fuckin’ thing…”

“As in…” You trailed, “Against one another? The whole family?”

He just nodded before taking a sip of his drink.

You raised your eyebrows, “Wow… and you got out with no bruises or cuts? Bullet holes?”

Tangerine licked his lips before he presented the side of his neck, lighter skin over his tanner tone to show the scar. You carefully reached out, brushing your fingers against it which made a tingle go up his spine. You sit back down as he turned back in his chair, and he seemed to tense up.

“Amazing you survived it.” You sealed your lips.

He crossed his arms, “I supposed…”

A comfortable silent fell between you, the light, jazz music playing at a low, and Tangerine’s eyes trailed up the side of your bare leg. He didn’t mean to stare this much, but he felt more vulnerable than usual. One thing you knew is that Tangerine was a layered person, you had to take time to get to the center of him and realize he’s not so cold once you get to know him.

“Five months in Tuscany, I bet that was lovely.”

“Not really. I isolated the whole time… I wanted to be by myself, but I felt bad about what happened… what I did in Paris.” You admitted, but didn’t look into his eyes, fearing that he would turn on you in a second.

Tangerine sighed, “You had to do your job, we did ours… that’s ‘bout all that can be said.” 

Assuming from the lack of eye contact and his tone, he seemed hurt too. You could easily let it boost your ego, but, you actually felt a relief. This hatred you’ve held against each other has finally come down and even though it wasn’t actually said, both of you can feel hostility leave the room.

You bit the inside of your cheek, “Remember, we’re starting over. Clean slate. I hope I’m making a good impression so far.” You raised your eyebrows, lifting your glass again just to drink the mixture of watered down liquor. 

He chuckled, “You’re just lovely.”

The comment made your face get hot. You blame the accent and how it can just get under your skin.

“I don’t think you’ve ever called me something so nice.”

Tangerine smirked, “Funny since we’ve just met, darling.”

Darling.

It was the first time you heard it as a term of endearment then pure spite.

You rolled your eyes, but you could humor that Tangerine was going along with it. This new cheeky side of him was something you didn’t think existed– maybe it was the liquor talking, but you hoped it wasn’t just that simple.

“So, what brings you here?” You continued to tease, placing your elbows on the table, “Business… or pleasure?” Your hand laid on top of his, brushing your fingertips along the chunky rings that perfectly fit his fingers.

Multiples thoughts sounded through both your minds.

“Maybe it’s the liquor.” “Maybe we’re a little over our heads.” “Maybe we’re bored.”

But, Tangerine held your hand on top of the table, gently holding it as his thumb grazes over your knuckles.

“Depends…” He trailed, now leaning in too, “What are you here for?”

– – –

In just a few minutes, you two were back in the room you felt trapped in for hours.

Tangerine pressed your back against the wall, a tingle running up your spine from the coolness of the wallpaper. Your lips pressed together over and over, tilting your head before biting his bottom lip. He effortlessly lifted you up with his hand under the back of your thighs, and your ankles meet around his back.

He needed so bad, desperate even… and the feeling was mutual.

He put you down on your feet again, pressing a kiss against your scarred cheek then another on your jaw. His light kisses run down the middle of your breasts as his hand lifted up the end of your skirt. You pushed your hips out as your back was against the wall still, watching him pull down your panties in an instant. You kick them to the side and Tangerine placed your leg over his shoulder, kisses along your inner thigh and your hand ran through the front of his curls.

Suddenly, his tongue ran over your swollen clit before sucking on it. With one hand in his hair, the other caressing your breast and running your thumb over your nipple.

Tangerine panted, moving his hand against your pussy lips. He pushed them apart, showing your tight hole and how you clench around nothing. He lowly groaned, running his fingers over your clit before sliding his two fingers into your pussy. You bite your bottom lip to hold back the moan stuck in your throat, watching him suck your clit and finger you at the same time.

Just as your climax neared, he felt your cunt tighten around his fingers. He couldn’t end it like this so, he took them away. You let your leg down, watching him come back up and tower over you.

“If I’m goin’ to make you cum…” He sighed, “I’m gonna be deep inside you when you fucking crumble.” He said so low before pressing his fingers against your tongue, and you tasted yourself.

You pulled his hand back, running your thumbs over his tattooed hand.

“Not if I make you cum first.” You trailed, moving his hand down so you could kiss him.

He could drop to his knees in an instant, but Tangerine surprisingly kept his composure. 

You smirked as you pushed him toward the bed, the back of his knees hitting it to make him sit down. As you stood in front of him, he leaned on his elbows as he watched your dress drop to the floor. It pooled at your ankles and when his eyes shifted back up, so glossed over, your bare body was the center of his attention.

“Hmm, I don’t think you’ll last.” You taunted.

As much as he could snap back, you straddled him and pulled apart his tightly buttoned shirt. Your hands ran over his toned and tatted chest before reaching down to his pants, unzipping the fly and he shuffled a bit to shift them off his hips. His cock was hard, restrained from his boxers and you felt flattered.

You giggled, leaning forward to share a slow kiss with him. Your bare pussy rubbed against his cock as you moved closer to him. A low groan mumbled between your makeout, and you pushed him back so you two both fell on the bed.

Your hands pressed into each side of the mattress, gaining strength to help yourself grind against his hard. His big hands tightly held your hips as you continued your smooth momentum, whimpering at your clit being rubbed by your harsh grind.

As heat rose in the room, your right hand dipped between the two of you, and ran over his hard cock once more. Tan’s lips now desperately met your jaw before taking a light bite at your neck. The feeling of your hand caressing through his boxers could make him release right there.

Becoming more impatient, you finally pushed your hand into the band of his boxers and he once more moved his hips to shift out of them. 

“Fuck, your cock is so big… can barely hold it with my hand. God, I want you to stretch me out…” You moaned, “Is that okay?”

You purposefully let him believe that he was in charge, and you were falling into the submissive role. Tangerine gained a bit of confidence from your desperate comments, and he sat more up on the bed.

“Fucking christ…” Is all he could say.

He moved the swollen and red tip against your wet slit, also aching and needing your walls to wrap around him now. At first there was pressure, pushing the tip inside your hole then slowly guiding your hips down to completely take in every inch of his cock. 

Once he bottomed out, your body lightly shook as your lips brushed against his. He was fully inside you, the tight and warm feeling making him wither beneath you.

Tangerine moved his hand, kissing your shoulder, “God, you feel like fuckin’ heaven.”

“Don’t stop. Please…” You huffed.

– – –

Then, it was morning. 

The rising sun peaked through the small split of the curtains. As you tried to shift, your body ached throughout every muscle. A small groan left your lips, but you were pulled back by a strong arm wrapped around your waist.

It snapped you back into reality. Last night really happened… and you were okay with that.

Tangerine’s tattooed arm unconsciously tightened around you, holding you close still as he still slept behind you. You barely look over your shoulder and saw his face, his eyes still shut and his curls looked wild.

You faintly smile as you turn around to face him, and that’s what woke him up. He pulled his arms back and rubbed his eyes from the brightness of the sun coming in. You run your finger along a curl on his forehead, pushing it to the top of his head and your heart melted from the sight of those blue eyes.

“Did last night really happen?” You mumbled, but with a faint smile on your lips.

He placed his hand gently on your cheek, caressing his thumb against your jaw. 

“I think the real question is…” He trailed, “Do we stay another night or go back to pretending to not know each other's existences?”

You bit your bottom lip, lightly giggling, “I think we pick secret option three and go somewhere else. Get away for a while… see where this is going. Don’t you?”

Just at that moment, Tangerine’s phone vibrated in his pants that were on the floor next to the bed. He turned over on his other side, reaching down to pull it out and reading a text Lemon just sent.

“Got a call about a job in Budapest. Are you in or overstaying your weekend?”

Tangerine smirked at himself, then felt your lips press against his neck. You placed another kiss on his shoulder, leaving a tender love bite before he turned back around to kiss you. Maybe it was the natural thrill of the chase, but you loved the not knowing. 

Whatever was next, you could only hope that he kept it interesting.

[azulera]

Jadon and y/n coming back to Dortmund. The first game back and everyone is super happy to have these to back

By Night in Dortmund

Pairing: Jadon Sancho x Black Reader

Words: 2.5k

Notes: anon i know you probably wanted something short and cute but the emotions were flowing and i needed to let them free (i am in a writing slump). verrry mushy fluffy hurt / comfort forgive me, hope u like it  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By night, Dortmund looks just how she remembered it. Locals are still trickling out from the shops and bars downtown, but the thin, quaint streets are familiar as the chauffeured car zips toward the hotel the club has booked for them. The driver’s English is fluent and though it’s nearing 22:00, his manner is chipper, and polite. He doesn’t blink an eye when Y/N leans over, pressing into Jadon’s side in the backseat.

“Are you alright? You’ve been quiet.”

“Yeah, I’m good.” Jadon reaches for her hand and pulls them both to rest in his lap. “Just thinkin.”

“About what?”

“About how when I came here for the first time, remember I saw someone’s nan, like, a group of em, leaving the pub like 2am. Couldn’t believe it.”

She huffs, and leans her head against his shoulder. Her hair and ears are protected by a yellow, silk-lined BVB hat.

“The exact same as England, no? All the nans love a pub run now and then. What was the one in Manchester all the aunties went to?”

“Don’t remember.” Jadon fidgets in his seat, and a cold surge shoots down her back. Perhaps it wasn’t the aptest comment to make. She can do better than to mention the city that for the next five months at least, they will both hope to forget.

“Well, anyways, it’s normal. Do you think the physios will-”

She interrupts her own sentence with a yawn, which is long and drawn out and makes both Jadon and the driver laugh.

“Are you tired? You can stay at the hotel while I go to medical.”

“‘No,” She shakes her head, rubbing the drowsiness from her eyes that has seemed to strike from out of nowhere. “No, I’ll go with you.”

“My sleepy girl,” Jadon tutts, and kisses her on the forehead, right above her frowning eyebrows. She is determined not to let his affection relax her into sleep. “M’sorry it’s so late. Know you had a long day.”

It’s all of the past week– the past three years, really– that have been long, and even though leaving Manchester feels like a genie's wish finally granted, there is a balloon of tensions still swelling just under the surface. She’s thrilled to be back in Germany, and beyond excited to see Jadon in action again on the pitch, but also knows the current solution is only a quick one. A long term plan for her boyfriend’s career is not yet in their hands, still fluttering up in the air.

The uncertainty has been a frigid block of ice in her stomach since they deboarded the plane.

“So have you.”

“Yeah, but, still. How bout you decide after we check in our room? We’re almost there.”

Jadon peers out of the window, and she follows his gaze. The colorful passing lights, and the possibility of receiving more of his kisses are motivation to stay awake.

“We’re almost there? How d’you know?”

“‘Cause I know.” He continues looking out the window, but his hand tightens in her grasp. Leaning against his chest, she can feel his deep, hopeful sigh when it escapes him. “I’m at home, innit.”

—--

The Merck-Stadion am Böllenfalltor is no Signal Iduna Park, but the incessant fervor of German football fans is found in almost every city. Blue flags and scarfs are scattered so densely across the stadium that it’s hard to make out anything else from her seat, but when the players exit the tunnel at kick-off her eyes spot Jadon like magic. He is a tiny dot, covered in black, a dark speck on the bench, and simultaneously the only one in the crowd who matters. She wants desperately to know what he’s thinking, how he’s feeling about the match, but knows his phone with her “good luck” texts is tucked dutifully away in his locker. So from here, she can only think at him: You can do this, You deserve this, Everyone here is behind you.

The ice block inside shifts every time she moves.

It has melted down a fraction when the first half ends, with a lovely finish by Julian, but not much else to show. Darmstadt are not the most formidable of opponents, but anyone knows that home or away, a one-goal lead rarely guarantees anything, is hardly enough to shrink the worry down to size. During the break, she orders two hot chocolates from the beverage stand to stay warm and for moral support.

Once she’s finished the first cup, she reflects, that, just maybe, the anxieties she’s harboring are unfounded. The homecoming, after all, has been mostly joyful: Jadon’s medical test last night went seamlessly, the other partners and families in the seats next to her have been incredibly kind, and the welcome from Terzic and Jadon’s new and not-so-new teammates has been sincere, and warm.

So she can’t explain why it feels still as if she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Or, for some snag or slip up to scratch the surface, and ruin the pretty picture that Jadon is fighting so hard to restore. There's no logical reason why, in the 60th minute, when the match resumes and she sees the yellow #10 shining on his back, she's teleported back to those dreadful evenings in Manchester. Then, it seemed that no matter what Jadon did or said, in public or in private, his actions were misconstrued, his words twisted up by a manager who was determined to misunderstand him.

She tried, in those moments, to do what she could to help. The days she got home before him, she would order his favorite meals - spicy curry goat and rice-, queue his favorite 90's American movies, and bring him tea before bed. When they settled beneath the covers, she would rub his back and pet his hair, his hands clutching at every part of her he could reach, and their heartbeats echoing. Some nights his dry lips would press against her throat, whispering, confessing. I just wanna play. After a while, she never knew how to respond. “It’s gonna be okay” was the truth of what she believed, but she knew that words, however heart-felt, were not what he needed to hear. He just needed her to be there.

And so she was.

And now, here they are.

Regardless the color of the kit- this is where Jadon belonged. On a green, frost-bitten field, panting, his face frozen and his lungs burning. Blitzing defenders and setting up his teammates, performing how the world always knew he could and giving everything to push the team toward a win.

As long as he can be somewhere, and doing this, she thinks, a future will sort itself out. She’s sure.

He flits his way down the wing, and she imagines she can see the fire in his eyes all the way from her seat. The ice block resting in her stomach begins to melt away in its heat. By the time he delivers the assist, Marco flying into the box to tap the cross home, there’s nothing left but a puddle, quickly drying up.

—--

She beats the team coach back to Dortmund and looks up from her phone when the players begin to file out. Their shoulders are hunched against the cold, but even from a distance she can tell the three points, the clean sheet have lifted the daunting weight beginning to rest there. When she walks closer, she can even see the grins, hear the jokes and banter flying in a mix of German, Dutch, and English. She says a quick hello to Gio and Jamie when they pass, and congratulates Mouki on his goal, and it’s a lovely moment, - she’s more than pleased to see their faces, to be back among them. She’s almost taken by surprise when Jadon comes up behind her, sliding an arm across her shoulders.

“Baby,” She jumps into him, circling her arms around Jadon’s neck while he squeezes around her middle. They are in the middle of Germany but that spot between his neck and shoulder smells just like the body wash and cologne he uses at home, and for a second she isn’t sure she can let go. His new, old teammates still surround them, respectfully ignoring their PDA, but it’s all she can do to not kiss him on the mouth right there, in front of them all. “An assist first day back? You were born to do this, you know.”

“Yeah? You think so?”

The crest on her yellow BVB hat scratches against his coat as she nods.

“Yeah, it felt good, innit. Good to be back.”

She pulls away an inch to look in his face, at his cute nose which is pale from the cold, at the relief and fatigue and shine in his eyes which is back and which she hasn’t seen in long months. She cups his cheeks in her hands as she speaks, feeling her own grin spreading, making sure he hears what she’s saying, and feels it too. “I’m so proud of you, Jadon. And no matter what else happens, I’m gonna be here.”

Her words and their sincerity make Jadon smile, too, and he turns his head, kissing into the center of her palm, and nuzzling his fuzzy cheek there. His eyes slip closed for the briefest second. Y/N isn’t sure that her own eyes aren’t watering --she’s that happy for him, she loves him that much-- but is hastily wiping any moisture away when she catches sight of the platinum blonde standing just over Jadon’s left shoulder.

“Marcinho,”

“Y/N!” She and Jadon separate long enough for her to offer the midfielder a tight squeeze that he returns in kind. Save for a short chat after a match in the USA in the summer, it has been years now, since she last saw him. “It is so good to see you again. How are things in England?”

“Everything is good, but I have missed it here, to be honest. We’re both happy to be back.”

“I am happy to hear this. You were taking good care of our boy while he was away, yes?” Marco asks in the same light-hearted tone, but she can tell his meaning hints at something deeper. Marco knows what the past years have been like.

“Yeah, I was. Someone’s got to keep him out of trouble, you know?” She looks over to Jadon who is sucking his teeth, his eyes almost rolling. “He’s wild, this one.”

“Nah, I’m a good boy. Marco knows.” Jadon defends himself with little success, as the former captain is cackling in disbelief and ruffling his hair.

“Yes, I know exactly what you are like. That’s why it is good that you are back here, we will at least try to make you normal. Now come,”

Jadon steps away to wrap his friend and teammate in an embrace, and then he tucks her back underneath his arm, their fingers are interlocked, and they’re saying not goodbye, but “see you later”. The walk to the car is short, but it seems as if Jadon still has a lot to say.

“Thank you for comin here with me, baby. Know it was a bit crazy, the schedule and everything so rushed. Know you’re tired, even though you pretend not.”

Y/N shakes her head, even as the adrenaline rush of the past 48 hours has begun to wane, and the physical and emotional toll of a mid-season loan has begun to set in. It doesn’t change her answer in the slightest. “You don’t have to thank me for that, Jadon. I’m happy to be here.”

“No, but, I mean–” It’s Jadon's turn to command her attention, as if he hasn’t been doing just that all evening since he walked on the pitch, from the first time they saw each other on a night in south London, and every day since then. His eyes are wide and shimmering, and he finds it’s easy to speak to her, even if the memories are difficult. “It’s been hard, lately, innit. Really hard. And you been there, even when I was … even when it was hard. And I’m happier now, but you put up with me when I wasn’t. And that helped me to get here, so. Thank you.”

She does lean up to kiss him this time, but the car is hidden enough and she is too in love to care whether his teammates or coaching staff watch. Jadon, whose hand has raised to cradle her neck, his tongue pushing against her lips, doesn’t seem to mind either.

“I love you, baby." He bumps their noses together. "Don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Her breath flutters over him when she replies, telling him how she loves him back, how there's no place she'd rather be, in a small voice that's almost a whisper. Jadon is smirking, licking and biting his lips like he’s preparing to go in for more, but instead says Look, and tilts her chin to take in the twinkling stars crowding the purple-black sky above.

She was sure before that she had stopped crying, but Jadon’s hands are holding her so gently, his mouth is so soft, his eyes are so full of everything, that the tears may have returned. Because by night, like this, Dortmund is just how she remembers it. The sky is cold and dark but Jadon’s body next to hers, his hand along her throat is warm. The ice block in her belly is evaporated. They’re both a couple of years older and painfully wiser, but the thin, quaint streets that will take them back to the hotel, the taste of Jadon’s lips on her skin, are familiar.

The future opening up ahead of them is bright as a shining #10, as a yellow BVB hat.

As bright as they both make it.

[forbebeandjam]

omg can't wait for audrey's!!!!! thank youuuuuu (⁠ʃ⁠ƪ⁠＾⁠3⁠＾⁠）

Fear | Audrey Lane x Fem Reader | Fluff

Summary: a small misunderstanding leads you and your girlfriend, Audrey to end up on bad terms. Three months later, you realize how much you love each other.

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: a bit angst. Brain tumor mention.

A/N: sorry if it’s a bit unrealistic. I know it’s not my best work. I’m not a medic or doctor… enjoyyyy •u•

~🫧♥︎🫧~

You and Audrey had been working nonstop on a new K-pop choreography. Being a part of the Jam Republic dance crew has been a milestone in your career. You went from being a small and heavily criticized TikTok dancer who covered K-pop dance to a successful choreographer.

Having Nick reach out to you to be part of this project was perfect as he had also contacted your girlfriend, Audrey. You couldn't believe that you and Audrey got to dance together and spend time together as well.

However your schedules were packed and after the show, there were some things you two couldn't do together. She was booked doing the brand new show Street Dance Girls Fighter 2 and you were booked creating new choreographies and interviews.

One day you finally got to see her but you were too tired. She seemed to be really excited to hang out with you and you were just thinking of going home.

"What if we take a walk? and then we can go camping," she suggested but you shook your head.

"Sorry, Audrey. I'm drained and I just want to lay down," you said bluntly. One thing about you is that you could be very oblivious to others' feelings when you weren't feeling well... not to mention minor anger issues that almost caused you major trouble with Mannequeen.

"Well, what if we just go for some ice cream? Or maybe something to eat?" She said once again with her bubbly voice trying to get you out of bed and spend quality time together. It's Audrey. She was always bubbly and you lived for her but at this moment, tiredness hit you like a truck.

"Jeez, I said no. I'll just be in my room," you said in an aggravated tone leaving her behind on the couch.

You took painkillers for your headache and as you lay on your bed you heard soft sobs making your heart clench at the sounds. You know you fucked up. You promised to never make her cry and you just did. As you tried to get up to apologize, you felt your body collapse on the floor and you were unable to get up. Your vision immediately became dark.

-

You woke up and saw a bright light. You definitely weren't home. Your house was green and the lights were almost always dimmed. This room was too blue.

Your eyes tried to adjust and you groaned. You felt someone grip your hand tightly but the voice was almost unrecognizable as your ears also tried adjusting to the noise.

"Audrey..." was the first thing that escaped your lips. You called her name. You wanted to apologize and when your vision finally cleared up, you saw her sitting on the side of the hospital bed holding your hand and asking if you were okay. Her eyes were red and teary as well as her nose as she let out sniffles.

You felt your heart clench at her sight. You made her cry twice. You never meant for any of this to happen. As you tried to get up your poising headache pulled you back to the bed.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, baby. Please forgive me," you said as a tear escaped your eye. Her head shook repeatedly.

"Don't apologize. I didn't realize you felt this bad and I should've known. I should've made you rest and taken care of you," she said as she lowered her head.

"Audrey, it's okay. I'm okay, see?" You said as you kissed her hand.

"You're not. Sorry to tell you this ma'am but you have a brain tumor. You need surgery and treatment as well as absolute rest for around three months. We need to do this now or you might not make it another month," the doctor said. You didn't protest. You knew it would be best if you wanted to keep living the life that you have. You wanted to be with Audrey.

"Audrey?" You said when you saw how she was holding in her sobs and cries. She turned to look at you with red eyes and you began to cry as well.

"I love you. I love you so much and I will be with you forever," you said.

"Don't... it sounds like you're saying goodbye," she said.

"I know you have to catch a flight. You have to go back home. Go work on your projects, baby. And come back to me in three months," you said and she started to shake her head.

"I can't leave you. Who will take care of you? Who is going to make sure you're okay? I want to make sure you wake up and you can see me and..." you moved your hand on her cheek and she stopped talking. She shut her eyes tightly and pressed her lips on your hand.

"I will be okay, baby. I have to go now but never forget that I love you so much," you kissed her one last time before the nurse took you away.

-

(Three months later)

It was finally the day. The day Audrey would come back and you could be together again. This time you promised you would never let her go and would never make her cry.

You heard the doorbell and rushed to the door. You fixed my clothes and hair before taking a deep breath and finally took ahold of the doorknob. You twisted it and there she was. A big smile and a beautiful gold light radiating from her. Her eyes seemed to be teary and her smile was shaking.

She immediately dropped her bags and ran to you. She grabbed your face a kissed you tenderly. It was a long-awaited kiss. Three months felt like an eternity without her. How could someone live without that gorgeous smile? It's a smile you would die for.

"You have no idea how much I missed you," she said as she buried her face down your neck. Her sobs began to fill your ears and your tears began to roll down your face.

"I missed you too," you said as you kissed her head.

"How about we get out of here? I have a surprise for you," you said and she looked at you with a confused expression.

"But you need to rest more. What if-" Audrey started but you stopped her by shaking your head.

"I'm okay. We aren't doing anything that might be straining. Let's go," you said as you put on your shoes and jacket and walked out of the door with her. She was too quiet for your liking but you didn't say anything as you saw her fidgeting with her hands in the car. You knew she was nervous.

After around thirty minutes you arrived at a camping site and got out of the car to open her door. A small smile was painted on her lips.

"You didn't forget about the camping date?" She asked.

"I could never forget about your favorite thing. Your pink curly hair, the sweet perfume you use, the way you move when you dance. It's all engraved in my head. Let's set up and watch a movie," you said as you walked to get our things from the trunk.

A few hours later you had everything set up and ate dinner. The sun was starting to slowly set creating a beautiful orange and pink hue in the sky. Audrey was silently sitting on a chair looking at the sky as she took small sips of her tea. Your biggest fears began to fill your head like poison.

'Does she not love me anymore? Is there someone else? Did she find someone that treats her better?'

"Audrey, come here," you said and she turned to you. She stood up and placed her mug on the chair. As she walked to you, you immediately cupped her face with your warm hands and planted a kiss on her lips.

"Whatever is on your mind, tell me," you said as you broke the kiss.

"It's just all surreal. I thought I was going to lose you and not being able to contact you due to work was killing me and now that I'm here, I just feel like I should've been here all along," she said.

You immediately connected your forehead to hers. You wanted her to forget about everything and anything that happened in the past.

"Baby, you're here now and I couldn't ask for more. You're all I need and I just want to be with you. Enjoy the moment, my sweet girl," you said and kissed her forehead.

That seemed to make all of her worries melt away. Her mind was clear and her heart warm. She smiled brightly for the first time and a small tear escaped her eye. You kissed it dry and she let out a small giggle that melted your heart.

Setting up for bed was quick and soon you realized that you had forgotten her sleeping bag back home. You scratched your head and chuckled nervously.

"Sorry, babe. I forgot your sleeping bag," you said.

"It's okay. We can sleep in the same one," she said as she got situated. She looked up at you and you nodded. You got inside the bag and spooned her, sharing the warmth of your body as a movie played on your iPad.

Suddenly, she turned to face you, completely ignoring the movie. You were lost in her eyes and you shared a moment of silence.

She reached to peck your lips and you finally saw her purest smile.

"I don't know how I managed to be with you for so long. I'll never leave you again. Promise you'll never scare me like that again," she said as she buried her face in your chest.

"I'm sorry baby, I'll never do it again..."

There was a small pause and you pulled back from the hug.

"We fit perfectly in this sleeping bag don't you think?" You asked.

"Yes. We are perfect," she said before snuggling close to you.

“I love you,” You kissed her forehead and you both drifted into a deep slumber.

Thank you for reading!!🩷

[shunshunrika]

Hi, for your recent event, I hope you can consider this request! 💖

FLUFF 7 + SMUT 27 + Gojo Satoru + (no kink specified: up to author!)

₊˚Ꮚ𓂅୨⊹ OBSESSION - GOJO SATORU

warnings - SMUT, afab! reader, mirror sex, dacryphilia, humiliation, overstimulation, recording, oral (m! and f! receiving), facial, dirty talk, squirting, pet-names, not proofread.

MDNI, 18+ only!!!!

a/n: Satoruuu, why are you THAT hot? also, can't believe this is my first toru smut? I'm a toru account..what??

Gojo Satoru, your very own boyfriend, usually known as the man who knows everything, doesn't know about your obsession with him.

Yeah, you have been dating him for a bit over 6 months now and yet, you keep forgetting that you are. You are still in your 'crush' headspace after all this time. Probably because Gojo Satoru is internet famous and a lot of people, like you, are in love with him. It totally gives you an existential crisis sometimes - that you are not one of those fangirls, but his actual girlfriend. That doesn't soothe your tendencies though.

You still steal glances at him and find your cheeks turning red-hot, you find ways to sneak a peek at his naked, steamy form when he's done showering, hell you will even read fanfiction about him and save particularly juicy fanart if you come across it. Recently, you had come across certain pictures of his, drawn by a very talented artist - (bless, you even tipped her anonymously)

Ever since then, it has been the photo that adorns your phone screen. Obviously, you had a different lock screen since you didn't want Satoru to know but you could ogle at this art of Satoru all you wanted in secrecy. Satoru never knew you had this side to you. He always felt you were the more independent one emotionally and he was clingy. Little did he know though. It felt indecent, childish but you loved your little secret all the more.

You had gone a few weeks without Satoru ever noticing until one day, in the middle of the supermarket, Satoru needed your phone to look at the grocery list.

"I put down ice-cream in there, baby. Did you remove it again?" Satoru whined rather loudly. A few women passing by chuckled at the two of you, bantering in the aisle.

"Satoru. We don't need ice-cream every week, okay? Do you love your dentist more than me?" is your rebuttal.

"She's prettier..." Satoru hums to himself, earning a slap on his back from you, making him chuckle.

"Well if not ice-cream, what's left..." Satoru started scrolling through the list until he seemed to have found something.

"Oh, what's this?" he asked, rhetorically. "Wow."

For a second, you feel an ominous air. You stop dead in your tracks and feel the urge to look at what Satoru is looking at. Sure enough, his blue eyes reflect the half-naked art of his own silhouette, vibrant in all its glory right on your home-screen. You almost forget how to breathe when you snatch the phone out of his hands aggressively.

"S-Satoru, I-"

"Y/N, seriously?" he asked, amused.

“Am I your wallpaper?”

“You weren’t supposed to see that!” you exclaim, a bit too loud for a public place. You calm yourself down and clear your throat before continuing. "u-uh. I thought it looked, uh, good...so"

"Y/N!" his face cringed up. "Oh my lord, you love me that much. And here I used to think you found another man because you keep ignoring me!" Satoru pouted quietly, still eyeing your phone. You could sense the onlookers' eyes bore a hole through your back so at this point, you just grabbed Satoru and made a run for the billing line. After you were in your car, you finally breathed a sigh of relief. Satoru still wouldn't shut up about the picture on the ride home as you drove. He had convinced you to hand him your phone so he could look at the picture better from all angles. What he was looking at, only he knew.

You were so happy he hadn't figured out that there were more.

"Huh..."

Another bout of unease. You perhaps spoke too soon.

"THERE'S MORE?" he exclaimed so loud while swiping left and right, you almost slammed your breaks.

"Satoru! Stop that!" you screamed. "Give me back my phone!" you lurched at him trying to get your device filled with his lewd pictures back.

"Y/N, are you really that horny for me?" He asked genuinely.

"You should've told me 4 times a week was still insufficient for you."

"Satoru, please." at this point you were so embarrassed, your eyes were tearing up. You didn't wait for his response, parked and ran straight into your house, kicking off your shoes. He could keep the phone, do whatever. He could think you are a freak, or obsessed, or gross or whatever! You sniffed as you climbed into your king-sized bed and hugged yourself. This was so humiliating!

"Y/N? You cryin'?" Satoru was right on your heels without you realizing. He climbed into the bed with you, dropping your phone on the side table.

"Are you embarrassed about it?" he asked, scooting to be beside you, his arm on your wait and his lips on your ear. "You embarrassed that your dirty little secret is out now?" He said, sliding two fingers up your shorts and rubbing your little nub through your panties. You bit your lip, pressing your thighs together and trapping his wrist there. When he realized that he was trapped, he proceeded to pinch your nub lightly making you yelp.

"Stop teasing me!" you whimpered, your voice breaking halfway through and your vision blurry with tears.

"Nope. I want you to cry more than that, but let's do this a bit differently." he said, getting up and picking you up along with him, bridal style. He was so strong it was practically effortless for him to carry you like you were a doll. He carried you away from the bed and you wondered where he was taking you.

"Let's switch the environment a bit, shall we?" he said, laying you down on the carpet in front of a full-size mirror that lay in the corner of his room. The mirror was large enough to show you and him. You thought he was too tall for it.

"You won't need these." Satoru said, pulling at your clothes. "Off with them." he commanded, stripping himself of his shirt while facing the mirror. You could see the intricate pattern of every solid muscle on his torso and abdomen as he got rid of his clothing and you did too. You noticed how pretty your body looked and how prettier it looked bare, sitting right below Satoru's own bare body. His length hung right over your head, semi-hard already.

"How should we do this?" he put a finger to his chin, pondering.

"W-what are we doing?" you asked frantically, unsure of what was about to unfold other than the two of you having s*x in front of the mirror.

"I'm thinking." Satoru got down on his back and pointed at his face. "Sit on me and face the mirror."

You gulped when you thought of how that would look in the mirror. Your legs spread out atop Satoru's gorgeous face and you having access to his abs and his hard-on.

You quickly followed what he told you and sank onto his waiting mouth, moaning out load when you felt his tongue beginning to explore your insides. Satoru grabbed your asscheeks and lifted you up ever so slightly so you could see in the mirror, how his tongue entered in and out, at a steady pace, before setting you back down onto him. Gosh, that looked so lewd...

"What should I do?" you asked, more to yourself than to Satoru. You started out with tracing his taut abs and you saw in the mirror how your fingers filled in the ridges and crannies. Your hands finally snaked their way to his towering dick. You bent yourself forward in order to reach his dick with your mouth as his torso was too long and it ended up making you lift your ass off Satoru's face. He growled and pressed on your hips to make you sit back onto his face. You struggled to stretch out this was for a few seconds until you found a comfortable angle.

You made eye-contact with your reflection as you licked the tip of Satoru's length softly. His head looked so raw and pink, it was cute. you smiled at it before placing a kiss on it. This made Satoru groan into your hole and made you sigh too.

"Pretty 'toru cock." you commented, taking it in your mouth little by little. You were surprised how large it looked, sheathed in your mouth. It created a bulge on your left cheek as you looked at your lewd, horny self in the mirror - eyes half lidded, saliva escaping from your packed mouth, hair astray. Satoru never let his rhythm falter, as he chugged his tongue deep into your crevices, lapping up every ounce of your juice as soon as your walls were coated with a fresh layer.

His fingers were probably leaving marks on your ass now, but you loved it when they did that. Your plump ass marked with Satoru's fingers. You hollowed your cheeks out, taking in more and more till your nose connected with his pelvic bone. The tufts of fine hair on his crotch tickled your nose as you stayed there, feeling his shaft sit comfortably in your throat, like it was a glove meant just for Satoru. Meanwhile, you swirled your tongue all around his length, paying attention to each vein and the underside of the dick. You brought your hands up to his sack to toy with it - gently rubbing at the twin balls and resisting the urge to squeeze them. He noticed what you were doing and brought his own hand to your nub, rubbing at it fervently.

"Oh honey, you know, you really shouldn't tease me." he purred and you moaned right into his dick, quivering as Satoru made you lose your sanity. This was a competition now, who would cum first. You were desperate to win after how humiliated you felt. You increased your pace with your mouth around his shaft and start pumping the bottom to add to his pleasure.

"Nghh." he groaned out under you, losing focus.

"That's it Satoru." you mumbled with a mouth full of cock, feeling him come closer to his peak. "Put it all on my face, please."

"I want to drink all of it."

That was enough to send Satoru over the edge and you removed your mouth just in time for him to paint your face white. You were so f*cked out yourself that you let his thick jizz go wherever it wanted to, inside your nostrils, back in your mouth, on your eyelids. Some even fell on his hairy crotch which you kitten-licked at diligently.

"Get all of it, don't leave a single drop behind." Satoru told you as he continued his assault on your womanhood from the behind. You looked at yourself in the mirror, deranged looking - face covered in ropes of his cum and your tongue picking up the leftovers from his pubes. What a mess. Beautiful.

"Say cheese, Y/n." you suddenly heard Satoru say as he started humming into your hole. The vibrations and his tongue were enough to push you over and cum monstrously onto his mouth so much so that you didn't notice what he was doing. You cum painted face was contorting in pleasure and you wondered what sort of expression you were making. You heard the sound of a camera flash but couldn't care less, you enjoyed your bliss for a few more seconds with tears rolling down your cheeks, mixing with Satoru's cum, until you finally looked back to see what Satoru was up to.

"Wow. what a masterpiece." he said, showing you the picture, he just captured on his phone. It looked like art. Your face, the scene, the mirror, everything in it.

"I'm going to use this as my wallpaper now." Satoru said mischievously, earning a grimace from you.

"Satoru- you-" you began saying with a sigh, trying to get off of him but Satoru won't let go. He made you sit back down on him and grabbed at your breasts blindly.

"Where are you going, I'm not done with your pretty hole yet." he said, plunging his tongue yet again into your insides, making you screech.

"O-ow. Wait." you hissed, tearing up. "I'm still sensitive."

"Cry it out. You look so pretty like that." he said, pinching and pulling at the erect nipples on your breasts making you hum in pleasure and pain.

"Oh my goodness." You exclaimed and kept exclaiming until once more, Satoru's chin was drenched in your juices.

"Okay, stop now." you said.

"No, princess." he said devilishly. "Not yet."

You were now seriously questioning whether you would lose your sanity. This time, your walls were even dry and yet you felt something bubble up in your abdomen while Satoru's mouth sucked your nether lips dry.

"Oh, oh!" was the only thing you were able to say as you saw yourself in the mirror and a second later, liquid sprayed out of you and straight onto the mirror. You kept spraying the mirror in bursts, with your head thrown back until you were so weak, you fell forward, your face next to Satoru's limp c*ck.

Satoru finally let go of your ass and gently pushed you off of him, inspecting your face.

"Well." he said, getting closer to the mirror and licking some of the liquid off of it.

"If you need a picture of me as your wallpaper, I'll send you nudes baby." he pulled your cheek as you smiled, watching him set off for the bathroom, humming a tune only he knew, as you let yourself drift into dreamland full of naked Satorus.

[mumiyah]

𓂀𓋹𓆣 Rules.𓂀𓋹𓆣

INTRO: Hello! I’m Ramone, 24, they/them. Ancient Egypt has been a special interest of mine since childhood, as has Bat.man/D.C comics in general (I grew up with some cartoons). I enjoy creating original interpretations of villains/rogues from the Bat.man series, as it lets me play around with different perspectives and outcomes. You may have seen me from my various other blogs, such as sifonie, joque, and bonesmade! Fatimah here is another example of my original interpretation collection, and I hope you find her fun to interact with, as I’ve put personal knowledge/interest and research into crafting her.

IMPORTANT NOTES/DISCLAIMERS: I am not writing Kin.g Tu.t himself. I do not write rpf (real person fiction). Fatimah only believes she is him when she experiences an episode of psychosis. I have two degrees (and 6 years of experience) in psychology, meaning that I have put care and research into creating her. Still, I may get things wrong at times due to me not having personal experience with bipolar I disorder nor psychosis. If I write something that seems incorrect/harmful, please let me know politely and I will absolutely correct myself. I am open to listening to others about their experiences. I am aware of the stereotype that people who experience psychosis are violent. That belief is actually false and is usually an argument used against people with mental illness in order to harm them.

That being said, please read these notes here in addition to her biography/about page. They go in depth about her bipolar I disorder, and I thought it’d be important to discuss specifically what her symptoms are/how it affects her, as it is something that will come up in interactions.

This blog is 21+. Minors do not interact. Personals do not interact unless you have a roleplay sideblog. Please communicate that you have a sideblog with me if it is not linked somewhere that I can easily find it. Do not reblog threads that you are not a part of. Do not reblog my headcanons if they do not relate to your character nor steal any of my content.

GENERAL: Do not rush me for replies. Roleplay is a hobby, not a job. This is a mindset I extend to my writing partners as well. I would rather wait for a reply than have my partner feel forced and rushed, which can lead to burnout. A reminder or two is welcome, however, if you feel I've overlooked our thread. My goal for roleplay is to make friends, have good, lasting ooc/ic connections, and have fun creating stories with people.

GODMODDING/COMMUNICATION: While Fatimah does have powers/abilities, any major or disastrous effects will be discussed with the writing partner. I do not want to godmod, nor do I want anyone else to do so with me. Let's discuss major fights/injuries/death before they happen!! That being said, I want to foster open communication. Please tell me if I've overstepped or crossed a boundary, if I have gotten something wrong about your muse, or if I have upset you otherwise. I would prefer to talk it out so that I can correct my behavior for the future. I can misread tone over text on occasion, so if I ask for a clarification, I am trying to understand what you are saying better. Muse does not equal mun and vice versa.

ACTIVITY: My activity is slow and can vary per week/month depending on my life circumstances. I am currently looking for a job, which will be full-time, so that will take up some of my time. I also struggle with mental illness of my own, so I may not have energy or motivation to be on and writing. Please don't take any periods of inactivity personally, I may just be having a rough month or am catching up on other blogs of mine. My muse level can vary, but I find that keeping up ooc conversations about a muse keeps them high muse and active. Again, please don't rush or pressure me for replies. Please do not guilt me if I only have energy to answer asks or short things for a period of time.

INTERACTIONS/FORMATTING: I adore asks/memes and like to use them as icebreakers or to get interactions started. Send as many as you'd like and don't be scared to send some. My slowness does not equal disinterest. Plotting is optional, as I know it can be difficult to do off the bat if some muses aren't from the same franchise/fandom. However, I do try my best to plot when the time comes and find it enjoyable when muses really click. I would like to plot any action-heavy threads, just so I can have a bit of an idea of how to approach the situation. It doesn't have to be in-depth, but a little guidance is beneficial to me.

I do not use icons, just bolds/italics and sometimes small text to match the formatting of whoever I'm writing with. I do not do any special spacing or colored text.

TRIGGERS: Triggers that may be found on this blog include descriptions and depictions of mental illness, as well as violence/death/murder. These will all be tagged to the best of my ability. If I am unsure of how to tag something, I try to use 'ask to tag' so anyone may approach me with specifics. I do read rules and make note of any triggers I see there, but please reach out if I have missed a tag.

My triggers include pregnancy, suggestive/smutty content, and chainmail messages.

SHIPPING: Fatimah's age range is 19-21, therefore I will not romantically ship her with anyone older than 25. I will not ship her with anyone under 18, either. Other ships are game, such as familial, platonic, enemies, etc. If you have a dynamic you want to write, please come to me with it! I'd love to try things out.

Smut or suggestive content (as she is an adult) may or may not happen depending on my comfort level and if I have any romantic ships or not. If it does happen, it will be tagged with usfw tw and usfw if smut, and suggestive and suggestive tw if anything suggestive. I do not mind writing it, despite it being listed as a trigger above, because I can control what I write and set boundaries/can consent to what I am seeing.

[theinkedfoxsl]

was that questions post like an oc ask game but for you instead? i bet other people have asked questions but i want ALL OF THEM. bc i think u are so cool. please :3 n for 36: what is your very favorite time of day and why?

HHHHHHH

What is your nickname?

Len :3

When is your birthday?

I don't celebrate it! But I celebrate my name day on October 29th

What was your longest relationship?

5 years this June with Henrik :D

What is your favorite book?

Ripper by Stefan Petrucha. I was obsessed with it as a child

What is something you're insecure about?

Rn? My voice cracks. They're pretty bad with where I'm at on T and they embarrass me

5 Male celebrity crushes

Pedro Pascal, Joaquin Phoenix, Nic Cage, Ryan Gosling, and Hugh Jackman

5 Female celebrity crushes

Can I put Natalie Dormer for all of them? But her, Salma Hayek, Nicole Kidman, Jessica Alba, and Kesha!

What is your dream job?

I wanted to be a writer for a game company.

What do you consider your biggest accomplishment?

Landing Henrik- uhm but no, finishing the Ambros Twins. It meant a lot to me, and I put in a lot of work for it. Even if I don't go there anymore.

What is a fact about you that nobody would believe?

ALL OF MY WEIRD FACTS PEOPLE GO "that makes sense" SO IDK?? I'm afraid of the ocean?

What were your highs and lows for this last month?

Eugh,, the lady at the blood clinic has been really transphobic and ableist to me the last two times I've went and its really sucked. Today was particularly bad cause the barista and some random girls were also quite rude. But! I ordered my cane and I'm so so excited to get it! I also got a skin I wanted in Outlast Trials!

Where is somewhere you'd like to visit?

I wanna go back to Germany, it was so nice. But I want to visit Munich next time!

How do you de-stress?

Stressful video games :3

What are your favorite apps besides tumblr?

Discord! All my friends are in there.

Describe yourself in one sentence.

Exhausted and blunt but kind

What do you think makes you attractive?

My fierce determination to make things work even when I'm on a wire. The people I love, I love dearly. And they know that. I think its an attractive quality to have, to care so deeply about others.

What is something you're really good at?

Writing! I'm also really good at listening.

What is something you're really bad at?

ADVICE- I can listen but not give advice. I'm also fucking awful at soulslike games we've discovered (nobody is surprised)

A time that you told a lie.

Pretty much every day. I'm a compulsive liar, I'm working on it.

What's a totally random and useless fact that you know?

Some ladybugs can have no spots!

Who knows you the best?

Rowan or Henrik I think

What is your most prized possession?

My engagement ring.

What is your longest friendship?

MAX! I've known him since I was 16! Almost ten years yeesh

When did you first feel like an adult?

I still don't sometimes. But I'd just moved into my apartment on the lake to be closer to my job and I was sitting on this empty living room floor and I realised that I was well and truly alone. I wasn't a child at home anymore. I was alone and I was an adult.

Do you/ Have you played any sports?

I played volleyball, baseball, and I did track.

How are you feeling right now?

Like I said bad day, so I'm a bit sad. But I'm watching Max play Lies of P and I'm hanging with friends so hopefully better soon.

Are you an early bird or a night owl?

Night owl

Do you believe in love at first sight?

Chemical reaction at first sight lol

Favorite song lyrics right now?

"I'm blinded, how am I to find a path that's righteous?"

What does self care look like for you?

iced coffee and nap

Describe yourself with 3 singers.

Tonight Alive, Icon for Hire, Hollywood Undead

What makes you nervous?

everything

What’s a pet peeve you have?

CUTTING ME OFF CAUSE I WALK WEIRD GO AWAY

What will always make you cry?

Tadashi ):

What kind of first impression do you think you make on people?

Unpleasant. A lot of people don't like me. That's okay

what is your very favorite time of day and why?

3am! When I'm hanging out and its dark and things are quiet and I can just breathe

[healthyskillz]

Long post! #trigger warning weight

So here are my 2023 No S Diet statistics:

- an average of 80% compliance over the entire year 💪🏼🎉🥳 (yes! That was my goal)

- a new record of months 🌟 scored 80% or higher

I have been doing No S for about 6 years now and have been tracking my compliance for 4. It has helped me tremendously in breaking free from disordered eating habits but I am going to add some new rules that I believe are necessary for me personally. (If you want to read more about the basic principles of No S, check out www.nosdiet.com, there also is a book).

This was the first year I added the extra options or "colors" into my habit tracker. In "Vanilla No S" they use 3: green (success), yellow (exempt) and red (fail). But the all-or-nothing mindset is something I have struggled with my whole life and that did not help with overcoming binge eating ("Oh no, I slipped up. Might as well eat more junk today"). The extra color and half score options gave me a chance to make a U-turn and not go down the path of no return.

So, a couple of days ago I posted about how I gave myself permission to eat junk and didn't binge... Well, it kind of went downhill after that. I consider myself recovered from binge eating disorder but I think I have to accept this will always be a problem for me. That is why I'm adding the color BLACK (for a binge) back into the system, forever. To remind myself where I came from. I am an overeater, I need to accept that and remain conscious of it.

S days (exempt days/weekend days/special days) therefore remain a problem for me. I tend to go crazy on these FREE/"all is permitted" days. At first I didn't want to make too many extra rules out of fear of making myself feel deprived, but I feel like now I'm ready and also that it is necessary (ice cream followed by potato chips and cookies in one sitting just doesn't feel like how a normal person would eat). So that is why I am incorporating a new rule for S days: one treat allowed in between meals. This still allows for 3 treats per S day, which is more than enough.

I feel good about these plans (My Rainbow No S 🌈😁) and look forward to learning how to take better care of myself so I can focus on other important things. ❤️

[twisted-tales-told]

this is so fun!! telling u ab where i'd go if money wasn't an issue <3

first, my dad's 50th birthday is next year in june. i'm likely going to be abroad then, but at some point during the year i'd take him and all my siblings to ireland!! my dad visited me there last year and absolutely loved it and i know he'd love to go back and i also must show my siblings how wonderful it is. we'd also take the train up to NI for a few days to see derry, belfast, and giant's causeway!!

second, the summer after my best friend and i graduate uni (2025!!) i'd take us both to south korea for at least a month, maybe 6 weeks. we've wanted to take a similar trip for years now, our plan is roughly 10 days but if money isn't a problem might as well go for longer right? korea is such an amazing country and i really want to soak in everything...we'd have to explore seoul, busan, jeju island, the dmz, anywhere we can really.

lastly, my mom turns 50 in 2026, and so i'd take her, all my siblings, and my grandma to italy and southern france. it's a trip we've all wanted to do for a really long time and my mom really loves europe <3 (she's backpacked there 3 times?? like that's so cool)

there's obviously so many more places i want to go but these r the big trips i want to take!!

This ask game

Oh my GODDD THOSE TRIPS SOUND SO FUN I have always wanted to go to Ireland!!! I love nature and lakes + rainy weather and Ireland has all of that! And there’s so much culture!!

I have family in Korea!! My uncle runs a restaurant there & I have been wanting to visit him for awhile too! It’s a sushi place I believe!

Italy is so fucking special!! I reccomend Ferrara as a place it’s really small but it’s so charming and has the best ice cream in the whole world!! And I’ve had ice cream in 28 countries!!

[lovelyspring7]

OMFGGGGGGGGGGGGG

I can't believe you answered my ask, I read it again to get some ideas

but even though yn went to jk's room they didn't do anything sexual he fell asleep cuddling her and she stayed up all night scared suspicious of the possibility of yn running away, he hires someone to approach yn with the purpose of being her friend and finding out what she is doing yn ends up seeing an ex boyfriend who returned to the city they broke up because the ex moved to another country your ex asks you out for ice cream yn makes excuses not to have lunch with jk because she is still scared the person who was hired takes pictures of them together and tells jk yn is now prohibited from going out without jk at all times she has a security guard with her ex becomes a new target jk constantly threatens yn saying he will kill his ex as much as yn is not in love with her ex, jk insists that she was wanting to cheat on him jk hires female teachers to teach college classes at home jk takes yn on walks or trips so she doesn't get bored but everything accompanied by security yn starts feeling disgusted with jk which makes him even crazier yn stops trying to talk about this madness and after a while she doesn't answer anything and doesn't even look him in the eye jk feeling rejected becomes a little more aggressive with words but yn remains silent investing some papers in the office YN finds about the people hired and photos of her with her ex yn confronts jk who doesn't understand why she's mad since she belongs to him missing yn's touch, in this moment of confrontation jk forces kisses and touches yn's body squeezing jk tells her to be what they were before or he would kill his ex in front of her and commit an act he was holding back on for a long time (r4p3) little by little yn gives in and talks to jk, she goes back to studying at another college and they go back to having lunch together that's not enough for jk anymore he needs to feel yn's kisses it starts with kisses on the neck, on the cheek, hands on the waist but yn ends up slowly pulling away jk is losing jk buys shorter and tighter clothes just for yn to wear for him, she can only wear his clothes or whatever he tells her at events he says that yn is his fiancée he demands caresses, kisses, attention, wants her to always sit on his lap jk doesn't want kids, he doesn't want her to have her attention on someone else yn is tired of this yn needs to find an opportunity to escape, gather all the jewels and money to be able to escape

I didn't think too much ahead hahahhahha it's okay if you don't like it, the gaps could be filled with your ideas I also imagined JK less aggressive and more needy kneeling down and humiliating himself because he thinks yn is cheating on him something like that

Anyway I'm genuinely looking forward to the sequel I've never been so involved in a fic like yours love u I will wait for your answer

Omg… I’m at loss for words. Have you ever though about wiring?🤩 You had so many amazing ideas! Seriously it’s enough to write a third part. Now this really inspired me to write again🤍

I’m gonna try to keep it as a surprise but now at least I know what direction I wanna go in.

Expect a second part this month, ily🩷

[jezebelblues]

girlll apparently you can use tiktok now but if you’ve deleted it already you can’t download it again??? can you confirm if this is true cause i’m spiraling and im not even in america (im also a tiktok hater) #reels4ever

#reels4never D:

yes! it’s true. i never deleted it and i was able to get on around noon. though there’s a bunch of people that’re speculating it’s been sold to meta already. but there’s no proof of it. i believe capcut and flip are still off the app store as well.

to give u a small rundown: the biden administration announced that since the inauguration is tomorrow they wouldn’t be forcing the tiktok ban and it’ll be left in trump’s hand once he’s in office.

trump has said he’s going to extend the ban until april. (90 days). he signaled to signing an executive order tomorrow for that to be solidified. so there’s a long few months ahead!

and in case anyone who should know, doesn’t know: trump is expected to start mass deportations with raids on tuesday. it’s also expected that trump will be issuing a national emergency declaration along the southern border monday 1/20 (inauguration day!) the expected cities for these deportations to start: chicago, washington dc, boston, miami, new york city, denver and san antonio. it’s assumed that these will begin on tuesday (1/21) and last for the week. (trump isn’t just looking into undocumented immigrants, but is also interested in deporting legal americans through birthright citizenship).

if you see ice yell la migra!

stay safe :)

[flipwizardstarlight]

Okay so lets dive a little into the particulars. It's been a year since they cut danny off. He gets about 12 hours a week in what is essentially a prison cell to take the bracelet off so he can use his ice cause the adults learned very early that it would kill him if he didn't, and they want to "help" danny so letting it kill him like that would be counter productive. So lets put the gala like, the day before they are gonna let him have access to his core, so danny looks *so fucking bad* but he is desperate. He has avoided these things for the whole year cause they happen to always fall when he is at his worst health wise, but Lady Gotham finally managed to make contact through all the fenton and Masters protections to tell him about how her knights would help him if they knew he needed help, but he would have to tell them because for all she is trying, she cant lead them to him. So danny is miserable, tremors are terrible, can't keep food down, heart palpitations, absent seizures, the works, but he manages to convice them to bring him to the gala so he can socialize with "normal humans" and hopefully it will help "fix him" and they are dubious but agree.

So he is at this gala and he looks terrible and he feels awful but he has to try, and he knows something is fucky about bruce and doesn't trust it cause adults have a bad rep for Not Helping so he is short and distrustful and goes to sit down, right? And then Tim approaches him. And tim... let's say this is a little under a year since bruce came back, put tim at age 18 (only a year and a half older then danny) and he is working on taking better care of himself but it's slow going. It has only been a few months since the fam realized he was fading and started trying to make amends, so he is still pretty sickly looking too, so danny looks at this kid and immediately feels like "he would understand". And lady gotham didn't tell him the civilian ids for her knights because she didn't have time, but she manages to put a mark on tim right before the gala since she knows tim is the one he is most likely to trust, so he sees this mark and is like "yeah let's go" and tim starts trying to make small talk and Danny just

Danny, quietly, facing away from his parents and vlad so they wont know what he is saying: act like Im not saying some extremely concerning things so we dont get caught

Tim, immediately on board but incredibly concerned: yeah i can do that what's up?

Danny: im sick cause they are trying to "fix" me by taking away the part of me that keeps me alive and they wont believe me when i tell them this.

Tim, pulling out his phone to text jay to come kidnap this kid right now immediately: explain that a little more

Danny: i was in a lab accident that should have killed me but because of the substance involved it just gave me powers that literally keep me alive. Jack maddie and vlad are trying to take the powers away cause they want their son back but im literally right here.

Tim, trans man who has DEFINITELY heard that exact line about metas and trans people before, texts jason to hurry the fuck up: sweet how do you feel about siblings?

Like. Just. Tim takes one look at this pathetic wet cat of a boy who is pratically begging for help and is like "time to pull the 'my brother is still technically a crime lord so he can get away with this' card-hey Jason come kidnap this kid"

And jason is hella on board, it has been a slow night, he is bored, has been a while since he worked with tim on something so he misses his Red Robin, knows tim wouldn't ask him to kidnap someone without good reason, is also just like. So fucking ride or die for this guy. Like. Tim says jump and jason says "yes sir right away sir" but also would shoot you for pointing it out cause tim absolutely hasn't realized this yet. (Can u tell i ship jaytim??)

And just. Tim says "you want loud or quiet escape" and danny like "quiet so they dont know to follow me. Just like. Ask them about their inventions and they will forget about me probably for long enough to get me out" so tim is like "sweet, bruce has them occupied want to join me on a balcony for a few?"

They go outside and red fucking hood appears about two minutes later like "sup nerds lets get u gone" and coincidence of coincidences, one of the rogues attacks right then so the fentons are even more thuroughly distracted long enough for them to get danny to a safehouse to take off the bracelet that has a tracker that they then give to nightwing to plant somewhere else and danny immediately is gaining strength and once the bracelet is off he can tell jay is also halfa and is like "oh god oh no i put you in so much danger oh god we have to get out of here do you have somewhere like, so fucking far away that it would take a week for my parents to get there at least so i can regain enough strength to make a portal to somewhere fully safe?"

Im imagining jay calls kori and takes danny to space and he is just. So fucking relieved. So fucking happy. Like a wet fucking kitten. A week later danny makes the portal and oops turns out he is interdimensional royalty? Holy shit? And his grandpa is literally the embodiment of time? The bats all get a bit of a power boost for helping danny.

By the time the bat approaches the fentons to be like "lemme hear your side of things please" they are spitting mad about phantom and it is supremely unhelpful to themselves how they go on a whole ass rant about how ghosts as "non sentient and non sapient" but also "pure evil" and how they keep talking about what happened in amity to like "prove" their side but like, most of the stories follow this basic plot of "we were notified of a ghost, arrived to see phantom and the other ghost fighting, phantom captured the other ghost then ran away and we lost him" and like. They also keep talking about danny being one of the people consistently volunteering to help fix the property damage from ghost fights and like, bruce knows a lot of metahumans. bruce knows a lot of superheroes. Bruce knows a lit of heroes who fight powered villians who also insist on volunteering to clean up their messes after fights. And also the parents are graphic about the vitrol they are spewing towards phantom and the things they want to do to him when they finally separate him from danny and like.

Bruce is just.

Bruce goes home and hugs his children super tight.

He almost cries about what these people have put their son through, he is so upset about it. Because he also knows a lot of trans and metas. And he knows what kind of hate is spewed their way. And he knows how people talk about them. And he knows how some *parents* talk about their *kids* who are those. And he just. It all sounds *exactly like those people*.

It gets even worse when tim tells him that JASON has the same condition they were trying to "cure" danny of. Bruce and jay don't have the best relationship but they gave bruce some of their notes on danny and what they have done to try and cure him and after he knows that he can't stop seeing jay in Danny's place and just.

He goes to superman and wonder woman like "if i work on this any longer i will end up trying to kill these people. I cannot do this."

Jay and danny get a nice vacay in the far frozen and some real good therapists while the JL take down the fwbtons and dalvco.

Jazz has been searching for her brother and parents for a year at this point, fully dropped out if college, collected sam and tucker, and the three have been living out of her car for a YEAR trying to find and rescue danny. They find out the JL is going after dalvco and that the three adults are under house arrest while they are investigated for child abuse and the dissappearance/death of the Fenton's son and they are so fucking worried about if the jl has danny. They go to the nearest city with a jl hero and rob a store so they can get the hero's attention and have just like. Full on breakdowns about "please tell me he isn't dead please tell me he is okay please he can't be dead we have been looking for him for a year PLEASE"

Imagining them talking to like. Martian manhunter like "you were his favorite hero, PLEASE, you don't even have to tell us where he is just tell us he is ALIVE" and like. God that year from their pov is just. So fucking good angst material.

Dp x Dc Bad parents with a twist.

The Fentons find out about Danny being Phantom. Either from Vlad or just randomly. They take it badly. They think Phantom is possessing him, but they think they can "save" him. Unfortunately, the GIW think otherwise and want to destroy their son. So what do they do? They erase all signs of their existence in Amity and wiping every article and study they ever had on ghost. Then they packed up and moved to Gotham in the middle of the night. Cutting Danny off from his friends and Jazz (due to her being at college and disagreeing with them). Vlad and the Fentons become business partners. Publicly, the three work together making and marketing inventions. while privately trying to 'fix' Danny on the side.

Danny has to wear an upgraded specter deflector, which is a thin metal bracelet.

Having half of himself offline for a long period of time has been causing his physical health to decline. That and the experiments his parents have been performing on him. No full-blown vivisection. He also gets anesthesia because they believe the Danny can still feel.

It wasn't long for the people of Gotham to start to talk about Vlad Co's new business partners and their sickly son. It wasn't long after for Bruce Wayne to gain some interest as well.

The first time Bruce met the Fentons was at a gala with Masters introducing them. Jack, Maddie, and Their son. He was also able to observe that he looked more sickly in person. With deep eye bags, pale skin, and how thin he was. It made Bruce's heart ache thinking what the boy about Tim's age had been having to endure.

The conversation contuied. Danny nervously fidgeting, only giving curt responses. Mr Fenton laughed, joking about how Danny didn't like fancy events. He excused Danny, telling him to grab something to eat. Danny nodded and rushed away, grabbing food and settling down in a nestled in a far back conner.

Bruce continued talking to the enthusiastic pair, talking glances at the boy occasionally. He felt some of his tension relax when spotting Tim taking a seat near Danny.

After the gala Tim and Bruce got together and compared notes. They both came to one conclusion.

They needed to find out more.

[starillusion13]

Ok so I am bored to death soo questionnaire ahead:

Birth month

Hav u dated

If u could spend one day with an idol who?

Can u sing

Fav k-pop songs

Fav non k-pop song

Is yuta sexy?

Fav food

Fav drink

Am I annoying

What if I am a 40 y/o uncle?

Kiss marry kill (atz/nct) also me

Ideal date

Fav movie,series,anime,comic

Do u believe in aliens

Why are cows white

Would u date if taeyong was a fat cow

Are u cow?

Assign me an animal/flower/season/thing/colour

Are u checking facts

Ok that's it. If u don't wanna ans anz Q ignore it~

-🦀

wait some questions are- oh gosh am cracking up!

June (yes I am same month as Haechan Taeil Yeosang)

No (I receive a lot of proposals but no. never felt like to date coz I cant trust anyone)

Taeyong (I am really so into him like i just want to meet him one day just to say Thank you for appearing in my life suddenly back in those days. he has changed me a lot and taught me so many positive things.) Also, Hongjoong, Yunho & Mark

Yes I can sing. (I was in singing and dancing club back in school coz I can do both)

Right now I would say Box-nct dream but (been through, thunder, playboy, heart attack - exo, sun&moon, no longer, lipstick, sit down, lips, -nct 127, inception, arriba, fever -ateez, teddy bear, never goodbye, its yours, rainbow -nct dream, after midnight, poppin love, domino, all for love, no one but you -wayv, wish u were here, line em up - superm, Im unhappy, new world - aespa, sunrise, summer rain -gfriend)

else from kpop (dowtown - allie x, I'm not her - clara mae, eastside - halsey, ciao adios - anne marie, all we know - chainsmokers, i like you so much you'll know it, know me - gemini, on the loose- niall horan, arcade- duncane laurance, 6 feet under -bellie elish, fetish - selena gomez...I listen to non kpop more so if I start with all then it'll be about a post only for songs) I listen to songs almost whole day so theres a big list...sorry but I literally love when someone asks me about my fav songs.

Of course Yuta is sexy...comeon that video of him stretching and his butterfly tattoo peeking beneath his shirt is still imprinted in my head. His whole appearance is what some fans their idol to be.

Food,I'm not a foody person. I often skip meals. but I love cakes and ice cream a lot.

Smoothie (I try those special ones from every cafe, I love it)

of course not. Never, if you ask me 100 asks a day, I will still answer u. I am always online coz my studies r online related so just I take time to answer but u cant be annoying. I love to interact with u so much. you are the sweetest anon. I am glad to be your friend.

It's okay. (If the uncle is feeling uncomfortable to share his age with younger people then fine but if he is sexualizing or making dirty jokes with a younger person who is half of his age then he should feel shame on himself like how are you treating someone of your child's age also I have followers who are almost 40 and I have fun with them in some topics even in real, I engage in a convo with elder people too fast)

sorry love but kill - you coz no one comes before ateez n nct

kiss - NCT (this is literally like choosing btw mom n dad)

marry - ateez (age diff is perfect to marry lol)

to be honest if I could date someone, i would have dated Yunho (caring, soft, a perfect body proportion (im not pervert i swear), passionate about his belongings, a bit dominative but not like those in ffs, romantic, smart, can cook, sassy, cute, gentleman, hot) Taeyong and Hongjoong should not see this

Fav movie - interstellar( i have watched it 7 times not kidding, I love space a lot), I literally watch all youtube videos on space and its history, series- theres few in my language which r too good but I dont think they have translation ver. , if u say drama then (meteor garden, put your head on my shoulder, love o2o, vincenzo, extraordinary you, doom at my service) Im not a anime/comic person but my bestie is.

As I love space so certainly I believe in aliens and some unnatural events happened on earth.

Cows white...but I see cows of different colors, but those white ones who are due to pigmentation reason dw they get pretty privileges lol

Why will I date a cow? oh gosh no. Honestly, he is too thin to be a cow and cow doesnt have those sharp jawlines. he could have been a knife, I would have used it regularly.

If I were a cow then only it would have been possible to date a cow Taeyong.

Animal - fox (dk but I felt like it)

flower - sunflower

season - summer

thing - ribbon

color - red

assign things r very random but I trust my instincts and they told me these all

checking facts (?) check the facts go check that check the stats go check that.

WOW LOOKS LIKE MY WIKIPEDIA

[stupidluvr]

😨🍧🙈🔫☁️💌 hehe

ANSWERS BELOW THE CUT !

😨 - when scared, do they go into "flight" or "fight"?

neither! it is to freeze! he's not a violent person, has never intended to cause harm unless it really, really requires it. but due to the nature of his upbringing, his response to a lot of sudden or frightening moments is to freeze. as if he wont be seen if he just stays still.

🍧 - do they still have any objects from their childhood? what significance does it have to them? what would their reaction be if they lost it?

calypso still owns a copy of goodnight moon that his mother would read to him every night as a baby and toddler. and when he was slightly older, when she would have really bad sick days, he would lay in bed beside her and read the book to her. it's really important to him, as it lets him keep that piece of mother with him always when he's upset, and he intends to read it to his kids if he has any. if he lost it, he would be in total distress and meltdown; he can't just get another copy of it, either, because the pages wont have the same nail polish stain, or the corner slightly nibbled on from when he was a curious and teething baby.

🙈 - whats a side of your oc that they don't want to show other people?

he's birdie; he's the optimism people search for in their times of feeling lost, he's the warmth from the sun engulfing you in its rays, he's the flicker of a guiding flame in the deepest caves. he wears this mask that everything is fine, but in reality he's never felt so lost in his life. in fact, all he does is try to fuel himself with false optimism when all his mind can think about are the negatives and the what ifs. if he's seemingly okay and happy, then maybe it'll rub off on others! ( he just feels worse )

🔫 - do they trust people easily? how easily will they turn their back to someone? have they been backstabbed before? will they betray someone if given an ultimatum?

I LOVE THIS okay. surprisingly birdie does NOT trust easy, though he is a sucker for second chances and i can't even explain how that works. he very much dislikes sudden changes, and literally any new person he comes across that ends up almost becoming a part of his and his group's daily life he's so sus of. he is deathly loyal, too afraid to lose anyone important to him as he is afraid of being alone and turning cruel, so he wouldn't turn his back on someone unless they REALLY messed up. he's technically been backstabbed by his dad, believed he was like,,, Okay for the first couple years of his life and then it just went downhill. if given an ultimatum, it really depends on what it is. if it has to deal with the well-being of loved ones then yes.

☁️ - a soft headcanon!

head in hands sobbing, birdie has pretty shite eyesight but wears contacts except for the time he lost his last pair of lenses and ended up having to wear his glasses for a week which have rlly goofy ass, thick lenses and he looked so precious and dumb. he also has a sensory swing when he moves out to live with his partner and huddles in it when he feels bad or feels smth comin on, or just chills and naps in it hehe. he LOVES chocolate, especially anything chocolate mint, but can be a messy eater and gets ice cream/cake/etc. all over his cheeks :sob:

💌 - do they like love letters? what kind of messages do they leave for their partner?

this is why i adore you. anyway. oh my god he loves love so much and love letters and being any sort of gross mushy romantic. he's constantly out here doing the MOSTEST for his partner. goody baskets practically given out once a month, or just literally randomly out of the blue. letters consist of "im so proud of you" "waking up next to you continues to be a highlight of my life" "you smiled at me and i got all embarrassed so i bought u this bouquet" "i have a giant crush on you"