#hey ho another one of those | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

starry-bi-sky · 2 years ago

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#second: op you answered so many questions!!? thank you!! but that is a dangerous game bc now i have /more/ >:)

I will answer as many as I can!!! this is making me literally so happy lmao. And as I said before: if i don't have an answer to one, I'll mention it. (a lot of these are great because I can meditate on the answer and it lets me expand on the au more)

#aaah there is SO much heartache all around in this au!!#how you described the grief danny was feeling before he died - how dying with those emotions means he'll never be free of them? my heart </#just hit again with w how SAD dannys ghost form is in this au - and how will jason respond once he sees it?

I SAW THIS BEFORE I WENT INTO WORK AND MMMM. It made me think so much about my thoughts on how I wanted to expand a little more on his ghost form, and I just thought about adding how his Lichtenberg scars like, converge where his heart is. His left arm has the scarring. And then when you look at where his heart is, there's scarring over it, as if there's a hole there and his heart is missing. His grief has carried onto the afterlife, why not incorporate that into his ghost self more? Raaaa I want it to look like he's perpetually crying under his evil scientist goggles. (post-post addition: i drew it :))

Have you ever listened to 'The Moon Will Sing' from The Crane Wives? That's Danny with his grief over Jason. "The moon will sing a song for me/I loved you like the sun/bore the shadows that you made/with no light of my own/I shine only with the light you gave me"

I don't even know if I need to expand on his grief because we already know how it gets in canon. It's this heavy, destructive thing that hits hard and lasts long. Losing your entire family is different from losing a single person, but if that single person was part of a separate, two person family, then what difference does that make?

#and does he ever see danny fight - not as a scrappy street kid anymore but now trained and experienced! does he learn HE trained danny?

eventually! I can't think of an occasion (yet) where Jason would see Danny fight, but that can totally come later. Maybe if I get possessed again I'll write something. I've had a few ideas about how Danny reveals his ghost form but all of them verge more into the 'cracky, can really only be expanded on in dms cuz they don't follow the theme of the au' territory, and didn't feel satisfactory to the au.

#how would he feel after that declaration of dannys to kill joker? i'd be like wth did i tell him??? and why cant i remember!#poor jason already sweating bullets at the idea of admitting he's still alive after all this time - he has no idea where they even stand no#danny talked to his ghost? his actual ghost? how much does danny know? does he know he was robin? does he know he's HOOD? or about his mom?#there's so much he's wanted to tell danny - how much would he have said as a ghost with apparently nothing else to lose?

YEAH THAT'S EXACTLY IT. Jason watches Danny leave and he's trying to just. Process everything. From seeing his best friend in front of him, to remembering that Danny doesn't know he's Red Hood, to realizing that Danny has been grieving him for the last five years and that he was still grieving. And then Danny tells him that he talked to his ghost? And that he's gonna murder the Joker? Jason is just. He's processing. Your tags capture exactly that: his questions about what does Danny know?

#also: if danny is 19 - jason is 19/20 right? so tbh this is probably not long after his frankly suicidal murder rampage through gotham#so what - admit to danny thats... a lot to admit to

yeah I'll be totally frank I don't know enough about Jason during his Red Hood era to give much of a response to this. I only had a little idea that he even went on a rampage tbh 😅 but now knowing that he went on a murder rampage? Yeah he'd be even less inclined to tell Danny about him. Ignorance is bliss and all that -- even if Danny's ignorance to him being alive is causing him more harm than good. (Jason still doesn't even know that Danny's been searching for him yet).

#and i can kind of get why he might have kept fenton stuff from bruce. either the dr fentons are fine & good or theyre not#either admittance to bruce might feel like betrayel - esp if danny has never said in clear words : i want out of this family#and he must have known them at least a little. shared a small meal at their place? listened to a crazy speech? he might be defensive of the(m)

Oh yeah totally! If Danny hasn't invited Jason over at least once, then his parents have whenever they see him hanging out with Jason. And that brings up one of Jackdaw's tags -- that Danny knows not to touch his parents inventions. And I think even Jason knows that. He remembers whenever Danny's parents talked about repairing the toaster or the fridge, or making an invention with parts laying around the house, that Danny would always immediately drag Jason off to the other room. "I hate it when they do this." He'd complain, "their things are a safety hazard."

And then later he complains to Jason about how whatever invention his parents made or whatever thing they fixed blew up and set off their shit fire alarm and they had to evacuate the building. "I told you it was a safety hazard." He says, and then steals the cigarette from Jason's hands.

Jason knows that Danny wouldn't touch his parents things with a three hundred foot pole. Just imagine how he'd react to finding out that Danny willingly walked into his parents' broken, unstable portal with nothing but a hazmat suit only a week after his funeral :)

Post-posting addition: raaaa even better if Danny even tells Jason about their new lab basement after they move to the new house and Danny routinely mentions that he avoids going in there as much as possible because he doesn’t want to be around whatever half-baked safety hazard his parents have cooked up in case it explodes on him. Him not taking Sam and Tucker in there until after the funeral when the portal finishes.

#back to jason hearing the ghost talk: it was one thing to feel guilty about keeping away from danny who loved him -#but now after avoiding danny and amity he's faced with the proof that he's missed out on x amount of time w danny too#how much has changed in their time apart

I have nothing I can say about this other than I love it and the line "it was one thing to feel guilty about keeping away from Danny who loved him" because RA its so good, because Danny DOES love him. And not even romantically yet because platonic love ftw. Jason was part of Danny's family and all but his other half. His partner in crime. And YEAH Jason's missed out on so much, when he starts looking into Amity Park he's really going to see how much.

#one last thing: that danny avoided gotham bc he wants to kill joker but if he starts could he stop? makes me wonder... what changed?#was it really just a coincidence with vlad? or is he hoping to find jason's ghost in gotham?#or is he giving up again but this time he'll be sure to take out the clown with him?#bc telling THE RED HOOD his threat on the joker? yeah that feels like a challenge. a promise. like he's being too loose with his life again#and if he was afraid of turning into rath for all these years - a different name sure- but how did all that happen in this au?#same as canon? or was it jason related? both?? bc im p sure that happened roughly 6 months after portal incident too..... ;)

exhibit a of why i love these questions because it pushes me to expand my thinking of the au and in turn expand the au itself because when I was writing this initially I really didn't expect to think too hard on it. i mentioned in my first response that vlad's 'blackmailing' was just me coming up with an excuse to get Danny into Gotham unwillingly. I was possessed by the brainrot gods and spent four hours writing the initial post like a Man Possessed. And now we're here and I love it.

I need to sit on this answer, because I wasn't thinking about changing much about how TUE could differ from canon. But this is making me think SO much. I will totally try and get back to you on this after I mull it over. As well as Danny telling the Red Hood about going to kill the Joker and the Vlad thing. But in the meantime feel free to rant more because I love it and it gives me brainrot <3

Childhood Friends Danny and Jason

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They... sort it out eventually.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The wriggly protective thing settles in his chest.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bruce refuses, his face full of grief.

Danny never returns to Gotham.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It was the Joker." Jason says.

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

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

Not died. Killed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not Dick?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

———————

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

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

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

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

Tim responds quickly, and his message sends.

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

Dick: they are funny

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

Tim: hey Jason are you not gonna say anything?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jason: that’s danny?

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

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

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

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

Tim: how would you know that?

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

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

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

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

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

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

———————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He misses Jason. He misses Jason.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s already begun to move towards the door.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He frowns. And says nothing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#childhood friends au #undead on main #fun fact i made dan's name 'rath' because i Hate the name Dan #raaa my friend had sk8 infinity on and distracted me from the brrrr of responding so now i feel like none of these are satisfying answers #eagerly awaiting your response #all of this is making me think about my 'danny is a jason todd variant' au because THAT has some angst to it specifically over Danny meetin #the average Jason Todd other version of him #Danny (or jay as i like to call him) as Jason wants what Jason has: people who mourn him and address the fact that he's died #Mfer danny’s death in this (the childhood friends one) au is making me think SO much #he mentions his parents built a portal in his basement at lunch and Sam and Tucker think thats crazy #and he goes ‘do you wanna see if?’ and takes them to it after school #his friends are marvelling at everything in the lab bc they’ve never been down here #and Danny’s kinda just staring at the portal with his hands in his pockets #he hasn’t slept since he heard the news of Jason’s death. he looks so tired and sad with circles under his eyes #tucker says the portal looks so creepy because its unlit and looks like it goes on forever. its a tunnel #danny half smiles tiredly and goes ‘wanna see me go inside it?’ bc hey why the fuck not. who cares anymore it doesnt work ghosts arent real #would he even bother putting on a hazmat suit? would he just go inside? would that change how his ghost form looks even more now?#and he goes inside when normally he wouldnt even think about stepping foot near the lab door. but who cares jason is dead and it feels like #there’s a hole where his heart is. like the sun just died. what is he supposed to do now? he doesn’t even care what happens at this point #imagine his first thought upon being ghosted isnt ‘i died’ its ‘ghosts are real? can i see jason again?’#does he have two ghost forms now? one where he’s phantom and another where he’s still phantom but his grief is more prominent?#tears scarred into his cheeks? he takes off his goggles and his eyes are filled out with green no sclera or iris in sight? or is it like #those animatics where its sketched out holes that run at a lower fps than the rest of the animatic? meant to represent his grief? is the ho #in his heart more visible? raaaaagh this is giving me so many delicious thoughts. might be able to answer that dan and vlad question soon #listening to crybaby by melanie martinez while listening to this and thinking about danny #RAAAA ARE HIS TEARS MADE OF INK TO REPRESENT HIS LETTERS TO JASON? i keep having to edit this post because i keep getting MORE ideas #is his ghostly wail the same scream when he died or when he found out jason did? SO MANY THOUGHTS

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nick-writes-stuff · 4 months ago

Text

Various Squid Game Characters x injured gn!reader

(Includes Gi-hun, In-ho/Young-il, Thanos, and Dae-ho)

!warnings: canon-typical violence, use of Y/N, cursing, in Dae-ho's specifically it is kinda implied that reader was using the women's bathroom but it doesn't say anything about the actual gender of the reader

a/n: this is most likely noncompliant to the canon, but it's fine. i might do another part with different characters later, but for now, i wanted to get this out asap. hope you enjoy!

Gi-hun:

- Winners don't get hurt, right? That's what you thought, but here you were trudging back to the dorms with a gunshot wound. A bullet must have ricocheted off the pavement because something grazed your side.

- You were one of the last ones to complete your game of marbles, so you walked back to the dorm alone.

- When you entered the room, he could tell there was something wrong, but he assumed it was shock from the cutthroat nature of the game. He'd been through it before, and he was still shaken to his core.

- You walked over to the area your group had claimed for themselves. You sat on the ground, arms wrapped around yourself. It looked like you were hugging yourself, a common self-soothing practice, but it was really just a way to put pressure on the wound covertly.

- He noticed how quiet you were being even after the remaining members had started chatting.

- "Y/N, I'm glad you made it out of there." He said. He watched your reaction closely.

- You nodded, murmuring a soft "Thanks, you too."

- He continued to watch you, concern growing with each passing moment. You started to grow pale as you sat there. Your breathing was labored despite your attempt to hide it.

- "Hey, are you okay?" He asked. It was a stupid question, and he knew it. How could you be okay here? Especially after a game like marbles.

- He didn't expect you to shake your head. You looked like you were going to cry. He moved closer to you, blocking the view of the others in an attempt to provide some level of privacy.

- "What's wrong?" You tried to speak but you couldn't get the words out. "Hey, what happened?" He asked. He lowered his voice, but you could hear his tone become more frantic.

- You wordlessly pulled your hand away from your wound, showing him the crimson staining it and your clothes.

- You noticed his gaze become distant. He looked at you and saw Sae-byeok, and you knew exactly what was happening. He hadn't told you about her specifically, but he had mentioned a close friend being injured. You hated bringing back those memories for him.

- You started crying, sputtering out a string of apologies. "I'm sorry. S-sorry. I didn't mean to. I didn't-"

- That made him snap back to reality. He cut you off. "No, no, it's not your fault. You're gonna be okay." He said quickly. He helped you lay back so he could get a better look at it.

- "Guys, we need some help over here." He said, keeping his voice low. It got their attention regardless.

- "Can one of you get me one of the bedsheets?" Gi-hun asked, to which Jung-bae rushed to get. Jun-hee passed over an unopened water bottle. "Here! I didn't drink it with lunch so I could save it for later." She said.

- Dae-ho took the request for help in a different way. "Hello?! Can we get a doctor in here!? Someone's-"

- "Dae-ho, stop it!" He snapped. The man's face changed to a look of shock. "They won't come. Trust me." He said softer. Dae-ho muttered a soft, "Sorry."

- You continued to cry, trying to keep yourself quiet. "I'm gonna need to pull this up, okay?" he asked, fingers grabbing the fabric of your shirt. You nodded, grimacing as he peeled the fabric off the wound.

"Y/N.... what happened?" He asked. Jung-bae and Jun-hee were folding the bedsheet to make it manageable to wrap around you.

- "I-I think a bullet ricocheted or something. I don't know. I'm sorry." You stammered, flinching at the cold feeling of the water as he poured some onto it. It wasn't nearly as bad as he thought, but it certainly wasn't pleasant.

- He bandaged you up the best he could with the supplies on hand. Once he was done, you sat up with a wince. "Careful." He warned, but you could hear his playful tone returning to him.

- You leaned into him, head resting on his shoulder. "Thank you. All of you." You you said softly, looking over to your other allies. Gi-hun smiled softly. "Get some rest, okay? I'll keep watch." He said, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

- Be prepared to hardly leave his sight for the rest of the games. He swears to protect you no matter what. Even when more selfish players would suggest he leave you behind. And they did suggest it, resulting in him lashing out at them. That was clearly a sore spot, as their words reminded him of Sang-woo.

- That night, he had a nightmare about the last night in his first game. The events played out as normal, but with you in the place of Sae-byeok. It was harrowing, to say the least. He may have failed her, but he will do anything to make sure you made it out of here.

- He woke up with a start, breathing faster than usual. You were in the bed pushed closer to his. You turned toward him slowly. "What's going on?" You asked in a hushed whisper.

- "It's nothing, go back to sleep." He responded. You knew better, but you didn't press him any further. However, you did carefully roll toward him, resting your head on his chest.

- He was going to scold you for moving too much, but you quickly returned to sleep. He just smiled like a lovesick fool and got some much-needed sleep.

In-ho/Young-il

(calling him young-il for clarity's sake)

- It all happened very quickly. Mingle was the most chaotic game yet. After the first two rounds, you quickly grew overwhelmed. The spinning platform didn't make the situation any better. You were getting a bit disoriented, but you were able to mask it fairly well.

- When the voice called out six, your group devised your plan to split up. When you had your plan, you ran to follow Young-il toward a room. As you stepped off the platform, your ankle twisted in a way it definitely wasn't supposed to.

- You fell to the ground, yelling out an expletive as your body hit the ground. Young-il turned around instantly, and upon seeing you, he told the group to run ahead and claim a room.

- He moved closer to you. "What happened?" He asked, his voice loud to cut through the chaos. He offered you a hand to help you up.

- You took his hand, pulling yourself up. You groaned upon bearing weight on your foot. "Twisted my ankle." You said through gritted teeth.

- He wrapped an arm around you, helping to support your weight. "I know it hurts but we have to move." He said before beginning to move. You tried to keep up as much as you could.

- You both barely made it into the door before it slammed shut. You leaned against the wall, lifting your foot up to give it a break. "Thanks." You said breathlessly.

- You limped back over to the platform. You didn't want to make it obvious that you were hurt in fear that they would leave you behind. It's survival of the fittest, after all.

- Young-il turned to face you when he got on top of the platform. He reached for your hand, interlocking your fingers. "Stay with me, okay?" He said softly, but you could tell it was more of an order than a request. You nodded.

- When the merry-go-round stopped and the number was announced, his arm wrapped around you to support you again. It was two, so it was just you and him you needed to worry about. You were trying your best to keep up with him. This was high stakes, as there definitely weren't enough rooms in this round.

- Around halfway to the room, you stumbled to the floor. He turned to help you up, but you insisted, "Go claim a room, I'll get there." You said. He was hesitant to leave you, but he knew your idea was the best odds for survival.

- You forced yourself up to a standing position. You took a deep breath and started limping as fast as you could.

- Some other player reached Young-il's room before you did. He snuck his way into the room. "Hurry up and shut the door man!" He shouted.

- Young-il's blood boiled. "Get the fuck out of here before I make you get out." He spat, turning to face the man.

- The man stood his ground. "They are just gonna hold you back, man. They're deadweight. You're better off with-" He was cut off by Young-il grabbing him roughly.

- You made it to the door, getting there with a few seconds to spare. You looked at Young-il. "Throw him out, quickly." You said.

- Young-il made his choice. This man didn't deserve the chance to live. He wrapped an arm around the man's throat, cutting off his airway. "Shut the door." He said, clearly straining.

- Your eyes widened, but you listened. You slammed the door shut. Soon after, you heard a sickening pop, and the player went limp. You didn't say a word. "Player 332, eliminated."

- You wouldn't say the action scared you. You wanted him to be thrown out, which would have resulted the same way. But the personal way that Young-il took the man's life without hesitation was... concerning.

- No matter what just happened, he kept you alive. Even if it was gruesome, it was the reason you are still alive. You took a deep breath, reveling in the fact that the game was over. He pulled you into a hug, let out a relieved sigh.

- "Thank you." You murmured softly. You pulled away when the doors unlocked and swung open. You limped toward the door, frantically searching the crowd for your allies. Young-il stood behind you, doing the same.

- When you started to move toward the exit, he offered you his arm again. You shook your head. You wanted to try to walk on your own, so you only took hold of his arm for balance when you needed it.

- You were scared of looking weak to the others. You already had one player try to get rid of you. You weren't deadweight. You tried to mask any signs that you were in pain, and that worked to hide the injury from most players.

- But Young-il knew what was going through your head, and he wanted to make sure you felt comfortable. When they received dinner with the forks, he started to use the fork as a means to get leverage to tear up the sheet.

- You were puzzled with what he was doing until he brought it over to you. "Can I wrap that up for you? Might give you a bit of stability." He said.

- You were shocked at his thoughtfulness. You really thought you weren't going to get sympathy. You nodded, stretching out your leg. The makeshift ace bandage worked well enough.

- He protected you both in the game and outside of it when he resumed his role as the Front Man. You found extras of your favorites in the tins your dinner came in. Your team was paired with the weakest group in Tug of War, so you had to do the least amount of work for the victory.

- Despite the fact you thought he was dead, he was still in your corner.

Thanos/Su-bong:

- Being an ally with the most chaotic and violent player in the games should have granted you a high level of protection, but being romantically involved with him should make you virtually untouchable. Keyword being "should."

- You ended up cornered in the hall on the return to the dorms from the bathroom. You found yourself pinned to the wall by your throat by another O player.

- "You finally don't have that purple-headed asshole to protect you, huh?" He spat, smirking in your face.

- You tried to struggle against him, leading him to tighten your grip on your throat. "Nuh-uh. You aren't getting away from me until I'm done with you." He said.

- You couldn't really get a sound out to alert anyone, and even if you could, you were probably out of earshot of the players in the dorms.

- The way Thanos found out was overhearing a conversation from two other players. "Where's 438?" One asked. The other snickered. "Taking care of Thanos's bitch." He said with a sick grin.

- Thanos jumped up, scaring Min-su with his sudden movement. "The fuck did you say?" He yelled, moving toward the pair. They realized they messed up and ran off. Thanos wanted to go after them, but reason told him to let them go. For now.

- He rushed over to the hallway, Nam-gyu followed with a roll of his eyes, and Min-su looked around before timidly walking toward the hallway, hovering in the doorway.

- In a last-ditch effort to free yourself, you let your knees give out and tried to duck out of his grasp. It allowed you to take a gasp for air, but you couldn't get away. He slammed you back into the wall, and pain radiated through your skull.

- You grabbed his wrist and tried to dig your nails into his skin. He swung his other hand to strike you in the face. You cried out from this, a noise that made Thanos move even faster.

- "Hey asshole, what the fuck are you doing?" He yelled, running up to him and shoving him away from you. You scurried back toward Nam-gyu.

- Thanos saw red. You almost couldn't watch as he kicked the player repeatedly in the stomach. "You motherfucker." He snarled.

- After a few moments, it became harder for you to watch. Nam-gyu interrupted him first. "Thanos, leave it." He urged. He didn't acknowledge him. You heard the man sputter and spit up blood. "Su-bong, please." You pleaded, voice somewhat raspy from the pain in your throat.

- He stopped for a moment, taking a deep breath before giving him one more kick and turning to leave. He instantly grabbed your hand as you walked back to the dorms.

- Before you entered the dorm, he stopped in the hallway and pulled you into a hug. He didn't want any other player to recognize that vulnerability. You felt him take a shuddering breath. "It's okay, I'm okay." You said softly.

- When you four got settled in the dorm, Thanos was noticeably quieter than usual. You caught him staring at you multiple times, likely watching the bruise form on your face and neck.

- After around an hour, he suddenly remembered the other guys who knew about your attack. He suddenly tensed up, taking a deep breath before going to stand up. You grabbed his hand. "Don't. Please."

- He sighed before pouting. You rolled your eyes at him. "Fine." He said, dragging out the word. You leaned over and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. He grinned.

- That night, it was hard for him to sleep. He found himself trying to listen for every noise to assess for any threats. Eventually, he was tired enough that he dragged himself out of his bed and moved to yours.

- He climbed into your bed. You woke up rather quickly, turning toward him. He had scared you slightly, but you didn't mention it. "What's wrong?" You murmured quietly, still half asleep.

- "Couldn't sleep." He replied. He wrapped his arms around you. It was soothing to be sure you were safe. You fell back to sleep soon after, and he followed suit.

- Waking up next to each other felt amazing. You just wished that it was under different circumstances, seeing as you awoke to the music signaling the next game would begin.

Dae-ho:

- You had been in the bathrooms when the brawl began. When you heard the commotion, you wanted to run out to the others. Safety in numbers, right?

- You got to the doorway of the bathroom exit, taking a few steps out before you were noticed by a player. An O. He seemed uninterested until his eyes flickered toward the red badge on your jacket.

- He grew a sick grin. "Looks like I'm gonna take out some trash." He said, brandishing the fork he had from dinner.

- He moved to stab toward your face, and you put your arms up to shield from the blow. You cried out as it embedded in your flesh. You kicked his kneecap, causing him to let go of the fork. He stumbled onto his knees. Without hesitation, you kicked him in the balls, making him scream out.

- You rushed into the other, luckily empty, bathroom. You locked yourself in one of the far stalls, sitting up on the tank of the toilet so your feet wouldn't be seen. You started unspooling toilet paper off the roll and packing it around the fork, which was still in your skin. You didn't think you would be able to take it out yourself without fainting.

- When Dae-ho heard a player run out from the hall yelling about an attack, he looked around and quickly realized that you weren't in the dorms. "Guys, Y/N is back there." He said frantically.

- He went to rush there, but he stopped when Young-il spoke. "I wouldn't go after them. Who knows what you'll be walking into?" He warned.

- Dae-ho glared over at him. "So I'll just leave them back there on their own? Fuck that." He shot back. He was happy to see Jung-bae stand up. "Marines have to have each other's backs, right? I'm with you." He said.

- The two rushed down the hall, dodging someone who was fleeing from the fight covered in someone's blood. When they got to the bathrooms, Dae-ho tried his best not to look in. He didn't want to be reminded of the past he tried to bury.

- Jung-bae scanned the room. "I don't think they're in there." He said. Dae-ho abandoned any care for societal norms and swung open the women's bathroom, since it seemed that only the men's bathroom broke out into a brawl.

- "Y/N?" He called out, starting to walk toward the stalls. The older man stayed by the door to keep it closed. The last thing they needed was those O bastards realizing 3 Xs cornered themselves in the bathroom.

- "Dae-ho?" You responded. You didn't move from your spot, scared it was some kind of trick. You hadn't been able to calm down since locking yourself in. You were terrified that man would come for revenge.

- He let out a sigh of relief. "Yeah, it's me. Where are you?" He asked. You got off of your seat. Your uninjured arm trembled as you tried to unlock the door, eventually managing the feat.

- He rushed over after the door swung open. He tried not to look overly shocked by the sight he saw. Your wound didn't seem to be bleeding that badly, but it was enough blood to make him somewhat queasy. But there was also an anger boiling up inside of him.

- "I-I didn't know what to do. So I... I didn't t-touch it. I couldn't." You spoke frantically, stumbling over your words.

- His eyes softened upon seeing the state you were in. "Hey. It's gonna be fine. You're safe now. I'm gonna help you, okay?" He said, trying to console you.

- He started to get a wad of the paper and held in on the side of the fork. "This is probably going to hurt, but I need to do this." He warned. You nodded, squeezing your eyes shut so you didn't need to see it.

- He tried to remove it as gently as he could. You whimpered. "I know, I know, I'm sorry." He murmured. When it was out, he pressed the paper on the wound, holding it by wrapping his hand around your forearm.

- After keeping the pressure for a few moments, he looked you, using his free hand to wipe the tear from your face. "Sir, can you look to see if the brawl has ended?" He called out. You heard the door open, and it was significantly quieter out there. "I think the coast is clear." The older man called back.

- Dae-ho let out a relieved sigh. "Can you hold this?" He asked. You nodded slightly, replacing his hand with your own. You stood up shakily, still bit panicky as the adrenaline started to wear off. When you entered the hallway, he wrapped an arm around your shoulders.

- When you rejoined your group, most were relieved to see you, but Young-il had a look that you couldn't place. He was almost bitter that Dae-ho hadn't listened to him. Neither of you paid that much attention to it.

- You sat down with your back against the wall. He went to one of the empty beds and pulled the pillowcase off the pillow. He came back and sat down next to you. He managed to wrap the fabric around the wound. It was a bit awkward, but it worked to cover the wound and maintain some pressure.

- He grinned once he tucked the edge into itself and it stayed put. "Good as new." He said jokingly.

- You smiled and laughed, a sound that really put him at ease. "I wouldn't go that far." You said. You paused for a moment before looking up at him. "Thank you for coming back for me." You said sincerely.

- He looked jokingly offended. "As if I would just leave you back there, give me a little credit." He said, voice exuding his boyish charm.

- You decided to play into this. You gave an exaggerated sigh before saying, "My hero!" Like someone in distress would say to the knight who saved them. You leaned up to give him a kiss on the cheek. He felt his face heat up, and you giggled before leaning your head on his shoulder.

- He couldn't get the stupid smile off his face. He was down bad. He made a silent vow to himself to make sure the two of you got out of here. He didn't care if the others would call him naive. There wasn't a thing he wouldn't do for you.

#nick writes stuff #squid game fanfic #squid game x reader #gi hun x reader #in ho x reader #young il x reader #su bong x reader #thanos x reader #dae ho x reader #injured reader #squid game x you #choi su bong x reader #hwang in ho x reader #seong gi hun x reader #kang dae ho x reader

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lemmesayimyourbiggestfan · 4 months ago

Note

hi !! how about jun ho x reader where on halloween in s2 when he was supposed to be helping gi-hun and the others track down the front man, he finds reader is actually at the bar partying with friends and is super drunk getting hit on and touched by someone else so he has to decide between helping gi-hun or reader??

Lucky

Hwang Jun-ho x reader

oh, I loved writing this! I feel like it’s so refreshing to read a sg fanfic not taking place in the games, hope you like it as much as I do!

Word count: 0,7k

Warnings: none

requests are open!

Nothing was going as planned. Not only was he not supposed to enter the bar at all but Jun-ho also didn’t expect you to be there. Just when he was frantically trying to wake up his knocked out colleague at the bar, he saw you, neon lights reflecting in your hair, eyes dreamily squinted, hips swinging to the beat.

It’s been a while since you two saw each other. About three years. But Jun-ho felt the wound of your breakup more than ever as he was staring at you longingly, seeing you so free and happy. That’s what he wanted you to be. But a part of him, a stupid and selfish part, was still yearning for your company.

When Jun-ho began the search for his brother In-ho, he didn’t want to bother you with it at all. All he needed was your warm embrace when he got back home from another useless day of searching. But as things got more serious, he knew there were only two ways how to handle your relationship - either endanger you but have you by his side through it all or ensure your safety by letting you go.

And although he sometimes still woke up at night, scared and alone, reaching for the ghost of your hand, he knew he did the right thing. As much as it was killing him.

His phone vibrated - Gi-hun’s location changed to the alleyway next to the bar. With a sigh, Jun-ho was about to spare you a last look before turning away but he froze in place, blood turning cold. That was a stranger’s arm around your waist. And although you looked drunk enough, the tension in your body seemed to scream that the man definitely wasn’t your boyfriend.

Before he knew what he was doing, Jun-ho turned off his intercom and rolled up his sleeves as he pushed his way through the crowd. Without a thought, he gripped the guy’s collar, tearing him off of you.

“Hey!!” he screamed angrily, hands forming into fists. Before he got the opportunity to fight him, Jun-ho punched him in the throat, feeling satisfied as the man fell on the ground, wheezing for air while grasping his neck.

You just stared at Jun-ho, shock visible in your features.

“Jun-ho?” you whispered, the sound lost to the music. He could only stare at how your lips mouthed his name, something he never thought he would behold again.

“Y/N,” he mouthed back, a sad smile forming on his lips. He felt tears welling behind his eyes but fought hard to not let you see them. He caused you a lot of pain many years ago, the least he could do was feign that he got over you.

In your drunken state, he shouldn’t have been surprised that you immediately grabbed his hands. “Jun-ho…” you said again and for a second he thought it might have been a prayer coming off of your lips. He was yours, right then, right there. He would crawl for you, weep for you, do anything for you. And then he felt your warm hands squeeze his and he just couldn’t function anymore. His heart was beating furiously, beating for you only.

And then you started weeping. You came closer, throwing your arms around his neck, pulling him tightly into the embrace as your body shook with heartbreaking sobs.

“Don’t cry sweetheart.” Jun-ho said into your hair, holding the back of your head in one hand, the small of your back in the other. He felt his own tears rolling down his cheeks, determined to keep them hidden from you. The smell of you was driving him insane as it was all those years ago - apparently, you still used the expensive perfume he used to buy you whenever you ran out of it.

“Just so you know,” you sobbed into his shoulder. “I come here every week only because I hope you’ll somehow be here.” With that you pulled away, searching for something in his expression. “Pathetic, right?” you added self consciously, laughing nervously at yourself.

“I thought I was too late,” Jun-ho said, leaning his forehead against yours. To hell with everything else. He had you right at that moment all for himself and you were all that mattered. “I’ve loved you for so long, Y/N, all those years we spent apart but I thought-“

“You are late,” you clarified, a smile spreading across your features, tears still running down that perfect face. “But lucky for you, Jun-ho, I’ve been waiting.”

Oh, he was lucky indeed.

#hwang jun ho #hwang jun ho x reader #hwang jun ho x you #jun ho x reader #hwang junho #hwang junho x reader #junho x reader #squid game #squid game 2 #squid game 2 x reader #squid game x reader #squid game x you #squid game x y/n #hwang inho #front man #gi hun

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ferrarifinnick · 4 months ago

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FOCUS | KANG DAE-HO (PLAYER 388) AU

pairing: dae-ho (player 388) x gymgirl!reader AU genre: fluff; in an alternate universe where dae-ho doesn't enter the games. summary: dae-ho can't keep his eyes off his gym crush, but she has some things to say about his manners. warnings: rewritten! suggestive content, shy!dae-ho, dae-ho checking reader out, lust, confrontation, sweat, partial nudity ? (sports bra), flirting, teasing, intimidation, a man who YEARNS. 1.2k

dae-ho tried to focus on lifting the dumbbells. the stretch of his muscles, the music playing softly in the background of the gym, he tried to focus on it. but his gaze kept drifting to you. clad in only sweatpants and a sport bra, you lifted nearly as much weight as him, but unlike dae-ho, you made it look easy. the only giveaway was the shiny gleam of sweat on your body.

it was just sweat. it wasn’t unlike anyone else hard at work in the gym, and it certainly wasn’t anything to be enamoured by. but if that were true, why couldn’t he tear his eyes away from it? away from you.

every time you dropped the bar and took a quick rest, he snapped his head back down to his shoes and tried to look busy. he fiddled with his shoe laces, pulled up his socks, even redid the topknot holding up half his hair. all to hide from your suspicion.

he gave it another moment before he took one last glance, only this time, you were staring right back at him.

he dropped his head before you could see the heat rushing into his red cheeks. his water bottle suddenly a point of fascination as he examined and drank from it, hoping to blend in. to seem normal. like your hands on your hips and the scowl you shot him wasn’t frightening.

dae-ho decided to call it a day. he pulled the hoodie over his head, snatched up his belongings, even readied his car keys to make a quick escape as he fled to the exit. he rushed past a little old lady power-walking on a nearby treadmill, but her pace was no match for dae-ho’s. he reached the door, could see the light of day pouring in from the street outside, he could see freedom.

so why did he turn around to look at you one last time?

more importantly, why weren’t you still at your machine? he glanced around, catching sight of so many girls but not one of them was you.

"looking for me?"

his head whipped around so fast it nearly unscrewed and fell to the floor. you stared up at him, hands on your hips, waiting for an explanation.

dae-ho's lips opened and closed, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't force any words out of them. the narrowing of your eyes didn't help him find his voice, and the impatient sigh only made him shudder.

"well?" you urged. “why have you been staring at me for half an hour? what’s your problem?”

dae-ho swallowed. "i'm sorry, you're just–" really fucking hot, he wanted to say, but his mother would ring him by his neck if she ever heard him speak to a girl like that. those were thoughts to remain in his head, where they belonged.

"i'm just what?" you asked, and the frustration seemed to only be simmering with his silence.

"pretty," he blurted before he could help it, and the heat burned his cheeks the moment it dawned on him that he'd said it not only out loud but straight to your face. "i mean, that's not what i meant–i mean you are pretty, beautiful actually, but–no, that's not–" he let out an overwhelmed whine, squeezing his eyes shut as a last resort to escape you.

you reached out, the palm of your hand resting gently on his forearm. he nearly flinched at your touch, but when he caught the glint of amusement in your eyes, he relaxed.

"hey," you cooed. "i'm only messing with you."

the relief washed over his face and every tightened muscle suddenly released. “oh,” he said, unsure if he should laugh or run out the door. but when you giggled, he changed his mind and wished the ground would open up and swallow him whole. he didn’t know much about impressing girls, but he knew it was never a good sign for one to laugh in his face.

“where were you running off to?” you asked, gesturing to the car keys hanging from his index finger.

“oh, just… home,” he said, and immediately cursed internally for not convincing you he lived a more exciting life.

you hummed, unconvinced. “seemed like you were in quite a big rush just to go back home,” you said, nodding down at his full bottle of water and weightlifting belt he hadn’t used during today’s gym session.

he slowly looked back up to you. “i was… tired,” he lied.

“bullshit,” you suddenly said, and his eyes flew open at your accusation. the crossing of your arms only pushed your breasts together, and he tried desperately to ignore the curve of them heaving up and out from under your sports bra. but the light was catching the sweat on your skin, and even though he had been raised better, he couldn’t help himself from glancing down for the fraction of a second.

he snapped his eyes back up to yours, but it was too late. you caught him. he knew for certain as your lips pulled into a smirk.

he gulped, desperately trying to swallow the lump in his throat in case you asked another question. but you didn’t, you just stepped closer, and dae-ho realised this was worse than anything you could ever say.

you didn’t touch him, but as he glanced down at the closing proximity of your bodies, he was afraid one deep breath would push his chest against yours. you glanced up at him, the light catching your mischievous eyes.

“you were running away from me, weren’t you?”

he was wrong. maybe your words were just as daunting as your proximity.

he didn’t have to worry about responding, because the sheepishness in his face said everything he couldn’t.

you smirked as you caught him glance down at your lips, and you swore you heard his breath catch in his throat. “aw,” you cooed again, and the way your eyes softened almost had his knees giving out. “do i make you nervous?”

your relentless gaze made him feel like his back was against the wall, caged by your presence, but really he had the whole gym behind him. he could run away, he could free himself, but some part of him, the one that enjoyed the thrill of your attention, forced him to stay put.

besides, what was the point? you were onto him, and saving face wasn’t something he could achieve anymore. so he finally swallowed that lump and nodded. “yes,” he said, because the sweat dripping down his temple wasn’t from weights but the weight of your gaze.

you suddenly grinned. “honest, i like that.” suddenly you reached into your pocket and pulled out a slip of paper. “i’m going to the cafe across the street,” you said, lifting up the paper for him to see five out of six stamps printed in it. “they do a great hot chocolate, and i’ve only got one more to buy until i get a free one.”

he nodded along. “that’s a good deal.”

you repressed the laughter bubbling in your throat and instead asked, “what’s your name?”

“dae-ho,” he said, and for the first time he sounded sure of himself.

you told him your name, and said, “dae-ho, would you like to come with me to the cafe?” you tapped the paper against his chest lightly, cheeks stretching as you grinned. “i’ll get you a hot chocolate?”

he processed your offer slowly, and although he had to study your face for any signs of mean spirited teasing, he eventually realised you were serious.

“yes!” he said, and quickly cleared his throat to try again, this time without being so eager. “yes!” he said again, but it came out just the same.

you grinned. “great answer, dae-ho.”

you lead him out onto the busy street of your gym, pointing out the cafe just a few doors down. it stood on the other side of the busy street, a stream of commuters and tourists blocking the path. you turned to dae-ho and offered him your hand.

“don’t want you running away again,” you teased, and he finally lost the sheepishness in his eyes.

he took your hand, and while it was much smaller than his, he felt comforted by your confidence as you pulled him across the street. but even in a sea of people, you were still the only one he could seem to focus on.

hehe i love subby dae-ho. please like, comment, reblog. love <3

#dae-ho x reader #player 388 x reader #kang dae-ho x reader #kang daeho x reader #squid game x reader #squid games x reader #kang haneul x reader #daeho imagine #dae-ho imagine #kang daeho imagine #kang dae-ho imagine #daeho fluff #kang daeho fluff #squid game fluff #squid games fluff

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pixiepipedreams · 3 months ago

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♡ ˙ ˖ ✧ — intrusive thoughts, tied up in knots, by the concept of us // in-ho x reader x gi-hun

♡ ⁄ pairing: in-ho x reader x gi-hun ♡ ⁄ warnings & tags: fem!reader, canon-typical violence & death, obsessive behavior, lying/manipulation, age gap (reader is 20-22, in-ho & gi-hun are late 40s, early 50s) ♡ ⁄ wordcount: 6.9k ♡ ⁄ summary: the second vote holds no promises for a brighter future, and both in-ho and gi-hun find themselves contemplating the ever intriguing player 132. THIS IS PART THREE OF A SERIES! (➊) (➋) (➍)

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵ ﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

In-ho had dedicated his youth to policing the criminals of Seoul, and he has seen the balance of human nature. He had been devoted to fighting the good fight, keeping the criminal population in line, dealing with drunks and abusers and the worst of the worst. He’d never done anything unjust, never used unnecessary force, but still, he’d been tossed to the curb in his hour of need, falsely accused of accepting bribes. Like clay, the cruel hands of the universe shaped him into what he needed to become to survive. The games had been both a blessing and a curse, a way to fight back, to save his wife and unborn child.

None of it had mattered. Every sacrifice was just another digit pressed into his moldable form, so slow and sure that he hadn’t even noticed the difference until he’d received the invitation from Il-nam to front the games. It had felt like a reclamation, a saving grace, a way to hide from the misery of his life as a widower, from the disgust he felt with an uncaring world. When choosing between the lesser of two evils, he chose the more black and white option - give one or two pieces of gum on the bottom of the country’s shoe a chance to unstick themselves and reform, while the rest get tossed and burned like the trash that they are. Like everyone is.

That’s what you should have been.

Another piece of gum, debris, a bag of trash rotting on the side of the road. Another inconsequential player, another layer of scum on this waste of a planet. But at every turn, you surprised him. The optimism in your view of life, the intelligence in your eyes, the strength that you carried even in fear. You pointed out flaws in Gi-hun’s arguments, you challenged In-ho just by existing. He should hate it. He should want to corrupt you, bring you down to his depths of apathy and revulsion with the world.

In a way, he does.

Player 132. (Y/N). You were an unexpected factor in his mission, made all the worse by the fact that you bear the same number he did in 2015. Every flicker of feeling that you cause in him is only accentuated by the closeness the games force the players into, the camaraderie between those meant to be competitors. Despite himself, he feels that same union with his team, as well, celebrating the victories of every passing team in the Pentathlon.

Weakness. Human connection. One that he can work in his favor, a flaw to exploit.

That’s what he pretends the victorious feeling in his chest means while they return to the dorms, but even he can’t deny the high of winning as a team. His sabotage had only made it more delicious that they all made it out alive, and the adrenaline still buzzes in his veins, better than any glass of whiskey.

Your hands fidget nervously as you stare at the player count, wondering how much longer it could be before you find out if Young-il, Gi-hun, and player 222 made it out alive. The bed you sit on is closest to the open concrete floor, and you feel on edge, ready to jump and run at a moment’s notice. The rest of your team is more tucked into the tighter enclosure the bunkbeds make, conversing about the games. Where are they?

“Hey,” player 120 says, her voice soft and assuring, calling for your attention. “132. You surprised me out there. It was really… impressive, honestly. You sure you’ve never played Spinning Top before?”

You look over, smiling faintly, your leg jittering as it bounces in place. “I’ve never played it. Well - in America, we have tops, but you just spin it from the axle. No twine. I guess I just… had a good teacher.”

007 laughs, but covers it quickly with a cough. His mother whacks him on the chest, then turns to you with kind eyes. “Are you and player 001 close? He doesn’t seem like the… helping sort.”

You tilt your head, surprised by the observation. But you can understand it - when Young-il isn’t engaged in conversation, he shows little to no emotion, carries a coldness that seems impenetrable. “We’ve talked,” you say vaguely. “He promised to help me with any games that I don’t quite understand. Since I wasn’t raised here.” You clear your throat, feeling oddly embarrassed, like you’re admitting to some deep secret crush, even though you’ve done nothing of the sort. “What are your guys’ names? So I have something to call you besides a detached number.”

The group goes around sharing names, and you commit them to memory. Whatever the outcome of these games, you refuse to forget any of them. Perhaps it would be too big of a burden to remember everyone’s name who’s already died, would haunt you until your own end, but it feels like a bigger sin to not know at all.

Light discussion starts, easy joking, but you can’t focus, your eyes flicking from the group to the door as you wait endlessly. Where are they?

When his team returns to the dorms, In-ho’s eyes instantly find you, a locked missile on target. You’re sitting near your team, but still separate, disengaged. Another curiosity - despite your disposition, and your apparent friendly nature, you keep yourself apart. Perhaps you recognize the truth he’s accepted long ago - despite any kinship one might feel with a person, or a group, everyone is on their own at the end of the day. Family, friends, coworkers, passing acquaintances, they all fall away to serve their own needs. It takes you less than a second to meet his eyes, and his stomach clenches at the way you instantly relax, sheer relief etched into the line of your posture. He’s not foolish enough to assign his own reaction to unease.

He gives you the tentative smile that Young-il would give, but his eyes are dark. Whatever cocktail you stir inside him, he knows that your own reaction to him is much simpler. Attraction, maybe. Comfort, certainly. Why him, of all people, instead of Gi-hun, or that player, 120, that you’d spoken to before, he can’t begin to comprehend. Is his mask that good, his performance so inviting? No, it’s not quite that. He needs to dig into your mind, unravel the knots into understanding. Perhaps the knots are his own.

He follows his team with a sense of purpose, duty, forcing himself to look away and your warm, relieved smile, that churning in his mind feeling so out of place in the typically still waters of his mind. As they sit, he shakes his head, focusing on the group, his team.

“I’m sorry about earlier. I don’t know what happened,” he says, infusing a sheepish embarrassment into his words, his hands clenching the metal of the bench as his shoulders tuck forward.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Dae-ho says quickly, his voice overlapping with Gi-hun’s own assurance.

“What happened earlier?”

In-ho’s spine straightens on instinct at the sound of your voice, and he forces himself to relax, looking up, oddly surprised to see you step up to their group. He shouldn’t be. His eyes trace over you, as if checking for wounds, even though he saw you escape earlier entirely unscathed. Your hair is a bit messy, the grease of not showering settling in, and your hands are shoved into your pockets, an infused nonchalance to the posture. You make a concerted effort to look at everyone in the group before your eyes land on In-ho.

His mouth goes dry.

“Ah, it’s nothing,” Jung-bae says with a small grin, always playful and easing the tension. “Big bad number one over here just struggled on his game. We made it out, though! So nothing to worry about.”

“If he hadn’t helped me in Jegi with the final kick, we never would’ve made it,” Gi-hun adds, a trace of his old smile on his lips, trying to comfort whatever tension in him that he’s sensing.

Your eyes narrow, searching In-ho, in a different manner than he just analyzed you. Like you know something. That intelligence you hide behind easy smiles flashes in full force, but then it’s gone, any concerns or comments you had not even reaching your throat. “I’m glad you all made it,” you say finally, smiling, and your eyes flick to player 222. “Especially you.”

She meets your gaze, a quiet appreciation in her expression. She nods her head slightly, unable to express her true gratitude, and that’s another thing that In-ho doesn’t wish to think about. The pregnant player. Another barnacle on the world’s ship, but perhaps the way he closed off his feelings after the passing of his wife had left some backdoors open for unwanted sympathy. He refuses to wonder about what the outcome would be if his wife had entered the games instead of him, refuses to imagine her in this place, founded on cruelty and equality.

She would have died either way. There’s no reason to wonder, to feel the sick twist in his gut.

In-ho rocks in place, unable to tell if it’s the surge of his own undesired emotions or the act of Young-il that causes it. “222, are you doing alright?” he asks, but doesn’t care. He doesn’t.

“Yeah. Thank you all for including me on your team,” she replies with a slight bow of her head, and In-ho catches a soft smile on your lips, likely comforted by the fact that you genuinely helped her.

“She smashed that ddakji and flipped it on her first try!” Jung-bae adds, grinning. 222 ducks her head, hiding a proud smile. “And for a pregnant lady, you were fast, too. We were lucky she joined our team.” His eyes flick to you, and In-ho clenches his jaw briefly. There’s too much ease in Jung-bae’s words, in every conversation, and he finds it grating - both with Gi-hun and you. In-ho’s eyes flick to Gi-hun, his own expression dry of any emotion or reaction.

Gi-hun is already looking at you.

He hadn’t heard the conversation the two of you had last night, too far away at the time, but he had watched. Observed. Even not knowing what passed between the pair, he knew that some sort of understanding had been reached, that you hadn’t taken your eyes off him for a moment.

That earlier, when you brought the pregnant woman to his team, you’d looked at Gi-hun first.

The conversation continues, and In-ho laughs in all the right moments, in the bond over the victory, but he keeps you in his line of vision. When Dae-ho stands next to you, his eyes land on the distance between you both, a sour feeling in his gut, like bile.

“Perhaps we should learn each other’s names. I still don’t know any of your names. I’ll start.” He gives his name, and its meaning. Huge tiger. In-ho suppresses a laugh - which is an odd feeling. Laughter doesn’t come easily to him anymore, and fighting to keep it down is unfamiliar. Jung-bae gives his next, because of course he does.

When player 222 offers hers - Kim Jun-hee, a name that instantly gets engraved in his mind - he can’t seem to help the words bubbling from his lips. “Jun-hee, when we get out of here, you should head straight to a hospital. You’ve been under a lot of stress. You need to get yourself checked out.”

“Okay,” she replies softly.

“I’m Oh Young-il,” In-ho adds, tossing his false name into the ring. Amusement rises in his chest - it’s likely that no one will look too closely at his name, or assume he’s lying, but he’d been rather proud of the joke of it all. Right down to the last detail, of taking Il-nam’s family name. Flying right under Gi-hun’s nose.

“Young-il?” Jung-bae repeats, arching a brow.

“Yes. ‘Young-il’ sounds like ‘zero one,’ and that’s my number,” he explains with a playful smile, his finger pointing to the patch on his chest. His eyes meet yours, catching the way they narrow. It would make sense that you hadn’t put the pun together yourself, and he gets the cold feeling that you’re suspicious of him. You, of all people. It isn’t that you come off as naive, but you had trusted him so easily last night, allowing him to sit with his hand in your hair as you fell asleep. He had assumed you didn’t see through his manipulations, the strings he pulled in the world of these games.

The group shares a laugh over his name, but not you. You arch a brow, smiling, but with that sharp look in your eyes. “The gamemakers must have a sense of humor,” you murmur wryly, but that coldness spreads in his body. Everyone else chuckles, but In-ho knows there’s more to your statement.

And he realizes there might be even more to you than he thought.

“And you?” he asks quickly, looking to Gi-hun. “Your full name, I mean. I only know you as Gi-hun.” Another lie, so little in comparison to the rest.

“Oh, right, um… Seong Gi-hun is my full name,” he replies quietly, eyes flicking between In-ho and you. Curious.

“Seong - that literally means last name, doesn’t it?” he asks, feeling almost nervous. It’s not the right word, but the strange tightness in his chest can’t seem to be described any other way. He laughs, his chuckles rolling off him through the anxious energy, at his own bad joke.

Nobody else laughs, but there’s a flicker of amusement in your expression. “Like our ‘un-Seong hero’?” you add, voice laced with humor as you speak in English for the first time in his presence. He laughs harder, not expecting the cheesy joke from your lips, and you laugh too.

Such a delightful sound. Something bright and sweet, like the sky on a cloudless day in a past that’s long gone. There’s a couple chuckles in the group, but nobody laughs as much as the two of you do. Somehow, you make him feel like Young-il, the man he used to be, and In-ho, the man he’s become, the man he’s always been underneath it all.

The doors open, guards filing in, and the joviality of the room quiets, stills. Any small relief that the groups have managed to find after escaping the last game with their lives dissipates. You tear your eyes away from Young-il, your mind churning, twisting over the information, but it’s hard to stay focused on his potential deceptions with the gut-dropping recognition of the button being wheeled in.

“Congratulations to all of you for making it through the second game.” The head guard stands in the center of the group of pink-clad soldiers, the rigid square on his face an indicator of his rank. The lights turn off, the now-familiar glow of golden light shining down on them as the pig takes the spotlight above their heads. “Here are the results of the second game. In the second game, 110 players were eliminated.” The familiar chiptune plays as the bank above everyone's head fills with bundles of won, counting the bodies that had been bloodily removed from the schoolyard scene of the last game. “The prize money accumulated up to this point is 20.1 billion won. Since there are 255 players remaining, each person’s share is 78,823,530 won.”

Uproar. People start shouting out complaints, the ‘O's growing restless at the realization that even with so many dead, the split of the prize pool isn't enough. Even for you, that amount isn’t enough to settle your father’s debts and pay his medical bills.

In-ho has to hide a smirk, even as something inside him clenches. Just as expected, desperate greed wins over the lives of the people whose blood invisibly stains the prize pool. He eyes Gi-hun, who stares around the room, cataloguing the people complaining with barely disguised loathing. Gi-hun, who has never been able to look past the cost of all that money to see the freedom it grants. In-ho can hardly judge. He’s barely touched his own money, after all.

“I completely understand your disappointment. However, we always keep the door open for you to pursue new opportunities. You will now take a vote to decide whether to continue the games or not. Whether to continue the games for a bigger prize or to stop here is entirely your choice. Please feel free to exercise your right to choose in a democratic manner.” The guard’s voice is clinical, rehearsed, and a sick feeling twists at your gut. Just how many games have there been? How many times has he said these exact words?

And the implication slams into you, the easy manipulation of the words. The vote hasn’t even happened yet, and you already know the outcome. Desperation, self-preservation. Nobody is leaving the games today.

“I should go,” you say softly, as the crowd accumulates at the edge of the glowing ‘X’ and ‘O’ separation on the ground. You give a slight bow of your head, turning to leave, feeling displaced, uneasy.

“Wait, (Y/N),” Gi-hun says, halting you in your tracks. Your eyes flick to him, widening. “Stick with our team. You said you, uh, you wanted to fight by… by our side, last night, didn’t you?”

Lips parting, you can’t seem to take your eyes off his face. That wasn’t quite what you said, but based on his shifty expression, he knows that. You said you wanted to fight by his side. The invitation still surprises you, but underneath that surprise is a warmth at being included, at him asking you to stay. You nod, smiling a little. “I would appreciate that, thank you. And, if it’s at all possible, if… if we end up staying for another game, I’d like for us to try and keep an eye out for the team that kept me alive today.” If. You don’t want to crush their spirits with the foresight you currently hold.

Gi-hun’s eyes soften, smiling just a little, but it feels like a victory. You find yourself craving more of that smile, to see the full force that used to come easily to him, if the lines of his face are anything to go by. “We’ll do our best,” he replies, his voice just as soft as those eyes. He must be a very kind man. You get a little lost, looking at him, at the lingering cloak of who he once was. "We have to end the games here,” he adds, turning to the group. “I will help you all with my winnings from the first game when we get out. Please trust me, and vote to leave.”

“Don’t worry,” Young-il adds, eyes locked on Gi-hun. “I want to stop here too. I should go.”

“Yeah,” Gi-hun says, his eyes softening as he looks back at Young-il. “You should be with your wife at the hospital.”

And then you freeze. Wife. Your lips stay closed, but your eyes widen a fraction, feeling a horrible sense of disappointment that takes you by surprise. It shouldn’t be shocking, you should have suspected it, seen the train coming at you full force. He’s twice your age, it makes sense for him to be married - hell, Gi-hun probably has a wife too.

Young-il’s frozen too, and his eyes slowly slide to meet yours from the side. His expression is unreadable, and he doesn’t respond for a moment, his lips parting. Then he looks back at Gi-hun, giving a smile that seems a little tight around the edges. “I’ve been away too long,” he responds quietly, agreeing.

The group chatters, quickly agreeing to all vote to leave. Deep in your gut, you know it’s not enough. But you’re not thinking about that, not in this moment. You’re thinking about Young-il’s hands on yours, guiding you through the motions of spinning an invisible top. You’re thinking about him cradling you to his chest, of the details of his face that you don’t dare to look at now. And you come to the realization that you’re well and truly fucked.

“Guys, all huddle up again,” Dae-ho calls, drawing your attention to him. He’s much easier to focus on than Young-il or Gi-hun. He juts his hand out, arm rigid and straight, into the center of the group. Everyone lays their hands on Dae-ho’s, and you hesitate, before setting yours down last. It’s strange, being a part of a group. “In one, two, three. Victory at all costs!”

“Victoryat all costs!” You all call back.

The voting is in reverse order, this time. Young-il doesn’t hesitate before pressing the ‘X’, but there are a few surprises - namely, two of your old teammates pressing ‘O’. But you can’t blame them. Even with Gi-hun’s offer to pay off your group’s debts, you don’t know what to pick. Hyun-ju hasn’t received that same offer, nor has Young-sik.

Player after player gets called up, but it’s obvious early on that your vote alone won’t matter. Even if every ‘O’ on your team switches, even if Young-sik and Hyun-ju had voted differently, it wouldn’t be enough.

“Player 132.”

Your body trembles, but your feet move automatically, not sparing a glance for Gi-hun or Young-il. When you reach the buttons, you stare down at the glowing red and blue domes, unblinking. It doesn’t matter, does it? What button you press? You already know the outcome. You feel a horrible guilt at the idea of taking Gi-hun’s money, just another stack soaked in blood. The money floating above you may be no different, but at least it’s from your competition - the cost of your own survival, not his.

You press ‘X’. It won’t be a close vote, not by a longshot, so your ‘X’ serves no purpose other than to prove to Gi-hun that you stand with him. Your mind is still detached as you step to the red side, standing next to Young-il but refusing to look at him.

He leans closer to you, heat prickling at your skin from his proximity. “(Y/N),” he murmurs. You bite the inside of your cheek, not reacting. You feel ridiculous, like the little kid you haven’t been in so many years right now, crushing on a married guy. It isn’t his fault. Maybe he felt protective of you, just because you’re only in your 20s. He never actually did anything untoward.

His hand in your hair, stroking it until you fell asleep. Comforting, safe, but not wrong.

The blue crowd cheers on their side - another recruit to continue the games. He sighs softly, settling a hand on your arm. Your body jolts, despite yourself, a zing running through you, your eyes flicking up to meet his despite yourself. “I–”

“Excuse me, everyone!” Gi-hun’s voice rings out across the room, taking command of it. Your breath catches, head turning to stare at him as he walks toward the center. Ever since the first game, he’s been magnetic, unignorable. Young-il’s hand tightens on your arm, then drops, and he suddenly steps forward before Gi-hun can make it to the open space.

“Are you all out of your minds?” Young-il shouts, sending a shiver through you. Your eyes flick to him, stunned. “You still want to keep going after watching all those people die? Who’s to say you won’t die in the next game? We have to stop. We’ll all die if we keep going! Come to your senses, and leave with that money.”

You feel like you’re waiting for something - maybe the guards to step in, to shout that interruptions to the voting process aren’t allowed, for one of them to press a gun to Young-il’s head. But it doesn’t come.

Players from the ‘O’ side step up to argue, including the detestable player 100. But your eyes drift back to Gi-hun, watching him watch Young-il. Touched isn’t the right word, but Young-il joining him in protesting the continuation of these sadistic games definitely affects him. Gi-hun’s eyes are huge, relieved, to not be fighting for this alone. Awe doesn’t fit any better, but it’s the only thing your mind comes up with.

“If we play one more game, the prize will be at least 240 million!”

For some reason you cannot decipher, it’s Gi-hun’s expression that pushes you to step forward, into the aisle. “And if you die?” you say, your words sharp, eyes flicking to player 043, who had just spoken. “Almost a third of the players died in this last game. What makes you think you’re special enough to make it out? You’re all cowards, just hoping as many people as possible die. You’re not fucking invincible - everyone here has the same odds of getting out. Do you feel so lucky? There’s 255 of us left - if another 110 die, that’s almost half of us. 50/50 odds - a coin flip. Heads, you win - tails, you’re gone forever, and you’ll be the one who dug that grave.”

Silence, for just a moment. Then, player 095 - Young-mi, you remind yourself, Young-mi - sobs, tears streaming down her face, pleading with the other players to not continue these games. Pity wrenches through your gut, and again, you wonder what someone so fragile could have done to end up here. How she ever called the number on that business card after being slapped by the recruiter. You find yourself unable to look at her, your eyes finding Gi-hun’s once more. Something akin to dread builds in his expression, but there’s a quiet gratitude laying under the surface.

Young-il steps between you two, eyes locking on yours for just a moment before scanning the crowded ‘O’ side.

“If you die here, your family won’t even get your body. Then it’d be the end for you and your family! Don’t you see?” Young-il shouts, but the ‘O’s are beyond hearing. Their arguments are solid enough, but they refuse to acknowledge on thing - that every single one of them is praying that as many people as possible will die, besides themselves. It doesn’t take long for them to start up a chant, mob mentality kicking in, spreading like an airborne virus.

“One more game! One more game!”

A chill runs through you. Those words were exactly what you had thought during the first vote. One more. Just one more.

The vote continues, digital numbers climbing higher and higher, and you can’t bear to watch. Knowing the way something ends is much different from watching it all happen. Will you survive one more? And what about the one after that? There’s little chance that the vote will turn back to your team’s favor - at least, not while player 100 is alive. 10 billion won owed… that man won’t rest until there’s at least only four players left, splitting the prize into 11.4 billion per person.

Gi-hun’s posture is slumped in the glow of his red vote, and your heart aches for him. He’s a good man, you know it deep in your soul. How a man like that could possibly win such cruel games is beyond you. And to be the only one to make it out alive…

Your feet take you to his side before your mind catches up. “Gi-hun,” you murmur, your hand grabbing his wrist. He goes still, statuesque, but you persist. “Please, can we… can we talk?”

A few breaths pass, but he nods, turning to you, his wrist slipping from your hand. He looks down at his arm, then his eyes meet yours. He feels… strange. It’s the same tightness in his chest as he felt earlier, when you approached his team with Jun-hee in tow. There was no guarantee that his team would do better than any other, especially since he hadn’t known the game going in. But the look in your eyes as they met his, a desperate edge to them, but not desperate on your own behalf… it had stunned him into silence. He wasn’t able to speak. It wasn’t the desperation, but the sheer trust that affected him so. You had trusted him with two lives, neither one of them your own. He’s not worthy of that trust. Every life that has been entrusted to his care, with the exception of two, has met a violent end. Both you and Young-il, so firm in your belief of him. He wants to apologize now, for not speaking up when you asked for his help. But what could he say? He can’t explain his reaction, the stunned twist of his chest the way he’d been trapped in your gaze. The way his mind had fit the puzzle pieces into place to paint a clear picture of his understanding of your character.

Your eyes are wide, intense as they meet his. “What is it?” he asks quietly, his brows furrowing, his lips set in the frown he’s worn for years now. “Are you alright?”

You huff out a breath, nodding, the intensity never leaving your expression. “Yes, but… Well. I had a few questions,” you say slowly, your expression pinching, as though you’re holding something back.

“A few questions,” he repeats dumbly, rubbing at his wrist, still feeling the warmth of your hand. He hasn’t been touched, not gently, in years now. “About?”

You swallow, and his eyes follow the bob of your throat, chest seizing with that strange tightness. “About… about your games. If you don’t mind. I know it’s a hard subject, but… We need to plan ahead, to think more about how this will all play out.” He just gives you a blank stare. Faintly, he feels himself nod for you to continue. “At this point in the games, how… how many people were left, in yours?”

Gi-hun’s brows furrow, and he tries to think, beyond the blood splatters on the playground scene, beyond the sounds of gunshots, beyond his tongue desperately working to melt the sugar honeycomb candy. “About 100,” he says finally, taking a deep, shuddering breath.

“Oh, wow,” you mutter, eyes flicking up to the board. “So… 155 less than we have now. You really must have saved a lot of people this time around, interfering in that first game.”

His eyes squeeze shut for just a moment, remembering the weight of a body pinning him to the ground, after the first death caused a stampede of people attempting to escape. But… but you’re right. So many more people died in his first Red Light, Green Light game. “And?” he asks tiredly, rubbing his forehead, trying to focus on this room, not that giant field filled with blood. To not remember revisiting it later, when it was empty, with only one opponent. Sang-woo. He flinches, tries to cover it with a cough, but when his eyes meet yours, he can tell he wasn’t fooling you.

“Sorry, it’s just… Well, it’s impressive. You’ve given more people a chance, here.” You cross your arms, shoulders hunching up, but your eyes don’t leave his. “They said it was new, allowing the players to vote after every round. You didn’t have that choice?”

“No… well. If the players called a vote, and the majority decided to leave, then the money would be split among the deceased players’ families. None of the surviving players would get anything. My…” His jaw clenches on reflex, and he shakes his head. “One player called for a vote, after the first game.”

“And everyone chose to stay?” you ask, brow furrowing.

“No… no, actually. We all left. But they gave us the option to return. Most of us did,” he explains quietly, eyes flicking around the room, finding it hard to look at you as he answers the stream of questions, the tightness in his chest only growing.

You pause, taking that in, your breaths even beside him, almost meditative. He peers at you out of the corner of the eye, taking in the contemplative twist of your lips. “Why would they change the rule?” The question stuns him, and he doesn’t have an answer. If anything, it might be because of him. To prove a point. But that feels too self-important to say, to admit that the Front Man may be choosing to play a separate game with him at the cost of hundreds of lives. But you don’t wait for an answer, sucking in a quiet breath. “How many people made it to the final game?”

His eyes flutter shut. “Two. Is that all of your questions?” he asks, voice a bit too sharp, now. Raw emotions threaten to crash over the dam he’d built in his mind. Memories, he can handle. But they don’t exactly have therapy for the kind of trauma he went through, and every emotion goes unsorted.

Silence. Gi-hun opens his eyes, squinting at you, feeling oddly guilty. It’s not your fault, not really. But this isn’t a subject he’s spoken openly about, ever, and he feels like a stripped wire. “Yes, sir,” you mutter, arms tightening across your chest. “I’m just trying to figure out the best way to convince these people to leave. One of them needs 10 billion - that means he won’t rest until there’s only 4 players left. If not less. I’m sure the gamemakers will want to cut the number of players by more than half in the next game, to try and make the final games closer.”

His eyes slowly open more as you speak, surprised by the observations. They’d tickled at the back of his head, but he’d been operating on blind determination this entire time. Analysis has never been his strong suit, though admittedly he’s gotten better at it in the years since his own game. You remind him of…

He bites the inside of his cheek, almost hard enough to draw blood. “Yeah,” he agrees, his voice quieting to something softer. “You don’t need to call me sir,” and those words are just blurted out, spilling like a bowl of ramen after too much soju. It’s the last thing that he should have focused on, but it feels wrong, to have you call him something so impersonal. “I’m sorry for being short with you, it’s just that… I don’t speak about that time.” He reaches out, but aborts the motion halfway through, his hand hanging in the air. What the hell is wrong with him? “You say that you think they’ll try to cut the players by more than half?”

You nod, your eyes softening as you look up at him. “We need to keep our team together next round. To keep as many of us alive as we can, but also… because we’re the only votes that can be guaranteed to be ‘X’ next time.”

Resourceful and compassionate. Something inside him aches as he nods, feeling struck dumb. “You said you were a student, didn’t you?” he asks, eyes roaming over your features as you blink back at him.

“Uh… yeah, actually. I spend most of my time studying, to be entirely honest,” you admit, eyeing him curiously. “Why?”

The corners of his lips twist up, a gesture that feels unfamiliar in his life after becoming a billionaire. “Nothing. I can tell, though. I appreciate having your brain to work on this with me.” He pauses, tilting his head. “Is that why you’re here? Student loans?”

You stiffen, eyes widening a fraction, biting your lip. But you nod. “That, and to help my father,” you say vaguely. You have every right to play your cards close to your chest, but he wants them laid out bare, for him to study, learn, understand. The urge terrifies him.

He swallows past the lump in his throat, nodding. Your father. “You shouldn’t be the one bearing your father’s problems,” he mutters. A brief alternate future flashes through his eyes, one where Ga-yeong, as an adult, has to pay his gambling debts, one where he never entered the games. Guilt stabs through him. “What is it? Gambling?”

What he doesn’t expect is the way your expression darkens, your mouth twisting into a frown that doesn’t fit your face. “Housing debts. He hasn’t had a job in a while, and he was never good at holding one down to begin with. Maybe gambling - I haven’t asked.” Your face is pinched, your lips a distractingly cute shape, even in your upset. He feels a bit dizzy, actually, but he shakes it off, feeling an instant aversion for your father. Perhaps it’s because he reminds Gi-hun of who he used to be, who he still could’ve become. “He’s in the hospital,” you add in a hushed tone, but don’t elaborate. He doesn’t want to push you, but he feels a shocking wave of anger. You shouldn’t be here - although he believes that about every person in this room, that nobody deserves to end up in these games, it’s fiercer, more violent when it’s you. Sure, you likely have your own debts as a student, but your father’s incapability shouldn’t be the reason your life is on the line.

“So that’s why you voted to stay after the first game?” he asks, his voice insistent, intense. Angry.

Maybe you think he’s angry at you, because your eyes narrow. “Yes. But I voted ‘X’ this time, didn’t I? Why, is that a problem?”

“He shouldn’t be your responsibility. He should be taking care of you.”

“He’s my father,” you snap back, defensive. “He’s the only person I have in this country, the only parent I have left. I’m not–” You cut yourself off, eyes oddly shiny, and it takes him a moment to realize that you’re tearing up. His mouth opens, then clamps shut, his expression clearing itself of the white-hot anger he’d felt. His hand reaches out, taking your upper arm in his grasp. Right. Your father is in the hospital, and here he is, practically yelling at you for giving a damn, just because it made him uncomfortable to be speaking to someone on the other side of the situation he had been in years ago.

His own mother’s death sits in his chest, unresolved, clumsily compartmentalized along with every other horrible thing he’s had to deal with. The guilt of eternally letting her down, until the very end. Of not even being by her side in her last moments. Of Ga-yeong, thousands of miles away, and the way these games got in the way of everything and everyone he cared about.

“I’m sorry,” he says quickly, his eyes wide, flicking between your own.

Gi-hun hadn’t said anything that you hadn’t already crossed your mind. Your own guilt feels like lead in the pit of your stomach, Gi-hun’s words mirroring your worst thoughts. His apology stings, a slap to the face. Why should he be sorry? You feel sick. “Whatever, alright? It’s fine.” You rub at your eyes, at the tears that never fell. “We all have baggage.” Yours just happens to be a sick, indebted father, and a strained relationship with your dead mom. “I voted to leave, even though that money up there isn’t enough to cover it all. Whatever your baggage is, beyond these damn games, isn’t my fault, and you shouldn’t be taking it out on me.” Gi-hun just stares at you, wide-eyed, looking a little younger. Not by very much - but he looks like the man he might’ve been, before his first time in these games.

A thought bubbles up like a laugh, that it’s probably been a while since he was last scolded by a woman for hurting her feelings.

He presses his lips together, eyes darting to the side, and you realize, belatedly, that his hand is still warm on your arm. “I’m sorry,” he repeats, softer this time. “I told you, though, I’ll give you enough money to cover your debts. Your father’s, too.” He squeezes your shoulder, his other hand partially raised, almost in surrender.

You would laugh if that sentiment doesn’t twist the knife in deeper, despite being well-intentioned. “I already feel horrible enough, taking the blood money from this game,” you reply, voice tight. “I don’t know if I can handle your ghosts on top of my own.”

Gi-hun’s expression twists, but there’s a deep understanding in his eyes. “Please. If that money is good for anything, it’s helping people escape the same fate that others couldn’t.”

Your insides are churning, a befuddling mixture of guilt, pain, understanding, appreciation, and… something else, something you shove deep down. If your feelings for Young-il were misplaced, you refuse to make the same mistake twice. But something about Gi-hun tells you that he’s unmarried, unattached. A man with any kind of relationship in the outside world, filial or romantic, wouldn’t come back to a place like this.

“If we make it out,” you finally reply, your shoulders dropping, arms loosening. Gi-hun nods, his expression drawing in at the reminder. One more game. “I’m still with you, Gi-hun. I trust you.”

He smiles, just a little, and finally releases your shoulder, albeit hesitantly. There’s something strange in his eyes, stress or guilt or something more. As you finally walk away, you don’t let yourself wonder, don’t let yourself get caught up in frivolous emotions for a man who carries too much weight to ever let someone else lighten the load. And you pretend you don’t feel Young-il’s eyes watching you as you take a bed in the corner with Gi-hun’s group, choosing to lay down and stare at the mattress above you, trying not to think of anything at all.

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵ ﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

♡ ⁄ taglist: @pursued-by-the-squid @in-hos-wife @bloooooopblopblop <33333 @nellabear @gloriousjellyfisharcade @politicstanner @xcinnamonmalfoyx @beebeechaos @delfinadolphin @bbrainr0t @ineedazeezee @watasinekoru @solarpotato @nerdytif @speedymagazinewhispers @machipyun @dilfismz

#front man x reader #hwang in ho x reader #in ho x reader #in ho x you #the frontman x reader #gi hun x reader #gi hun x you #seong gi hun x reader #the frontman x you #front man x you #squid game fic #squid game fanfic #oh young il x reader #hwang in ho x you #young il x you #young il x reader

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arc-misadventures · 26 days ago

Text

It's My Turn

Jaune: Okay... we've got another demon to defeat... Based on the reports I got from the guild, they're a mid level demon, specializes in wind magic.

Ren: A wind demon? Those are rare. Most demons tend to specialize in dark, and shadow magic, but rarely do they specialize in one type of the four primordial elemental magics.

Jaune: Which is why were adventures were called in.

Ren: The Demon Hunters couldn't beat this demon?

Jaune: No, the Demon Hunters specialize in anti-demon magic. Mainly light magic, and fire magic.

Ren: Cleansing, and purging?

Jaune: Pretty much. They couldn't deal with a demon that flies, can avoid their attacks with wind magic, and even deflect them back at them. Well, mostly the other two part, most demons can fly after all. Most, Demon Hunters, don't have similar training that we paladins have. We are trained to have a much more diverse list of skills, and magic in at our disposal.

Ren: Do those skills involve bard levels of seduction?

Jaune: Not everyone demon we fight we sleep with, Ren. We have standards.

Ren: Sure, whatever. Let's go kill this demon.

~~~

Ren: The winds picking up.

Jaune: We must be getting close.

Ren: Alright, how are we going to do this?

Jaune: Lighting magic. It's too fast of an attack for most people to doge, even a demon in flight that specializes in air magic would have a tough time dealing with it.

Ren: Bow, and Shield? Only this time I'm the shield?

Jaune: Think you can do it?

Ren: I can try.

Jaune: Alright then... Let's do this!

Jaune: Prepare to die foul demon!

: Oh~? The Demon Hunters failed so now they send in a pair of adventurers? How cute~!

Jaune: You should be careful! A paladin is leagues above some puny little Demon Hunter!

: Oh~? I've never fought a paladin before~! Alright then... Come one puny paladin! I Reese Chloris will kill you!

Jaune: Bring it bitch! Let's go, Ren?

Ren: ...

Jaune: Ren, let's do this.

Ren: ...

Jaune: Ren?

Ren: ...

Jaune: D-Did you...?

Reese: I didn't do anything...

Jaune: Okay? Hey, Ren! (Snap! Snap!) Oi! Snap out of it!

Ren: Hu, wait what?

Jaune: What happened, you just spaced out on me?

Ren: Ahh... uhh... Time out! I need to have a word with my friend!

Jaune: Time out?! Do seriously think demons will allow a time out?!

Ren: Shut up, and come with me!

Jaune: Whoa hey?!

Reese: Okay...?

~~~

Jaune: Okay, start talking, why did you call a timeout in a literal battle with a demon?!

Ren: How do you do it?!

Jaune: Do what?

Ren: How do you seduce a demon!

Jaune: Excuse me... the fuck did you just say?

Ren: You've seduced several demons before, how do you do it?!

Jaune: Okay, hold up... You... want to smash that demon?

Ren: Is that hard to believe?

Jaune: You wanting to smash a human is hard enough as it is, but a demon?!

Ren: What, I'm an elf we don't have sex drives like you humans do!

Jaune: Elves don't have a sex drive until they enter in what human years would be in there thirties. And, from my experience, elf woman have a hell of a sex drive!

Ren: That's not true!

Jaune: Not true?! Ren, in the eleven kingdom, The Everwood Dynasty, one third of the population are half elves!

Ren: Well, I want to smash the demon girl! Are you going to help me, or what?!

Jaune: ...

Jaune: Haa... Okay... here's what you do... This is the secret elven male seduction technique, so pay attention!

Ren: How do you know a secret elven male seduction technique?

Jaune: Elven courtesans. Now pay attention!

Ren: Yes!

Jaune: Okay... Take off your hood, and show off your face. Give the demon a side eye glance, and throw her a wink.

Ren: And, then what?

Jaune: Smash.

Ren: Hold up... The secret elven male seduction technique: Is to show my face, give her a side eye, and wink at her? That's it?!

Jaune: Elven males have an unfair advantage... Now, shut up, and smash the demon!

Ren: Okay, okay...

~~~

Ren: Hey, Demon! Uhh... Reese?!

Reese: Oh, your back... Where's your friend?

Ren: He left me behind to deal with you!

Reese: Oh? Tell me then you rouge, how do you plan to defeat me~?

Ren: Okay... take off my hood, and show my face...

Reese: Oh, you're an elf?

Ren: Side eye glance...

Reese: Oh~? Such vibrant pink eyes~!

Ren: And, the wink!

Reese: EEP~?!

Ren: ...

Ren: Did that work...?

~~~

Glynda: You told him the secret elven male seduction technique?

Jaune: The guy has never shown romantic interest before, he need advice, so I gave him some.

Glynda: Do you think it will work?

Jaune: It doesn't seem to effect elven woman such as yourself, Glynda. As for it's effects on other species of woman it seems to work. As It seems to have worked for, Ren...

Glynda: Oh my?!

Ren: Hey, Jaune...

Jaune: Ren. You look like shit, did you two smash, or did you have to kill her?

Ren: We... smashed!

Jaune: Oh, good for you, aaaand your falling...

(Thud!)

Jaune: ...

Jaune: You okay bud?

Ren: W-Worth it!

Glynda: I'll call for a priest.

Jaune: Good call...

///

Another art piece inspired from, @lar-mx

Link to ART

#rwby #jaune arc #lie ren #glynda goodwitch #reese chloris

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thefrontmanscockwarmer · 4 months ago

Text

Just Say You Had A Bad Dream

Player 001 x Reader [SMUT] 📸

Masterlist <- Comment on this post to be added to the tag list

Note: you guys know each other from High School.

You woke up a prison room. Not like the guy at the train station advertised AT ALL. Beds lined the walls, with you could only assume 500 people fluttering around, in the same confused state as you. You looked at the giant X and O that marked the floor along with the dividing line. You stretched, muscles tensing as you did.

Some dudes in pink walked in with masked shapes and all of a sudden the room confusion was broken and turned into angry shouting. You saw names and faces on a screen above them, including their debt. You prayed yours wouldn’t show, a cool ₩10.9 million would’ve been embarrassing until you heard a shocking number.

“10 billion won” the room went silent. All looking around for the guy who somehow racked up that much. Silence was quickly broken by him brandishing his debt. You rolled your eyes and laid back down.

Time Skip:

Voting time. After that first game, you were intrigued, wanting to know what else there was to play. The death hadn’t scared you a bit, after all, instructions were clear: move AFTER ‘red light’ and you’re dead. Just like in the real game, you’re out.

“Player 013” your number was called as you walked to go press the O button, regardless of the X’s trying to get you to change your mind. You stood quietly in the back awaiting dinner or bed time, you were hungry and tired. Fuck this you thought, I just wanna eat.

“Player 001” you turned and saw none other than Hwang In Ho. When he joined your vote he joined your group until the pink guys were gone.

He seemed to make friends quickly with another guy, some guy who was screaming earlier during Red Light Green Light. You stood behind him in line for dinner.

“No Fucking way. Hwang In Ho???” You said surprised when he turned his face.

“(Y/n)? What are you doing here?” He looks at you alarmed.

“I’m here to play the game” you say coolly.

“How did you- why- how did you get here?” He asks sternly, pulling you aside.

“Uh same way you did?” You shrug.

“No no no no” he whispers quietly looking around seemingly towards the guards and cameras. “(Y/n), you can’t be here”

“Why not In Ho”

“You can’t call me that either”

You look at him. “Why not?”

“I can’t explain now, but I will eventually. Call me something else.” He looked towards that screaming guy before looking back at you.

“geoboki (turtle)?”

“Seriously, (y/n)?” He deadpans. “You haven’t called me that since high school.” You giggle.

“Well if I can’t call you by your real name, I’ll call you by your nickname, turtle boy” you poke him.

“You know, I really do miss you” he sighs finally. “Look do me a favor, approach me while I’m sitting with those guys later, I’ll make sure you survive” he grabs his food and walks away. Survive? Why would I need him to survive.

Time Skip: Later that Night.

“Come on, dude, I hate to be the one but I have to pee” you say as the pink guy shuts the window. “Fuck this” you say. You hadn’t used the bathroom all day, guess it was too much adrenaline coursing through you before you finally settled down.

“Hey, don’t you hear the lady? She has to pee.” You heard In Hos voice come out from behind you. “Matter of fact, so do I, open up” he bangs on the door. The door soon opened.

“Thanks geoboki” you whisper.

“Listen I need to talk to you” he pulls you into the men’s bathroom and drags you to a stall. “Look, be mad all you want and hate me later but I’m the only chance you’ve got at surviving this shit.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I run them.” He says. “I am the Frontman. They can’t kill me, I am their boss” he searches your face for a clue on what you’re thinking.

“So if I stay with you, I can survive?” He nods. “Okay.” You shrug. “I’m assuming I’m sworn to secrecy?”

“Yes, (y/n)” you nod slowly.

“Can I ask a question?” He raises an eyebrow. “What’re the policies about sex in a bathroom stall?”

“What?”

“We’ve done it once, back in junior year, remember?”

“Yeah, I remember” he smiles faintly as he remembers.

“Just while we’re in here for old times sake” you smile as you press your lips against his. He returns the kiss tilting his head to deepen it further. He sat on the toilet and pulled you onto his lap, you ran your hands through his hair.

“My God, your kisses haven’t changed” he groans before reattaching his lips to yours. He begs entry into your mouth with his tongue, you denied him. You feel him wrap his arms around you and pull you into his erection that’s in the middle of a war with his pants. Pulling a moan from you before pushing his tongue in your mouth.

“Talk about not changing, you pulled the same move on me 15 years later” he chuckles kissing you again. His hand slips into your pants, shoving a finger right into your core. His finger presses on your g-spot, rubbing against it. You feel his thumb tease your clit, having found it by memory. “No, no, I want you” you moan out.

“Then it’s me you’re getting.” He growls, standing up. He pushes his pants down and pulls your down. You kick off your shoes so you can free yourself. He picks you up and slams you against the stall. Dropping you on his angry cock. A guttural groan comes from inside his chest. “Fuck, why are you so tight?”

“Saving myself for you” you joke. He begins pounding into you, burying his face in the crook of your neck, leaving HICKIES on every bare square inch. You moan as he does, raking your fingers through his hair, you reach down into his shirt and dig your claws in.

“Oh god, (y/n), please. I want them to bleed” he groans as he fucks you. He angles and begins hitting your gspot, you nails dragging down his back as he did.

“I’m gonna cum” you groan as he kisses your lips. “Fuck I’m gonna cum”

“Hold it, I’m not done using your pussy yet. It feels too good”

“No no no don’t make me hold it. I can’t hold it” you say erratically. Beginning to lose your grip on reality as your close your eyes and see the entire alignment of the planets behind them.

“I said fucking hold it. I’m close but I’m not done” he growls. He presses his lips to yours again as he starts to moan. You share moans as you both near the climax. “Fuck” he drawls. He thrusts impossibly harder into you. “(Y/n) we’re gonna cum at the same time, I fucking swear. Count down to 5” he says into your neck as he moans.

“5” you say, your voice high and whiny”

“4- fuck I’m gonna come I’m gonna cum” he repeats before making a final thrust into you. You wrap your legs around him to keep them from shaking, feeling the knot inside you finally release, he lets out a few guttural moans as he thrusts slightly and empties himself into your pulsing pussy. You begin to hear your mixed juices hitting the floor in drops as you kiss each other. Heatedly making out yet again, his cock still inside of you. He sits down on the toilet with you on him as you both sigh heavily, your head dazily falling onto his shoulder.

“Holy fuck, I missed you”

“Yeah, I fucking missed you too” he replies pulling hair out of your face.

After getting cleaned up, the pair of you shamefully walk back into the room. Walking to your beds which were by the group of newly found friends were sleeping soundly.

He sat on his bed, gearing up to lay down and sleep the remainder of the night. As you turned to your bed, you felt his hand grip your wrist and pull you into his bed.

“What if they see us cuddled together in the morning” you jokingly as his arms wrapped around you.

“Just say you had a bad dream” he yawns and pulls you into his chest, spooning you. You quickly fall asleep in his arms.

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jynxpsiche · 3 months ago

Note

A Dae-ho x reader where the reader is kind of a sweetheart but is in team thanos. With dae-ho and thanos/Nam gyu having beef with one another because of it lolol if you get what i mean;;

MMMH MMH MMH THAT’S WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT!! ready to create some havoc!! Thank you for requesting! Hope you like the fic!! Likes and reblogs are appreciated!! <3 stay safe and hydrated!!

pretty lady

kang dae-ho x fem!reader | slight f!reader x thanos/nam-gyu

🎐. summary: you were a sight for sore eyes. An angel into a corrupted place like that. Of course you were going to be the attention of most the men there. Especially of two particular boys.

🎐. warnings: slight glinda core, blonde female reader because I said so, canon squid game gore, violence, swearings, jealous and protective dae-ho, not proofread. English is not my first language!

Likes and reposts are appreciated!!

Among all these people you were literally an angel. Your blonde gentle curls bounced with every step you took when you first walked down the aisle to submit your vote.

You felt all the eyes on you but you tried to brush them off and only concentrate on your imminent future. Your expression soft but serious.

Determined you pressed down the X button and with a small grin on your face you wore the corresponding patch on your jacket before joining the others on that side of the room.

You fixed the little pink bow that tied half your hair up and you failed to notice a set of blown wide eyes staring at your petite form from the other side.

Scrutinizing and observing you with deep interest. A smirk popped up on his lips. What an intriguing little creature you were.

Such a cute and delicate flower.

And oh how much he craved you.

What was doing a little doe like you in a place like this? Full of hunters and starving men. Not a single positive thought behind those prying eyes.

Especially his.

Unfortunately for you and the others on your side, the majority had decided to vote to continue playing games and so you were stuck in that place, fighting for your life, for another day.

The crowd had now dispersed, but two factions had now formed, creating great tension in the room.

No one could have been trusted there. And you knew that.

And while you were sitting on your bed bunk, thinking about possible moves or other ways to survive, player 388 observed you from his spot on the stairs, not caring about the conversation his teammates were having.

His eyes slowly admired how the light made your golden locks shine, how small your figure was, your delicate hands and fingers playing nervously, and finally your dove-eyed eyes focused in front of you.

You were on alert.

But even if behind your docile appearance you hid a strong spirit, he felt a sudden feeling bubble up in his chest. An incessant need.

Despite not knowing you, Dae-ho wanted to assure your safety and to keep you away from any type of dangers. Especially the ones in that same dorm.

However, his sudden hobby had been interrupted when player 230 approached you with his 'cool' attitude. He knew what men like him wanted from pretty girls like you. And he surely couldn't tolerate that.

"Hey Señorita, what're you doing here all alone?" his cheerful and flirty voice woke you up from your focused planning and slowly you brought your big eyes to him, noticing the dude with the purple sparky hair. "Why? Is there a problem with it?" you questioned lightly, your voice coming out in a soft tone.

You weren't trying to flirt back or something, but you deeply disliked when people didn't like you. You constantly felt the need to be loved and adored by everybody.

The guy shook his head, chuckling amusingly and then leaned closer to you, “just wondering what a pretty doll like you was doing in a place like this” he took one of your curls and started twirling it on his finger.

You stared at his eyes, locked with yours, and immediately picked up his blown pupils boring into yours. And you understood clearly that something was wrong with that man.

But you had no strength to pull him away.

“Doll…” the guy started, now a wicked grin on his lips, his eyes shifting from your eyes to your plump lips, “I’ll be able to protect you, but—“ he stopped his words for a moment and his smile widened “it will come with a price”.

Patiently you flashed him a tight closed smile and with a swift of your hand you managed to free your locks from his grasp, pretending to fix your hair.

Dae-ho still observed from afar, although now standing from his spot and slowly ascending from the stairs with the intention to stroll near your bed bunk and intervene in case things got a little too heated. And not in a good way.

He absentmindedly smirked at your calm attempt to escape from the guy’s grip and silently cheered in his mind at your successful attempt.

Now he was only a few meters away from you, this time able to hear the interaction.

You both didn’t notice him. What a relief.

His heart beating hard and anxiously in his chest, but he kept a focused look on his face. He was ready to jump in if that drugged guy would have tried something funny.

Then he heard your soft voice, “that’s so kind. But you know what would be even kinder?” You batted your long lashes at the guy in front you, who was hanging from every word that left your plump and rosy lips.

You slightly turned your head to the side, eyeing a young small guy, probably your age, who was sitting all alone. He looked kinda pathetic.

If this strange man wanted you to be on his side so bad, then he would have done everything you suggested him. And you were also going to help that poor scared guy. How good of you.

“See that guy over there? The one all alone and scared? It seems so unfair we are all in teams, and not him, geez” you falsely let out a sad sigh, still gazing at the other player.

The purple-haired guy briefly looked where you were pointing at and then turned to you again. Wide and crazy eyes staring at you for a second time.

You sent him another tight smile, this time the corner of your lip twitched a little due to your nervousness.

The ex-marine kept his gaze locked on you, noticing how slowly you were starting to falter. Doubt and fear was gradually creeping under your skin. This time you weren’t sure you were going to get out of this situation all by yourself and thanks to your charm.

And Dae-ho understood that somehow. You were crumbling, but he was ready to help you out.

“I wish someone would be my hero—” just to make your statement look more truthful, you placed your slim fingers on his bicep, gripping at it slightly. From him, you received an enthusiastic look and an amused chuckle. “—if that someone would to go team up with him…”

Now your lips were pushed forward into a pout and that sight alone clicked something in the drugged guy.

A low hum came from him, his face even closer to yours, your foreheads only a few centimeters away from actually touching. He now really was staring into your wide doe orbs.

“If I do that…would you consider joining my team Señorita?” slowly you nodded then recomposed yourself “we’ll see” and with that the guy was out of your sight, already jogging to other side of the room to talk with that lonely player.

You relaxed your posture, which had became stiff from the moment he came near you, but you just didn’t realize till now.

Then a gentle tap on your shoulder.

You shrieked loudly but cutely (in Dae-ho’s opinion) and jumped at the contact, scared that another creep was going to pester you and make you uncomfortable.

However, when you turned around you were met with an affable face.

It was another guy, also young, but he didn’t give the same vibes as the previous one…no, this one made you feel secure and calm. Not troubled at all.

You studied the young guy with a curious stare, your orbs roaming all around his figure because too intrigued by his appearance.

He wasn’t strange, neither looked like one. But in a bizarre place like that you were expecting the most untrustworthy people playing deadly games just to feel the breeze of victory and satisfaction.

The hand he used to tap you on the shoulder was still frozen mid-air, a widen look on his face and a faint and rosy blush on his apples’ cheeks. He surely was speechless.

You cutely tilted your head, looking up at him with large eyes, “can I help you?” His gaze fixated on your lovely and round lips, his brain not comprehending any word coming from you.

Dae-ho gulped down the lump in his throat and simply refocused his attention on your face, now staring at you in the eyes like an imbecile.

Maybe that was exactly what you were thinking: what this idiot wanted from you? how you were going to get rid of him without hurting his feelings?

He was already tasting the flavor of rejection.

Then he felt your baby pink nails graze at his hand still hanging in the air and instinctively he withdrew his hand with a quick jerk, as if the contact had burned him. But in reality he was only caught off guard, not ready for your touch. He would have expected anything but the brush with your soft, pale skin.

A light gasp came from you, surprised by such reaction. It never happened to you before.

How peculiar.

Your voice reached his ears again, “are you okay?” The former marine couldn’t make a fool of himself for the second time in your presence, he had to answer and quickly. “Yes! I just…came here to check up on you! Yeah, yeah…after the conversation with that dude, Thanos” he tried to sound confident, but he himself noticed how his own voice wavered slightly or abruptly became high due to nervousness.

The quizzical expression on your face made him realize that you didn’t know who the player was (probably you didn’t pay attention to the number on his jacket) so he chuckled softly and caught his breath, ready to clear up any doubts.

But before he could do that he immediately caught how your eyes suddenly lit up, a wide smile bloomed on your face and delicately you started bouncing on your bed bunk in excitement.

“Oh i got it!” You bounced a little more and unconsciously landed closer to him, taking both his large hands in your small ones.

Dae-ho immediately took notice of the huge size difference and also tried to drink in your gentle touch.

“You mean the odd guy with the purple hair right?” Your expression was hopeful and impatient, waiting for him to answer your question and ease your doubt. He simply nodded, with no force to speak after a scene like this, his mouth dry like the desert.

When you tilted your head a bit your hair prettily shifted in the same direction, shining more brightly in the light of the room.

Now a thinking expression printed on your features.

“He made me uncomfortable, sure, but I think that I handled the situation pretty well!” You grinned up at him “after all i love helping others and that guy all alone surely needed some!”

“Did you came here also for something else?”

Did he? He wasn’t sure. He just wanted you safe in a degenerate place like that and mostly from degenerate people that took part in it.

He wasn’t one of them. He knew.

And neither were his teammates.

So he for sure knew that you would have been safe in his team if you decided to join him.

“Actually…” but he was unsure. Maybe you would have considered him on the same level as player 230. But it doesn’t hurt to try.

“Actually…I was hoping that you could join my team?”

Your already large eyes seemed to comically widen even more, making you appear cuter than you already were.

His heart leaped.

And when you were ready to give him an answer Thanos approached your petite figure again, but now he wasn’t alone.

Skipping happily behind him was a guy with long hair, a mischievous grin on his thin lips.

The former marine recognized him as player 214, Nam-gyu.

The rapper’s voice boomed through the room, “Doll! I’m back! Did you miss me?” An unsettling feeling was showed through your facial features, but you didn’t give away too much discomfort, immediately wearing the fake thin smile; kind and polite but cold as ice.

Dae-ho only admired how versatile you were. You amazed him every second that went by.

“You again! Didn’t you go recruit that poor guy on your team?” You questioned politely, slowly hoisting from your kneeled position and standing right beside Dae-ho.

Even in a mundane action you displayed such gracefulness that pulled every string of his heart.

But he noticed quickly that he wasn’t the only one.

In a flash Thanos wrapped his arm around your waist and quickly pushed you in another direction, probably where his bed bunk was situated. “We are going to have so much fun together doll! And we’ll be able to win so much money!” He beamed enthusiastically, his arm bringing you closer to his tall and slim figure.

Nam-gyu swiftly appeared on your other side, the mischievous grin still on his face but now his eyes were totally focused on your face.

An unsettling feeling bubbled in your stomach. Goosebumps on your arms due to that sickening gaze. A shaky sigh from your nose.

“Yeah…just stick with us…and you’ll have nothing to worry about” he said, engulfing your shoulders with his arm.

Now you were trapped between the two, unwillingly following them.

Slightly you managed to turn your head behind, locking your eyes with Dae-ho.

You were silently asking for help because in that moment he was the only one you truly trusted and the only one to save you from that situation.

But he hadn’t been quick enough because when he opened his mouth to interfere, you were already gone.

[...]

Panic set through your bones when the pink circle soldiers locked your legs together with the team you had been forced to join.

The second game had been announced: six-legged pentathlon.

Five minigames to play in a short amount of time; if the team ran out of time they would have been eliminated. And you all knew what that meant.

With a shaky breath you scanned the room briefly, before setting your tremulant eyes on player 388, who was already looking at you, a small smile on his lips.

He was trying to put you at ease with a simple glance, his fist raised in the air as a symbol of strenght and courage. He perceived that you could do it and that you were tough enough to succeed.

Still with your gazes interlocked he mimicked a deep breath and reluctantly you echoed him. That should have calmed you down a bit.

Your doe eyes flashed him a determined look and then you turned forward, ready to face the challenge.

Subtly, he side-eyed his teammates, hoping that they didn’t witness the secret and caring exchange you two had.

Dae-ho kept his gaze fixated on you the whole time, never tearing it away from your small figure as you walked ahead with the rest of your team.

Only once his eyes left your figure and that was when he sent a disgusted look at Thanos, who of course appeared too relaxed and out of his mind during the race.

A low growl reverberated in his chest when he saw how the purple-haired guy squished your face and made you look at his face, telling you to not fuck up.

How dare he speak to you like that? You, who didn’t deserve such treatment.

If he wasn’t in a place like this, he would have intervened in the blink of an eye.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves, and Jun-hee beside him stared up at form, a quizzical expression on her face.

Slowly and cautiously she followed his line of sight and despite her short height and her condition she immediately caught up what was happening: call it female perception.

Unfortunately she was nobody to him to share a piece of her thoughts, but maybe, in a subtle way, she could do it. Smooth and clean without raising any suspicious.

"Ehm...388?" she didn't know his name and of course they were only acquaintances, so it was only a matter of rispect and politeness. The mentioned guy turned his head towards her, his brows raised slightly in concern, "Are you okay? You don't feel good?" she kindly smiled at his gentleness and interest in her health, but she simply waved his worries away, her hand ghosting on his bicep.

"Perhaps are you okay? I see you're kinda...distressed?" Dae-ho gaped at her with an unexpected suddenness, certainly not expecting it t be so noticeable. Now it was his time to get rid of her worriment, "I'm fine, I'm fine...nothing to worry about!" but his tone didn't reassure her at all and her suspicious had been confirmed when his eyes flashed for a second towards the playing team.

"Is there anybody you care about?" she lowly whispered not wanting to draw any attention to them, even if almost everybody was too engaged on the game ahead. Dae-ho's head snapped in her direction, now his expression displaying half surprise and half concern.

If Jun-hee had managed to catch up so quickly about her behaviour, soon or later the other players too would have understood that and not only him, but you too would have been in danger.

And he wouldn't be able to endure it.

He was trying to save you, not to endanger you.

"W-what?" "In that team-- she said pointing forward-- there is someone you really care about and you are worried about them, am I right?" she muttered hushedly and the former marine only nodded at her statement.

He just wanted this nightmare to end.

He forcely rubbed his temples, a faint migraine starting to bloom in his mind. If this game wouldn't kill him first, then his anxiety would do the trick.

"Everything is going to be fine, don't worry" the girl reassured him and then brought her gaze forward again, focusing on the ending game. With a small but rousing smile she gentlu nudged his arm and pointed ahead.

He lifted his head and saw that the last game has been passed succesfully and now your team was hurrying to the finish line.

When you crossed the finish line, shouts and jubilant yells echoed throughout the room, the other players happy to see the team had passed the test and that there was hope for everyone.

Of course, your team was not the weakest, but it was certainly the least harmonious and uncoordinated of all the others.

Eyes meet.

Hearts leaped.

Even if all the players roared triumphantly they seemed to be suddenly surrounded by a sweet and innocent silence.

You beamed at him, smiling widely and flashing him your white pearls. So lovely and beautiful.

‘Thank you’ were the words your lips mouthed and in exchange you raised your closed fist as a good sign luck. He smiled back, his smile full of adoration for you.

He was really hoping to see you after that game.

However, when your team was being untied by a circle guard and then escorted out of the field, Thanos immediately circled your waist with his arm, pushing you closer to him.

A shiver went down the marine’s spine.

He needed to complete this game, and fast.

Dae-ho needed to save you from that monster’s grasp.

[…]

His team had been the last to play.

No one was present there to cheer on them, only the utter and sinister silence. The guards absent stares on their rigid figures.

But they did it. They passed the game.

All of them being able to succeed in each minigame without too many flaws.

When the doors to the main room opened, Dae-ho noticed how some of the other players let out frustrated groans at their arrive, hoping that more people have died in order to gain more money.

But that wasn’t the case.

The ex-marine’s focus although was set on the crowd ahead, trying to spot your figure anywhere. But he didn’t.

At first he was confused: you had passed, then why weren’t you there? He spotted your former team but you weren’t there either. He tried to calm himself down and distract his distressed mind a bit, following his group to their self-proclaimed spot on the bunks.

Probably you were just in the bathroom. Yeah, you were safe and just needed a moment to use the restroom, nothing drastic.

However, he couldn’t avoid eyeing occasionally at the purple-haired guy, who seemed into his own little word, moving his air in the air and whispering under his breath improvised lyrics.

Then he heard a door open. He settled his eyes on it and suddenly a huge weight had been lifted from his chest. He felt like breathing again.

Firstly he spotted your blonde hair, too unusual to avoid among the sea of dark hair, then your eyes met.

The marine felt a smile creep on his lips when he saw how your eyes lighted up in his presences internally you were practically beaming.

With scurried but silent steps you hurried yourself in his direction, trying to be unspotted by Thanos and Nam-guy. They gave you the heebie-jeebies.

And when you were close enough you literally threw yourself on him. Of course he had been caught off guard but managed to catch you quickly and engulf you in a tight squeeze.

Even if you two didn’t know each other, you felt a deep connection.

You nestled your face in the crook of his neck and at your impulsive action Dae-ho flushed quite heavily but tried to hide it from your view.

Your loving face was hidden but he still heard your muffled words, “I thought I’d never see you again” at those words he smiled warmly and unconsciously tighten his grip around your smaller figure. His touch safe and warm.

Dae-ho tried to calm the incessant beating of his heart, thumping loudly against his chest, and a shaky breath left his mouth, “I’m not going anywhere. I will protect you even if it’ll cost me my life” he murmured back in a gentle reassuring tone “I’m going to get us out of here. I promise”.

He felt your figure shift slightly under his grasp and briefly loosened his arms around you, not letting you go completely.

A hopeful expression was printed on your face, your large eyes staring up at him like he had hung up the stars in the sky, “I know…but please” you pleaded softly “let me help you. We are going to do this together”.

Dae-ho’s heart swelled at your gentle words, bringing solace in his perturbed soul.

“When we’ll get out of here…” he bit his tongue, not sure if continue or not “when we’ll get out of here I would like to shoe you my hometown and…threat you a nice dinner”.

Your rosy lips morphed into an excited grin.

“You need to be treated like a lady…and I would gladly do that, if you’ll allow me”.

Your slim arms encircled around his neck, ushering him closer to you.

“I would love that more than anything”.

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