#this is the first time she shuts him down

[chaos-vixen]

@starry-bi-sky AAAAAA it’s 1:01am

I’m reading all the dp x dc I can find

And I want more scenes!

Like- Vlad has a business meeting in the morning, so Danny is forced to stay at this fancy ass expensive hotel (small miracle that Vlad got him his own fancy master bedroom type deal) overnight. But before that, we need to leave the party >:)

The Gala was set to end for roughly another hour, maybe hour and a half.

Danny didn’t give a shit.

So what if people parted a little when he walked back into the room. He didn’t give a shit.

He didn’t give a shit when he locked eyes with Bruce across the room. (not with the same damn subtle furrow in his brow he alway had when he was concerned but in public)

He didn’t give a shit when Vlad gave him a thinly veiled stink-eye. (Damned piece’s shite! What right- what right does that smug self serving bit-)

He didn’t give a shit when Tim found him in the bathroom trying to cover at least some of that lingering smoke smell (Didn’t give a when Tim gave him some of his cologne– that it hid the smell decently. Didn’t give’a when he told Tim that he was “Just a bit tired, head’d ou’early”. Didn’t give’a when half way through his goodbye his accent slipped with a wet voice crack. Didn’t give’s when Tim looked him with something horribly close to pity, made worse by the undertone of understanding)

Didn’t give anything (no reactions. No evergreen left for that or caring) when Vlad saddled up to him at the exit wondering just where he was going.

Did’t give a blessed thing about the one paparazzi guy touching it out to see who the first to leave was, not the final flash (heh, just one bright flash of light-) as he stepped and followed the sidewalk to where the cars where, knowing that Vlad was probably seething behind him.

Danny felt numb all the ride back in the car, up in the elevator, and down the hall to their neighboring rooms. Where Vlad, in his infinite wisdom, poked the bear.

“You know,” Vlad started, in all his slimy evilness (yes evilness- sue him, Danny’s too tired for better adjectives), “Ypu have cost me quite a bit of grief tonight, first with the cameras, then wondering off, then with this! Why, it’s like you want me to stop lending a helping hand to your parent’s funds! Or my little nudge for Jazz’s tuition?”

Danny cares. He doesn’t care about much. But Jazz?

He looks Vlad dead in those greedy, self-important eyes, his breath fogs, his rage and grief weighing the air down, thick like blood, suffocating– “You touch her, you threaten her or what she loves, and you’ll face Rath.”

Then he turns on his heel and slams the door (albeit not too hard, it’s a hotel) firmly shut.

A glance to the bed, perfectly inviting and soft. The alarm on the bedside table reads 10:37.

Whatever logic is left in his frizzled brain says that a shower would might help, but the rest says that bed is way to comfy to ignore. The only good thing to come of being forced to travel with Vlad was that the beds were usually not too bad.

Danny ends up staying up late, time slipping away (‘Why are there so many cursed metaphors?’) surfing through florist after florist for the perfect selection (Jay had always loved red—they’d joke about what color their suits would be if they where one of the richy-rich— also the zinnias where weirdly hard to find), though honestly there weren’t as many florists as there typically would be for a city as big as Gotham.

‘Probably Ivy’s fault’ he thinks tiredly, glancing at the alarm 1:07 seems to jeer from its spot on the bedside table.

With a big stretch and a groan, he decides with a mutter, “welp. ‘M already dead anyways”, rolls off his bed and heads to the balcony for a smoke.

Just as he stands, a ding sounds from his phone.

And for one, ancient’s forsaken moment, his stupid, hopeful mind thinks ‘it’s him’-

It’s squashed the the parasite it is.

Jazz, checking in, seeing if he’s alright. He flips back down on his bed, send a quick reply, how he’s turnin’ in early. He doesn’t bother trying to say that the Gala ended early- even hundreds of miles away Jazz could sniff his bs.

He also should maybe sleep. She concludes the same.

And eventually (but not peacefully, never peacefully) he drifts into the darkness.

——————————————————————————————————————

The morning is bright- because idiot tired Danny didn’t bother to close the fucking curtains.

Thankfully, Gotham isn’t exactly early riser either (smog doesn’t let much sun in until it’s bright enough to stab through the cloud coverage). This allowed a peaceful and lazy wake up all up until the Thud Thud on his door. Clock reads 8:23.

‘Never too early for the bullshit is it, dear universe?’ He thinks bitterly, dragging himself out of bed, mentally trying to prepare for whatever this could be.

There, as expected, stands Vlad, with his usual smug self standing straight with a slight smirk- until he sees an unkempt Danny, still in his suit and that smirk drops to a distasteful sneer.

With an upturned nose, “Disgraceful, anyways, I’m headed off to a business meeting elsewhere in the city. Plan leaves at 3 o’clock.”

Danny gives a slight nod, and immediately shuts the door again. That enough frootloop, especially since he hadn’t even had caffeine yet.

The promise of drugs (the legal kind) has his mind finally figuring out a course of action: shower, dress, boy flowers … then a visit to Jay. A proper visit.

So, with a list of tasks in mind, he sets off to do just that

Unbeknownst to him, a certain revenant was just waking up after not falling asleep 3 hours ago.

I desperately want to keep writing- but my shift starts at 7:00 am tomorrow and it’s already 2:24 am! Plz continue this!

also quick headcannon(s)

Danny still smokes the same cig brand Jay use to carry, the first cig he ever smoked, Jay’s brand

Jay is heartbroken at this broken echo of who he knows and loves (/pl)(present tense because angst) crumbled by grief, pit back together given hope just to have it all ripped away again

Alfred wants to see his honorary grandkid

Since Young Danny insisted on helping with dishes

Aaaand it’s now 2:30am

I’m probably screwed a wee bit. Oops!

*2:32

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.

[jayktoralldaylong]

One of my favourite things about Arcane is that all the couples can be read as toxic, which is GREAT.

I'm tired of people bringing morality debates into dark media. Let dark media be fucking dark. You guys wouldn't survive a day in the TMA fandom, needing everyone to be as good as gold. How are they going to make for enjoyable complex characters if they're not morally grey. In fact, I wish there'd been more expansion on just how morally black they can become!

"CaitVi is so toxic" According to lesbian statistics, that sounds just about accurate. 💀 Heck, I wish Caitlyn had done more (Not really, but it would have been nice to further explore the darkness in her heart). Isn't it adorable how she immediately folded as soon as Vi called her cupcake? Caitlyn's like one of those villains that will consistently do the most....until it comes to someone else hurting her girlfriend. The only one allowed to hurt her girlfriend is her. 💀

Then let's talk about Vi. Someone pointed out how Vi never cared about Zaun's independence in the first place and many people yelled that they were wrong. But actually, they were right. Vi never wanted Zaun. Zaun was Silco's dream, and Jinx inherited that dream cause Silco would never shut up about it. Vi wanted Piltover to take responsibility for all the shit they allowed to happen in the Undercity. That's a part of the reason she joined up with Caitlyn in the first place. Let's not forget she wasn't dissuaded when she dragged Jayce down to fight with her and he killed a child. Children been dying, it's been her whole life. Someone needed to do something about it, and Zaun would have just isolated the people from all the privileges that Piltover SHOULD have been providing for them. Some people just can't accept that Independence cannot in fact solve every problem, and sometimes independence is colonisers running away from the responsibility of fixing the mess that they started in the first place.

Besides, we all know Vi joined up with the Enforcers because "I feel like I am worthless if I can't be of service." She'd already run out of family members to serve, Caitlyn was the next best thing. She's just like Jayce.

And speaking of Jayce, let's talk about his violent levels of codependency with anyone who'll give him attention. People LOOOOVE to talk about Mel, but it's there with Viktor too. When bro wasn't basing his worth on his inventions, he was centering it around Viktor.

Viktor who decided at some point in his life that he would not LIVE without Jayce. He was fine dying without him, but living without him was unacceptable. Oh how healthy. 🙄😂 Viktor be the kind of toxic ex to threaten divorce 500 times over, then burn the world when you actually leave him. Jayce is no better cause he's the kind of guy to keep going back to his toxic Ex.

Yes, Mel is manipulative. That's what I love about her. How are you guys failing to give this woman the praise of being an outsider in Piltover, but running their entire council. 💀 Girl raises her hand once and the whole government starts spinning. She was the best sugar mummy Jayce and Viktor could ever ask for. She kept the whole city running. Literally the entire of Piltover dancing on her palm. And yes she manipulated Jayce but let's not forget she thought that was a love language. 💀 You wanna be mad at someone, be mad at Ambessa for raising her that way.

I also don't think it's fair to blame her for the Undercity situation, she's not native. Monkey see, monkey do, and not a single one of those Council members actually cared about the situation down there, it was deplorable. 💀 Jayce did way more in his two weeks as Councillor than any of those drug pushing, money laundering, Piltovian heads of government.

And that just covers MelJayVik, we don't even need to get fully into TimeBomb, cause we know what's wrong there. 💀 Surely we have not forgotten the many teammates Jinx has killed, but making sure to never kill Ekko cause that's her man. Ekko has a lot to unpack, like how his consistent and unwavering love for Jinx is an indication of a lot of doors he might not be ready to open. I know they dynamics go crazy and I love to see it.

Ambessa and Sevika are a crack ship but I'm sure we all know bedroom dynamics go crazy with Mrs. Warlord and Miss Liberation. I love it when characters clash in a toxic heap. It's insane and should be explored.

Quit saintifying my toxic ships with your woke morality debates. If you want everyone to be sunshine and rainbows then you should be watching literally anything else. 💀 "It's not healthy." GOOD, I like it that way. 💀 Angst, spice and trauma are the recipe for a plethora of explorative fanfiction. Any of their dynamics can be taken in any toxic direction and I want that EXPLORED.

[throneofrayllum]

I wish we could've seen what Rayllum living with Ruthari had been like...so, here's some headcannon's about what they got up to during those two weeks:

Runaan wanted Callum on the couch. Rayla told him it didn't matter because "Callum and I have already slept together! What's the difference?!" to which Runaan responds, ""The difference is that it's under my roof!" Callum's dying inside during the whole conversation. When Runaan and Ethari wake to Rayla curled up on the couch with Callum, Runaan lets it go and allows Callum to sleep in Rayla's bedroom.

The first few days of Rayla being back in the Silvergrove, some of the elves give her dirty looks or y'know talk behind her back VERY LOUDLY. Callum will not have any of it. When people glare, he glares back. When people talk shit, he shuts it down. Rayla tells him he doesn't have to, that she can handle herself. Callum knows she can, but she's his partner, he wants to protect her.

Rayla cries when she sees her room. It's exactly as she left it. Ethari tells her he didn't have the heart to tidy the room up. He tells her and Runaan how he would lay down on her bed with her stuffed animal when he missed her most.

Runaan and Ethari kick Rayllum out a lot. I mean, what do you expect? They've been separated for so long, they need to make up for lost time.

The Silvergrove throws a party in honor of Runaan's return. Callum becomes accustom to Moonshadow culture. Rayla is so excited for Callum to learn about Moonshadow dancing. Ethari and Rayla have a couple father/daughter dances (dancing was always their thing when she was little). Rayla feels like a little girl again with her father spinning her around.

At the party, Callum finds that he likes Moonshadow wine much more than Katolian wine. He also gets to see what a drunk Rayla is like (she's adorable), and deal with a hungover Rayla the next day.

[quarterlifekitty]

Moth girl getting into that state with nesting, being tired, her belly hurts and she's just acting off.

König already knows it's the time of the year when she lays eggs. But some time passed, and she still didn't get better. Still didn't come out of the pillow nest.

When he's checking up on her, her belly is round and swollen, but the eggs are not coming out..

König having to help her out. Carefully pressing down on her belly, rubbing her little pussy to stimulate her and trick into finally letting the eggs go.

(I made that up, it lives in my head rent free.)

cw: egg laying stuff, overstim

König’s heart aches when he looks down at you, squirming and sluggish all at once, the distention of your belly obvious. His precious mottechen, so uncomfortable and full.

The only struggle he experienced was internal as he pulled you from your nest of blankets and pillows, your usual pips and chirps replaced exhausted whines.

He’d been warned that this could happen. That sometimes hybrids have trouble expressing, especially if the eggs are unfertilized.

He’d gotten you into bed, your back to his stomach with your legs spread and ankles hooked over his thighs.

One of König’s massive hands is splayed over your abdomen, cupped to create a bit more pressure from his gathered fingertips as he rubs ellipses over you.

Your hands grip weakly at his forearm as he tries to stimulate you. You look up at him with barely formed tears gathering at your waterline from how long and tiring this process has been, keeping you exhausted and restless at once.

“Ich werde es besser machen, liebling, I promise,” he coos, shifting his legs to spread you a little better. It feels… a bit wrong to be touching you this way when you’re not well. Like he’s taking advantage, even though he knows it’s the least invasive way to help you. It doesn’t help that you can definitely feel him hard against your back.

His touches start feather-light on your clit, flicking and rubbing to try to spur your inner muscles into making the necessary contractions. His petting and stroking gets heavier, until your hips are twitching and your eyes clench shut with the strain as you pass the first egg in your clutch.

König lets out a breath he’d had no idea he was holding as the cream colored egg slips onto the towel beneath you. It’s a little bigger than the ones in your last clutch had been, which is probably what caused the issue, if he had to guess. His poor little siedenmotte.

The ones after the first come much easier, thank god. He wasn’t sure he could handle seeing your face twisted in pain much more than he already had.

He grinds his teeth, sick with guilt when you thrash against him with what must be the last of your strength— your legs twitching as you try to free yourself from his hold, from the overstimulation. But he has to make sure you’re not holding onto anything, so he keeps you pinned, pressing down on your belly while two of his fingers find a home inside of your sore cunt. He makes you cum, finally, and heaves a sigh of relief when you don’t produce anything more.

Your eggs, which he typically finds laid in an array with almost mathematical precision, sit in a sticky pile on the towel. Not quite as many as usual, but noticeably more girthy, not as uniform either. He hoped it didn’t mean you were sick.

He puts the towel off to the side to be dealt with later, focusing on untangling your legs. He lays with you on his chest, and he starts to hum an old song he remembers from his childhood so you can feel the rumble in his chest. He doesn’t have the deepest voice, but it seems to do well enough for you, relaxing you enough to let your eyes close.

When he feels you’re recovered enough that he feels he can leave you alone to rest, he’ll dig out a flashlight from his dresser to shine through each of your eggs, just like always, just to make sure there’s nothing in them before they’re returned to you.

Hopefully you’d be back to your usual self tomorrow. He isn’t sure how much more of this his heart can take.

[italiangirlcoresblog]

main masterlist \\ f1 masterlist

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"𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐤" "𝐰𝐡𝐨'𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞?"

✩ : a real life christmas miracle at the hamiltons

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭. : lewis hamilton

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : comfort, fluff

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 1k

✍︎ : give these babies a little love please, we need to spread the christmas cheer

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Snow fell gently outside, the world muffled under its icy embrace. Inside, the twinkling Christmas lights brought a soft glow to your living room, though their warmth still wasn’t enough to melt the cold sensation that had sunken into your chest. You sat on the couch, staring blankly at the three stockings carefully hung on the wall in front of you. Yours, your daughter’s… and Lewis’, dangling limp like a silent reminder of the promise he couldn’t keep.

“Mummy, look!” Your little one spun in her red-and-white pajamas, Roscoe right behind her as he wagged his short tail, matching her excitement in his own special way. Her dark curls bounced as she twirled to the melody of All I Want for Christmas Is You, her joyful giggles a painful contrast to the bitter aching of your heart.

You’d tried your best to be cheerful for her, keeping the holiday spirit alive and pretending like nothing was wrong. Except everything was. This Christmas was supposed to be different: Lewis had given you his word, he’d make it back in time, but when he’d called earlier in the week, his voice apologetic, you’d known the truth before he even said it. A delayed flight, last-minute obligations—it was something you understood, having to constantly balance your everyday life with his tight schedule, but it didn’t make it hurt any less.

“Do you think Daddy remembers it’s Christmas tomorrow?” she asked, her wide eyes so much like his as she snapped you out of your thoughts once again, her hopeful tone tugging at your heart.

She’d been counting down the days with the anticipation only a five-year-old could muster, while you couldn’t even find the courage to tell her Lewis wouldn’t be at home with you in the morning. You didn’t want her to see your disappointment, so you quickly masked it with a strained smile as you picked her up from the floor and put her on your knees.

“Of course, baby,” you reassured her, softly caressing her cheek. “Daddy always remembers the important things.”

The girl beamed, satisfied with your answer, before running off to her room and basically leaping into the bed, her eyes already clenched shut when you reached her to tuck her in—“If I fall asleep now, Christmas comes early and Daddy will be here,” she’d mumbled as she started to drift off.

The lump in your throat was hard to swallow as you leaned down to give her a trembling kiss on the forehead. “Daddy’s always with you,” you whispered, the weight in your chest heavier than before when you settled yourself beside her.

The first thing you heard in the morning was the sound of hurried footsteps rushing over to your daughter’s bed—where you’d ended up sleeping the entire night—followed by a series of excited squeals.

“Mummy, he’s here!” The girl’s high-pitched voice definitively woke you up from your slumber, her words making no sense to you.

You blinked a few times, eyelids fighting to stay open as your more than confused gaze questioned the little one, who was now trying to roll you out of her bed, having already yanked the cover off your slowly freezing body.

“Who’s here, sweetheart?” you managed to ask, slurring your speech.

“Daddy! He’s in the living room!” She was getting more and more impatient, her disheveled hair bouncing around her tiny shoulders as she kept hopping on her toes.

Her words finally clicked in your mind, and you flashed her a bittersweet smile. “Oh, is he now? Did Santa bring him on the sleigh?”

“Yes, come and see!” she insisted, giving you a firm tug on the hand to pull you up.

It was only when Roscoe joined her too, his paws planted on your chest as he started licking you all over your face, that you finally decided to play along.

“Alright, alright,” you laughed, wiping off the dog’s drool from your cheeks as you let your daughter drag you toward the living room. “Let’s see what that little head of yours has come up with this time.”

The words died on your lips as you rounded the corner, your voice trailing off.

There he was.

Lewis stood by the Christmas tree, snow dusting his heavy coat and scarf, the delicate flakes tangled in his locks like a hundred pretty bows. His arms were loaded with presents, which he let fall to the ground as soon as you stepped into the room, his sweet brown eyes immediately finding yours as a heart melting smile spread across his face—and the world around you suddenly felt warm again.

“Surprise,” he said softly, though his tone had a hesitant edge to it.

“I told you he was here!” your little girl kept shrieking, running straight into her dad’s open arms when he kneeled down.

He scooped her up effortlessly, spinning her around as her delighted giggles ringed through the air, the sound better than any Christmas song you’d ever heard.

“Hey, princess. Did you miss me?” Lewis asked her, tenderness lacing his voice as she clung closer to his chest.

“Yes, but I knew you were coming back because I asked Santa to bring you home in my Christmas letter.”

You exchanged a glance over her curly head, his sheepish one meeting yours in an unspoken apology. “You said you couldn’t make it,” you then broke the silence, your almost accusing tone filled with emotion.

“I know,” he stepped closer, before reaching out and pulling you into his embrace as well, his forehead rested lightly against yours. “But I wouldn’t have missed Christmas with my girls for anything in the world.”

You couldn’t stop the tear that rolled down your cheek as you buried your face in the crook of his neck, while your daughter, totally clueless, climbed down Lewis’ side and dashed to where he’d left the presents, carefully inspecting the brightly wrapped boxes.

“So,” he whispered in your ear, his breath grazing your skin as he spoke, “am I forgiven now?”

You pulled back just enough to look up at him and gently brushed your fingertips over his dark braids, taking out a little snowflake that still hadn’t melted. “More than forgiven,” you murmured back, yanking him by the hem of his scarf until your lips crashed together.

And, for the first time in a while, everything felt complete again.

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©italiangirlcoresblog // do not copy, rewrite, or translate any of my work on any platforms

[star2fishmeg]

Congratulations on getting 1k! 🎉 Can I request FLUFF #13 with Jack Hughes please?

Thank you for requesting <3 - Merry Christmas!

FLUFF #13 "You came." "You called."

📞 dialling…

Nothing could ever go her way. That’s what it felt like, at least. Every Christmas something would go wrong, and she’d be the one left to fix it. If it wasn’t a family feud, it was the cooking or the presents, or somebody got the date wrong and now nobody could fix her problem because she was at the centre of it. 

She leant against the marble counter and held her head in her trembling hands, screwing her eyes closed to hold the tears in and listening to the dial tone ring through her kitchen. She needed someone, really needed someone and that was the disadvantage of living alone. 

“Hey princess, what’s up?” Jack’s voice called out over the speaker and that was enough for her tears to slip down her cheeks.

“I needed company, is all.” Her voice shook and she wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her hoodie, “Just a bit lonely, right now. Everyone’s travelling and wondered if you were free? If you’re not, it’s fine, I know you and Luke are heading out soon yourselves, I just… I’m sorry, you’re busy.” 

“Hey, hey, you’re okay, there’s always time for you. Gimme ten minutes to finish up and I’m all yours. I love you.” He cooed softly and he hung up. And she buried her head in her arms and sobbed until her throat hurt, the apartment so quiet she could hear her own misery echo off the walls and back around to her.

The only thing that snapped her out of her sorrow was the three knocks on her door. At first, she ignored them, but they knocked another three times, and she felt obliged to answer. It was funny how human brains worked like that, you don’t need to open the door, but you do, it’s like an embedded rule of manners people are born with. She loosely turned the handle, sore, red eyes meeting with Jack’s, his smile sinking and his stomach twisting at the tear stains on y/n’s cheeks. Her cold body grew a blooming warmth the second his strong arms wrapped around her, kicking the door shut behind him and hand placed on the back of her head, cradling her to his chest, stroking her hair as she soaked his hoodie. 

“You came.” She croaked, pulling away slightly to peer up at him. 

He smiled, placing a kiss to her forehead and one hand cupping her cheek, his thumb wiping a tear, “You called. What’s really going on?”

“My family wants to spend Christmas with my aunt in Colorado, but all flights just got cancelled because of the fucking weather and I am not driving across the country.” She sobbed, “Jack, I don’t wanna be alone on Christmas, I don’t know what to do. They’re all asking me to just drive but I can’t do that, I don’t have that kind of gas money either.” 

She buried her face in his chest, letting his hands gently sooth over her back and waist as he swayed them from side to side, murmuring sweet nothings into her ear. His stomach dropped hearing her cry, pained him deeply that she spiralled over something out of her control. 

“Why don’t you spend Christmas with me and my family? They won’t mind.” He said softly, peeling her from his body and holding her hands in his. 

“Not unannounced and I don’t have presents and-”

“-they love you and have been asking about you. Trust me, it’ll be okay. You’re more than welcome and I would rather spend Christmas with you than know you’re sat here, alone. You have your bags already packed, right?”

“More or less.”

“Then how about it? There’s still time to get presents and I’ll take you anywhere you want when we get there. Think of kissin’ under the mistletoe, we can bake those cookies you love, decorate the tree, ice skating…” Jack snaked his arms around her waist, peppering her face with kisses. He had this magic way of reassuring someone effortlessly, perhaps it was because he was an older sibling, used to doing it or maybe it rooted from being so undoubtedly in love with y/n it came naturally. 

It didn’t take a lot of consideration before she nodded, a smile breaking across her lips that soon mirrored his, tears drying and the light glowing back in her eyes. Christmas with the Hughes’ didn’t sound all that bad, if Jack had taught her anything, it was that she wasn’t always alone.

"I'd love that, thank you."

[witchywithwhiskey]

first christmas with trucker ari levinson

pairing: dark trucker!ari levinson x female reader

summary: you ask ari if you can hang up some christmas decorations in his truck cab, and after his initial refusal, he starts to come around to the idea—and has some fun making you beg for it.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, piv sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, slightly dry/painful sex, creampie, cock warming, bondage, choking, breathplay, dirty talk, degradation, some praise, daddy/dad kink, begging, pet names (sweetheart, baby, kiddo), some aftercare, a mean hot man

word count: 2.0k

a/n: based on this ask from @veltana: Are trucker Ari's and trucker Jake's readers gonna decorate the rigs for the holidays? since Ari's canonically jewish, i wanted to work that in while still showing what he's willing to do for his girl. (also apologies if there's any tense switching in this one, i'm not used to writing in present tense 😬)

trucker king masterlist & dirty filthy truckers universe masterlist

Trucker Ari Levinson isn’t the type of man to decorate for the holidays. By the time Thanksgiving rolls around, you’re well aware of this fact about your trucker, but you think it would be nice to put up some decorations in the rig, just to make it feel a little bit festive.

When you broach the subject, the two of you have just set off on a six-week stint of driving, which means you’ll be on the road through the new year. Already, the vast, snow-covered plains of the midwest have you feeling melancholy, so you’re really hoping Ari says yes to some Christmas cheer.

However, your trucker shuts you down with a curt, grunted, “I’m Jewish.”

You try not to show your disappointment, but you haven’t quite gotten used to the way you can never hide anything from your deceptively observant trucker. So while you think you do a good job of playing it off like you don’t care that Ari doesn’t seem willing to let you decorate, he knows he’s struck a chord—and it doesn’t sit well with him.

At the next rest stop, Ari’s grabbing snacks while you’re in the bathroom and he catches sight of a small display of Christmas decorations. They’re all cheap and plastic and poor quality, but before he can stop himself, he’s swiping one of the bright red Santa hats and adding it to his haul.

Ari shakes his head to himself, wondering what his mother would think of him if she could see him buying a Santa hat when he hasn’t worn a yarmulke or stepped foot in a synagogue in over a decade. But then he pushes the thoughts aside, reminding himself that his mother was gone, she’d left him, and she had no fucking right to judge what he was doing.

You’re settled in the rig by the time he gets back, an e-reader in your lap, and already engrossed in some smutty Christmas romance when Ari hauls himself into the driver’s seat. You don’t look up until a bag of Christmas candy lands in your lap, and you’re so taken aback, you glance at your trucker in surprise.

It’s then that you see the Santa hat pulled down over Ari’s slightly greasy brown hair. In his dirty red flannel, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, Ari looked like the hottest, filthiest Santa you’ve ever seen, and your core quivers with eagerness as you suck in an excited breath.

Ari’s staring at your mouth, his eyes dipping lower to the way your tits are trembling as your breathing speeds up. You’re wearing nothing but one of his flannel shirts, the buttons undone an almost indecent amount, and nothing underneath. (You’d worn leggings into the rest stop bathroom, but taken them off as soon as you got back in the truck—Ari doesn’t like you wearing too many clothes and, truthfully, you don’t either.)

“Why don’t you come sit on Santa’s lap, kiddo,” Ari rumbles, his voice low and smooth—the charming tone of the man who’d coaxed you into his truck that first day. His hand pats his thigh enticingly as he spreads his legs, the fingers of his other hand deftly undoing the button and fly of his jeans. “Tell daddy what you want for Christmas this year.”

Your pussy is already wet with desire, so you toss your e-reader onto the bunk in the back and quickly navigate the space between your seats so you can throw a leg over Ari’s thighs and slide into his lap. Your ass lands on his legs, your pussy already slick enough that you whimper with the need to be filled.

“Beg for this cock, sweetheart,” Ari rumbles, stroking his thick length, his knuckles brushing against your damp slit and making your hips buck forward, seeking more friction. “Beg me to use your cunny like my own personal cock sleeve.”

“Please, use my pussy, daddy,” you beg breathlessly, fingers twining around the hair at the nape of Ari’s neck, careful not to knock the Santa hat off his head. “Use me to keep your cock warm, please—I want nothing more than to be your perfect little cock slave.”

“Good cock whore,” Ari purrs, one of his big hands grabbing your ass and urging you to lift up. Then he was notching the head of his dick at your tight little hole and helping you sink down on him.

A lewd moan slips from your lips as you take Ari’s cock. Your pussy isn’t quite wet enough to take his thick girth, but you don’t care. You’d take Ari dry if that’s what he wanted, and you both know it. 

There’s a delicious sting as your pussy protests the thick intrusion but you push past it, forcing your hips down until your ass meets Ari’s strong thighs. You sigh with contentment, swaying a little in Ari’s lap, your eyes half-lidded as you stare into your trucker’s ungodly handsome face. 

For some reason, the Santa hat is really doing it for you, making Ari even hotter than normal and you think, dazedly, you might have a Santa kink—so long as Santa is your dirty, filthy trucker.

“Feels s’good, daddy,” you slur, pleasure making your tongue feel thick and clumsy in your mouth. 

Ari chuckles and gives your hip an affectionate pat before he removes his hands from your body and starts up the truck, the engine growling to life. 

He’s pulled his rig back onto the snowy midwestern roads before he reminds you about why you’re on his lap in the first place.

“I wanna decorate the cab for Christmas,” you murmur, laying your head against Ari’s shoulder and enjoying the feeling of the truck rumbling beneath you, the warmth of the rig surrounding you.

Your eyes slide closed and you relax against Ari’s chest, letting the soothing vibrations and the perfect feeling of being filled by his cock lull you. Your whispered plea is spoken into the hollow of Ari’s throat, right above where the star of David he always wears is nestled beneath his t-shirt. 

“Please, dad.”

You feel your trucker’s cock twitch inside you, and a second later he lets out a tortured groan. It joins the soft moan you bury in the shoulder of his flannel shirt, your hips rocking lazily on Ari’s lap. Your juices are soaking his cock already, dripping down to his balls, and his cock is throbbing inside you, both of you equally turned on by what you’d called him. 

“Fine,” he grits out through clenched teeth, though you know he’s not angry, just trying to hold back from coming inside you so soon. He always reacts that way when you call him ‘dad’ instead of ‘daddy’. “You can have one string of lights, baby, but I’m going to test ‘em out before we hang ‘em up.”

Sucking in a sharp breath of surprise, you lean back and look up at Ari to make sure he’s serious. You find his jaw clenched tight and ticking, but when his eyes meet yours, there’s a sparkle of something like affection in them. Before you can be sure, though, he looks back to the dark road. 

“Thank you, Ari, thank you,” you cry, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pressing kisses to his scruffy cheeks and burying your face in his thick beard to nuzzle his jaw. Happily, you lick and kiss down his neck, sucking on the spot at the base of his throat that makes his cock throb inside you. 

“Yeah, yeah, you’re welcome,” he grumbles, one of his hands falling to the small of your back and urging you to settle. “Now be a good cock whore and sit still while you keep me warm, we’ve got another couple hours of driving before you can properly thank me.” 

“Yes, sir, daddy,” you purr sweetly in Ari’s ear as you settle down on his lap. You lay your head on his shoulder and press your mouth to his neck, licking and sucking on his skin idly while you do your best to stay still and let him drive in peace. 

When Ari finally pulls off for the night, you’re practically vibrating with a need to show him how happy he’s made you and as soon as he puts the rig in park, you’re riding his cock hard and fast. 

Your hands are planted on his bare chest—since you made him strip out of his flannel shirt and t-shirt—and you lift your ass up before slamming it down hard, the tip of his cock pushing against your cervix with every thrust and making your cunt squeeze the life from his hard length.

Once he’s let you take control for long enough, Ari’s hand wraps around the front of your throat and he pins you back against the steering wheel, not caring that the horn blares while he fucks up into you ruthlessly. 

All you can do is watch your trucker king, wearing a cheap rest stop Santa hat, fuck the hell out of you while your tits bounce and your mouth falls open in a moan.

Ari comes with a rough shout, yanking you down hard on his cock and making you grind your pussy on him, rubbing your clit against the coarse hair at the base. His hand squeezes your throat, choking you just hard enough to make your pussy spasm, and then you’re coming too, your scream of pleasure stifled by his grip on your neck.

After, Ari helps you into the bunk and tucks you into his big body beneath the blanket. He falls asleep wearing that Santa hat and some boxer briefs, while you’re naked in his arms. With your back to his chest, you can’t see the faint smile that curves his mouth as he drifts off.

When Ari finally buys you that string of lights he promised, you learn that the ‘test’ he wanted to do before you strung them up was to tie you up in them. He winds the cord around your calves, then your thighs, binding your legs together before he plugs them in to make sure they’re all working. 

Ari takes a long moment to look at you like that, naked on the bunk in the back of his rig, save for the thick socks keeping your feet toasty, and the warm, golden lights of the Christmas decoration he bought for you. 

It makes him want to buy you more, to see how you’d look laid out beneath a fully decked out Christmas tree while he fucked your pussy, or how you’d feel curled up in a blanket covered in reindeer while he held you on his lap, his cock buried in your ass. He wants to see you wearing a Santa hat that matched his own, sucking his cock on Christmas morning while he made you coffee.

Ari reminds himself that the two of you are spending Christmas in his rig that year, driving around the country until well into January. But he saves those ideas for another time, tucking them into a box in a corner deep in his mind reserved for all the softer, more domestic plans he has for you—the ones you’ve started to inspire in him despite the fact that he’s never thought of himself as a man with soft or domestic side. 

To distract himself, Ari digs out the Santa hat he bought at that rest stop and puts it on your head, pulling it down over your ears and giving you a satisfied little grin. Then he folds your body in half, pushing your bound legs up to your chest and off to the side so he can watch your face contort in pleasure while he sinks his cock into you.

The string of lights are digging into your skin a little painfully and you’re bent in an almost uncomfortable position, but you can’t help but enjoy it when Ari plunges into your cunt and sets a fast, merciless pace. 

You’d never expected a conversation about Christmas decorations to end up with you tied up in a string of lights, but then, nothing about your trucker was ever what you expected—and that was part of why you loved him so much. You couldn’t wait to spend that Christmas and many more with your trucker king, Ari Levinson.

trucker king masterlist & dirty filthy truckers universe masterlist

[babey-fruit-bat]

Ut te mihi Juno

Caracalla X F! Reader

Summary: Caracalla presents a surprise gift for your wedding, hoping it will be to your liking Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Kwanza, Happy Winter Solstice, Yule, and glad tidings to all my followers or readers! Hoping you have a delightful holiday season no matter what it looks likes or who you celebrate with!

🕊️🌿💍🕊️🌿💍🕊️🌿💍🕊️🌿💍🕊️🌿💍🕊️🌿

The dawn cascaded through the large windows of your room in the imperial palace. Your gaze drifted open to the golden embroidered gown hanging in the windowsill. There wasn't much time to ponder the day's events as your handmaids flooded the room preparing a steaming bath with lily, rose and locus. You were ushered in as breakfast was brought up. A spread of cheeses, breads, fruits and a light wine was served, and as you ate your mind drifted to the memory of Caracalla. The first day you met so vivid in your mind, as if it was yesterday. It was a grueling process of selection, that quickly became easy within the first week of your arrival. You were selected along with five other noblewomen as choices for the young emperor to sort from and select a bride. You'd attended meetings, parties, formal and informal gatherings both as a group and an individual to see how well he might take to each of you. By the end of the week, it was time to attend the first gladiator tournament. You'd accompanied him as a group to not only show off his selection of brides, but to view how each of you would attend an event he cherished so much. You'd been fitted in a cobalt gown and filed in last, Caracalla standing by as each lady found their seat before taking his own. The heavy fabric snagged beneath your sandal, and you found yourself caught in his arms before your soft skin could be marred by the rough granite of the Coliseum. His grip lingered on your body for a few moments before he released you to find your seat.

It was practically tangible the jealousy that coursed through each womans veins as he kept turning to sneak glances at you during the game- the feel of your prefect skin burned into his mind. He had to have you. From that day forth an obsession with you erupted from within him. He could not eat, speak, nor dream without his brain plagued by your scent. He surprised the Senate by having every other noblewoman removed from his party of admirers. He desired only you to accompany him, always insisting you take his arm. Geta, who wished to consider a more rational proceeding had to share his concerns to his brother, who promptly shut him down, "She is entirely perfect- she fit beneath my arm as if the Gods crafted her just for me- you just don't understand." Despite initial discrepancies no one could deter Caracalla- he was determined to make you his empress, his eternal companion, his woman. His love for you had become all consuming- and the wedding arrangements consumed much of his spare time. He consulted you for most of it, agreeing to a winter wedding in January- to honor the Goddess, Juno, in hopes of a blessed and fruitful union. Each detail had been crafted to honor of you both. An ornate hall was trimmed in gold, and sapphires glittered from every corner of the ceiling. White silks lined the floors underneath tables with rows upon rows of the finest delicacies. Vases with floating candles and peacock feathers lined the tables. The opulence and detail in each piece was nearly overwhelming to your senses.

Billows of incense wafted through the temple, scents of frankincense, myrrh, and pine delighted your senses as you made your way to the holding room before the wedding. You slipped into your gown the white fabric melting onto your skin in silken pleats. Your maids tended to any finishing details adorning you with a collared necklace encrusted with diamonds and sapphires from the far East- the last gift delivered to your room from Caracalla before you'd become his. The groom paced frantically around the room, servants sent away, just him, his brother, and beloved pet- Dondas. He was brought along to help ease Calla's growing anxiety, but not about his marriage to you. He tugged at the golden pieces littering his garb groaning for time to move faster. The deep red robes swished around his feet clinking and jangling softly as his pace increased. "Brother, you've checked with the servants twice and you've ensured everything's been delivered?" Geta rose with a huff, his wine nearly sloshing out of his cup. "Yes, Carcalla, she's right here, the servants just brought her in as you finished dressing."

They both ventured over to a stand containing a large dome covered in cloth. Dondas peered closer trying to uncover it with the familiar sound of a creature hidden from view. "And you're sure she'll like this brother? I have yet to see you acquaint your darling lover with the stables or any of the animals' grounds- perhaps she will not share your love of beasts."

"You speak in lies and doubt, Geta, you do not see her eyes, powerful, understanding, and unyielding... like Dondas." He smiled looking to his Capuchin- who squeaked in amusement nibbling on the bowl of nuts and fruit specially brought to him. The pair paused gazing at the creature, happily unaware of the impeding events about to unfold. "Right... I suppose you would know her best- I only hope once she weds you, she does not have to vie for your attention alongside Dondas." Geta said with a lilt, focus back on his brother. "Certainly not- My jewel will be the most coveted in Rome! The most envied and cared for in imperial history- Just as Dondas is. I have no doubt she'll accept this offering as well, one perfect enough for my wife." "And there's no time like the present- Come now Caracalla, the priest is ready to start." With that, Geta guided him to the altar to start the ceremony. Time seemed to stand still as you glided down the aisle. Guests lined the rows of seats eager to catch a view at the empire's newest family member. As you reached the end of the aisle Caracalla took your hands in his, both repeating your vows in tender speech and promise. His warm hands felt firm on your hips as he pulled you in for a feverish kiss, desperate to finally claim you as his own. An astounding array of cheers followed as guests poured into the receiving hall quickly being served a bountiful round of courses and drink upon drink was filled and refilled.

Before the night concluded and guests started to make their way home Carcalla stood before the crowd determined to capture everyone's attention. He had indulged heavily in the party's whimsy and substances passed around on sliver platters, vases, and cups. You'd had your fair share too ending up in your new husbands' arms most of the night mimicking the stories spread far and wide about young lovers and their affectionate nature. "Great celebrates! We thank you for coming in celebration of Rome's glory, of victory, and great love found within it-" A round of cheers and raised glasses concurred with Calla's statement. "I wish to present my wife with one more precious gift. One more declaration before the festivities end, and I have you, my dear empress all to myself this night." His gaze met yours and darkened as low murmurs and a few celebratory cheers were heard from the husbands in the hall. Dondas leapt up to join him on his shoulder, chittering before ruffling his master's hair. "Bring her in, I cannot wait any longer for this!"

A fanfare of servants was summoned into the room by horns throwing a parade of flower petals down to meet you, leaning down where to sat until the strange dome was eye level. You carefully removed the sheet to find the most precious creature. Another Capuchin monkey, a female, dressed in a gown identical to your wedding gown, adorned with a ribbon tied loosely around her neck. The tiny moneys eyes peered into yours seeking warmth and refuge after spending so much of her day kept away from the festivities. You popped the latch as quickly as possible and cradled her close to your chest. "Oh, Caracalla, I really don't know what to say-" His eyes flickered with doubt for a moment, his mind returning to the words of his bother earlier. "She's just perfect! Not only for I, but Dondas, now he will also have a dear friend to spend his days with!" Your face was brighter than ever as Dondas crawled his way up to your shoulder to sneak a peek at your new pet. "We will have to name her, a name fitting for an imperial pet, a title she'll be worthy of..." Calla paused searching his drunken brain for names befitting a creature meant to represent so much to him. "What about... Juno?"

He paused to ponder your choice ""Hmm, Juno? As in the queen of the Gods?" "Yes, it's perfect- Juno will favor us as we have honored and favored her during our union- our future will be blessed, happy." Your decree fell to his ears in a hushed tone, keeping the intimate moment between yourselves and pets private from the prying ears of guests. "It really is perfect, isn't it?" He agreed taking your hand in his pressing a soft kiss to inside of your palm. Calla stood once more on top of the table, Geta rolling his eyes hoping he'd fall off. Caracalla swayed steadying himself before commanding the crowd to his attentions again. Your eyes glittered in amusement with his display of affection and devotion.

"Citizens- we delight in sharing our other newest imperial member with you tonight- Hail Juno!"

@certifiedcodbabygirl @s-lverwing

[sarah-ankh]

I have only two genuine, deep-seated psychological fears. And this probably gonna be very revealing, so I apologise in advance:

1) my father had a chronic terminal condition called sarcoidosis. It's a degenerative auto-immune disorder, and my family are apparently predisposed to them. He was diagnosed with it at 34, literally 2 months before I was born. At the time it was pretty new and poorly understood, and he was given 2 years to live.

Thanks to ongoing medical advancements his life was prolonged, stretched out for 20 years, and I'm grateful for this because it gave me the chance to know and love him. But it also meant I spend the first 2 decades of my life watching him slowly decline as the disease spread from his lungs, to his nervous system, to his other organs, even to his skin as his own body began consuming itself in an endless blood-war. He couldn't walk, or breathe, lesions and gaping, open woulds blossomed across his arms and legs, his flesh turned necrotic and sloughed away. And this brilliant, kind, creative man that I loved, was slowly transformed into a rotting, living corpse.

When I was 18 the disease got into his brain. The symptoms were similar to Alzheimer's or dementia. As his mind began to unravel he became forgetful, displaced in time, he grew paranoid and fearful, and the depression that must have grounded him for years finally started to overwhelm him, and I was the only person he had to confide in.

Finally his heart gave out, unable to bear the strain from the sea of opioids and steroids that were keeping him alive. And I know that he welcomed death as that final release from a living hell.

His mother died the same way. Though without medical intervention she died far quicker, as her body shut down from lack of oxygen.

His younger brother has the same condition though it was caught early, and he has the benefit of 2 decades of experimental treatments my father pioneered.

My aunt escaped that fate, but a flare up in her 20s before the disease went dormant afain has left her with life-long arthritis and breathing difficulties.

This is my fear.

This is the dread that plagues my nightmares.

It's why I refuse to watch gorey horror films.

I dont fear death, because death means freedom. The final utter escape. I fear the living hell that may yet prove to be my inheritance.

2) my other great fear is to be institutionalised. I don't trust my body, I can't. All I have is my mind; My memories, my personality, my intelect as meager as it may be. These things are all I am, all I have. And there's one way they can be taken from me.

The idea of being locked up somewhere, being pumped full of antidepressants and sedatives, and other mind-altering concoctions. Of being stripped of my autonomy, unable to refuse the needle, or the pills. To be forcibly divorced from my own sense of self and cast out to sea with no anchor to ground myself.

Lost to myself and to the world both. And be told "it's for your own good".

These are the only things that truly terrify me.

We ask your questions anonymously so you don’t have to! Submissions are open on the 1st and 15th of the month.

[schlatt-love-bot]

Shy Schlatt x Reader Headcanon

First time meeting edition!

To everyone else, Schlatt appears to be a large grumpy man, intimidating those around him

He didn’t necessarily help this narrative when he openly picked on his friends around other people, and generally had a brooding attitude when he was in public

This all seemed to melt away the moment he laid eyes on you, though 

Smaller in statue, you would’ve fit perfectly in his side, tucked away under his arm, which kicked in his primal urge to become your protector

He noticed you during a Chuckle Week shoot, vaguely remembering how Ted mentioned that a college friend of his would be helping set up shots and other things during filming this week

He barely listened as Ted explained who you were, he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you, watching as you untangled some cords from Ted’s backpack

Apparently Ted called you over, as Schlatt barely noticed you talking as you introduced yourself, sticking out your hand to shake, looking up at him confused as to why you weren’t shaking his hand 

“I..I take it you’re not a hand-shaking greeter?” 

“O-Oh, uh…sorry toots, it’s not that I’m not a hand-shaker, I was just…lost in some, uh, thoughts. The name’s Schlatt, nice t’ meet ya.” 

You giggled at the encounter and walked away, while Ted let out an exasperated sigh 

“This is going to be a loooong filming week if you keep up that act, Schlatt.” 

Schlatt grumbled and playfully smacked Ted, telling him to shut up among…other choice words 

…ultimately, though, Ted was right. This was indeed the longest week of recording Schlatt had ever done, and it was all due to the pretty little dame behind the camera

Schlatt noticed when you would tune out of the conversation being had between him, Ted, and their guest, which is when Schlatt would become increasingly grumpier, even borderline aggressive at times

If you were listening, though? That man tried his hardest to act cool, but ultimately stumbled over his words and showed a bit too much of his softness

“Schlatt…buddy, my eyes are over here…” Connor, this episode’s guest, began to tease, causing heat to rise in Schlatt’s cheeks as he sent eye daggers in Connor’s direction

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Maybe if you were actually talking about anything interesting, I’d be a better listener! Ever think of that?”

He heard your stifled giggle coming from behind the camera and in turn beamed with pride 

At the end of the week, Schlatt grew grumpier and grumpier, knowing he would have to leave behind this pretty little thing to go back to New York, and Ted could sense it

“Yknow, if you want to leave with a good taste of LA on your tongue…(Y/N)’s totally into you, too. How? I’m not sure. I don’t know why anything with two legs and a pulse would want to go out with you, but she mentioned in passing the other day how ridiculously sexy she thought you were. Go for it, man!” 

Annoyed by Ted’s implications, his ears still perked at the thought of you finding him attractive, so back into the studio he went

He caught you while you were packing away some of the set props, trying to balance yourself on the seats to collect as many Sriracha and A1 bottles you could manage before you began to lose your balance 

“Woah...you gotta be more careful there, toots. Don’t want you to go hurting yourself, now. Can I…can I help you?” 

The way he held you in his arms made your heart stop, and your lack of response made him think you thought he was being a creep by holding you for so long

He quickly placed you back down onto the ground, clearing his throat, before pulling at the hem of his shirt looking for the words he wanted to say 

“So…I…uh, my flight outta here doesn’t leave until tomorrow night so…I was thinkin’...maybe you would wanna, I dunno, grab a bite to eat tonight?” 

He refused to make eye contact with you, one hand snaking around his neck, making you giggle

“Sir…are you asking me on a date?”

“You said it, not me…” 

“Well…” 

“Okay fine, it’s a date. Will you?” 

“Absolutely.”

"Cool, awesome. Here's my number, I'll...uh...pick you up at 5?"

"Sounds perfect, Schlatt."

He didn't want to show just how excited he was about it, (but he totally did) but he was absolutely geeked that he got a chance at a date

You might've caught him giving himself a little pat on the back as he exited the studio, not thinking you were paying any mind to him

ooooohhh!! i just love the idea of a softie schlatt!! i feel he's not portrayed as a softie or as shy very often, so i figured why not try my hand at it!! hopefully you all enjoyed!!

[annievrse]

hold tight!

roronoa zoro x reader —ᡣ𐭩 fic summary: franky's version of the waver from skypiea has everyone excited!!! w/c: 2.2k a/n: happy holidays! this is real this happened to me two days ago on a jetski, so i had to make it zoro because its better to write fanfic about characters than daydream about the impossible irl

The entrance to the new island is a dramatic sight—towering cliffs rise on either side, their jagged peaks piercing the sky like the spines of some ancient beast. The narrow passage between them is barely wide enough for a small boat, let alone the Thousand Sunny. The dark, churning waters below them add to the sense of foreboding, and the cliffs almost close in on themselves as if daring anyone to enter. Thick vines hang from the rocks, draping down like curtains of green, and the air smells of salt and earth.

To combat the problem of the Sunny being unable to pass through the cliffs, Franky, always ready to rise to the occasion, introduces his latest invention with his trademark flair. With a wide grin, he steps forward and announces the arrival of the seated Waver, a new addition to the Sunny's ever-growing transport arsenal.

When Luffy complained about the old Waver from Skypiea being annoying and having nowhere to sit, Franky took it as a personal challenge. He wasted no time designing something to solve the problem and impress his captain.

The result is a sleek, streamlined Waver with a comfortable seat, sturdy grips, and the perfect balance of speed and stability—a far cry from the old, seatless model. It’s built for comfort and thrill, and it’s clear from the first test ride that Franky’s creation is a hit.

With his usual enthusiasm, Luffy grabs the handlebars from the Sunny's figurehead and practically flings himself onto the Waver.

“My turn!” His infectious excitement fills the air, and before anyone can stop him, he revs the engine, sending water spraying behind him like a wild stallion kicking up dust.

“Careful!” Nami scolds from where she sits on a second one. “Do you want to fall in?”

Luffy just laughs, his signature grin lighting up his face. The Waver is far easier to handle than the old seatless ones from Skypiea, and Luffy’s thrilled with how quickly he’s mastering it.

You lean against the bow, watching the scene unfold, with Robin standing quietly beside you.

“Do you think they’re safe?” You ask her, eyes flicking toward the speeding Luffy. Robin tilts her head, her expression unreadable.

“Franky seems confident,” She replies with a slight shrug.

“Hey!" Nami yells your name. "You joining us or what?”

You glance back at Robin, who gives you a soft, knowing smile. "I'll be fine, go."

You nod and turn toward the sea to find the rest of your crew.

Franky operates a third Waver with Chopper and Brook, and somehow, Sanji ends up on the second with Luffy, his fists white with how hard he's holding onto the seat.

The ladder dangles over the side of the Sunny and into the water, and you look at it with apprehension. Taking a deep breath, you climb over the edge and carefully slip your foot onto the first rope.

The sea breeze hits your face as you reach the bottom of the ladder, the water shimmering under the bright sun. Nami zips before you, her hands firmly gripping the controls and her fiery expression unmistakable.

You jump in the water and swim over to the back of the Waver, climbing aboard and shuffling to sit behind Nami.

“Come on, hurry up!” Luffy shouts over his shoulder, his voice carrying over the water. Sanji winces and squeezes his eyes shut as Luffy hits a wave. “It’s awesome!”

“Ready?” Nami asks, drawing your attention back to her. But before you can answer, you hear a familiar grunt behind you.

“Oi, wait up. I’m not getting on one with the cook," Zoro yells, deep and reluctant.

"Get on this one then," Nami rolls her eyes, not bothering to look back at the swordsman.

You turn to see him standing on the last rope of the ladder, clearly not thrilled by the idea of riding one of Franky’s new contraptions. But true to his word, he’s already swimming toward you. His eyes narrow slightly as he hauls himself out of the water and onto the Waver, clearly uncomfortable with the idea.

“Zoro,” You start, raising an eyebrow. “You really want to ride with us?”

He grunts with his usual grumpy expression in place.

“I'm not getting on with the cook," He repeats, disgust painting his features. His gaze lingers on your face, though, and then he looks away.

You laugh. “Fine, but you’re sitting behind me."

Zoro's expression darkens, and he mutters something under his breath.

"Hurry up," Nami snaps. "Luffy's almost there."

With that, he awkwardly steps behind you, leaning slightly against your back as he settles into place, his hands gripping the sides of the Waver. You can feel the nervousness radiating from him, his posture stiff as he adjusts to the unspoken closeness.

His leg muscles press against yours, and the five-inch inseam shorts he chose to wear does nothing to stop the heat rising to your face.

Nami, noticing the restlessness building between you two, grins cheekily.

“Aw, look at this,” She teases, her voice dripping with amusement. “Zoro, you’re gonna sit right there?"

Zoro stiffens behind you, his grip on the Waver's sides tightening.

“Shut it, witch,” He growls. "Where else am I gonna sit?"

She glances over her shoulder at Zoro and winks. “You two look like you’re having fun together. How’s the view from back there, Zoro? I bet you’re really enjoying yourself.”

You feel Zoro’s body go taut with irritation, but before he can snap back, Nami revs the engine, the Waver surging forward and pulling you into motion. His thighs press more firmly against yours with the movement, the sudden closeness sparking a familiar feeling in your chest.

“Hold on!” Nami calls out, laughing as she steers the Waver expertly through the waves.

The wind whips past you as Nami expertly maneuvers, the thrill of the ride and Zoro's breath in your ear quickening your heartbeat. The ocean spray hits your face, and the waves beneath you shift unpredictably, sending the Waver swerving.

Suddenly, you hit a particularly rough patch, and the Waver tilts sharply, throwing you off balance. You instinctively reach for the Navigator before you, but your hands slip off her wet shoulders.

For a split second, the surface of the Waver is disappearing under you—you’re going to fall in.

You yelp, your body leaning dangerously to one side as the Waver tilts further, the sharp spray of seawater splashing into your face. You can feel yourself losing traction, your heart racing as you flail to stay steady.

And then, in a flash, you feel a strong hand grip your waist, yanking you back toward the centre of the Waver.

The warmth of his hand on your waist is immediate and intense, his fingers digging into your sides to steady you as his other arm wraps around you to pull you upright. For a moment, it feels like everything has frozen, the world narrowing to the feeling of his hands on you, your back pressed into his chest. The movement of the Waver makes it hard to focus, but you can feel Zoro’s presence behind you—his body tensed, his breath sharp against your ear as he fights to keep both of you from falling.

“Gotcha,” Zoro growls, his voice low but steady, his hand holding you firm. "Easy."

You instinctively grip his forearm for support, your heart thudding louder. The contact feels uncomfortably intimate, but the shock of nearly falling off the Waver keeps you from dwelling on it for too long.

As the watercraft straightens out, your exhale is shaky, and your heart is still racing.

"Everyone okay?" Nami yells over the waves. You nod, though she can't see.

“I mean, it's nice to know that Zoro's got your back—literally,” She says, her tone playful but laced with that unmistakable edge of teasing. “Don’t let him get too comfortable, though, or he might not want to let go.”

Zoro doesn’t remove his hand from you despite Nami's taunts. His fingers linger at your waist, his grasp firm. You can feel the apprehension in his body—he’s not letting go until he’s sure you’re steady. You’re acutely aware of how close you are to him, the heat of his body at your back, his arms still wrapped protectively around you, his thighs pressed devastatingly hard against yours.

"Thanks," You whisper, patting his arm. Zoro retracts his hand and returns to holding onto the Waver. He mutters something unintelligible, his face flushing, but his body stays rigid behind you.

The island looms ever closer, and as you draw near the jagged cliffs that line the entrance, the air seems to thicken with anticipation, the excitement of finally reaching this new land mingling with the salty tang of the sea.

Nami expertly steers the Waver towards a narrow rock formation near the shore, already slowing to a stop. You can feel the anxiety of the ride dissipate, though the awkwardness of the previous moments between you and Zoro still hangs in the air. You prepare to jump off, the icy water enticing you.

You start to slide off the Waver, but as your foot lands on the rocky shore, a sudden surge in the water throws you off balance. Before you can react, Zoro’s hand shoots out, gripping your arm and pulling you back toward him with surprising force.

“Careful,” He says gruffly, his hand on your waist again.

You glance up at him, surprised by his reflexes.

Zoro, looking as stoic as ever, just gives a small grunt. “You were gonna fall. Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

But his hands don’t immediately leave you. He’s still steadying you, his body heat radiating through the thin fabric of your clothes. You can feel Zoro's hot breath on your neck and goosebumps rise on your skin despite the hot sun beating down on you.

Nami, already dismounted with practised ease, glances back over her shoulder, a mischievous grin playing at the corners of her mouth. “Zoro, you’re really good at catching people today, huh?”

Zoro shoots her an irritated look but doesn't say anything, his grasp on you finally loosening.

"Thanks," You say again, your voice softer than intended. Your fingers brush his, and he grunts in response, not quite meeting your eyes.

“Don’t mention it. Just don’t fall next time.”

You giggle, hand swatting his bicep. "I wasn’t planning on it."

"C'mon!" Nami laughs, ignoring you and Zoro.

You follow her up onto the rocky shore, casting one last glance at Zoro. Despite his gruff exterior, there's something about how he held you that lingers, something warm and steady.

“Luffy! Slow down!” Sanji yells, his voice tinged with genuine panic. You turn back to the ocean.

Nami chuckles at the sight, standing beside you on the rocky shore, arms crossed with a knowing smirk. “Sanji’s gonna have a heart attack if Luffy keeps this up."

You watch Luffy, grinning ear-to-ear, utterly oblivious to the disaster he's creating.

“This is awesome!” Luffy shouts, steering the Waver even harder as if trying to defy gravity. His excitement is infectious, but it's clear to everyone except him that he's about two seconds away from crashing.

“Luffy, we’re gonna sink!”

“We're fine, Sanji! Don’t be such a baby!” Your captain's voice rings back over the waves, carefree and completely unfazed.

Zoro’s eyes follow the scene for a moment longer, the corner of his mouth twitching ever so slightly. He uncrosses his arms and steps closer to you and Nami, his movements easy and relaxed.

“Luffy’s gonna be Luffy,” Zoro says, the irritation in his tone softened by something almost resembling fondness.

You look at him, noticing the shift in his expression. The awkwardness from earlier, the lingering, unspoken tension between you, is nowhere to be found. It’s like that invisible wall has crumbled without you needing to speak.

Nami, still grinning from ear to ear, turns to Zoro with a smirk.

“You're not worried?” She teases, her eyes glinting with mischief.

He snorts, rolling his eyes at her. “If I were worried every time Luffy did something stupid, I’d be dead by now.”

You chuckle softly, the sound of it carrying in the open air. "Aren't you glad you got on our Waver and not his?"

He glances at you with that typical deadpan expression, but there’s a faint glimmer of something softer in his eyes—maybe humour, maybe something else. But when his gaze drifts down your body, you feel your face heat up again.

“Tch, what do you think?” Zoro mutters, but there's a hint of a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth now.

You nudge his shoulder, an easy laugh falling from your lips.

Maybe the island ahead is full of surprises, but for now, standing next to Zoro—his presence beside you, the crew doing what they do best—you feel like everything's exactly where it’s supposed to be.

Even if Luffy's about to take out half the coastline.

[trippinsorrows]

dreamland: leya's battle

authors note: this is an expanded version of the short i posted a few days ago.

warnings: angst, depiction of ocd in a child, slight themes of childhood suicidal ideation

masterlist

words: 3.8k

The sound of horns honking startles both Leya and Tama, the latter of which starting to stir in his car seat, single handedly exacerbating an already nightmare of a situation.

“Hurry up!”

It’s a single voice that’s followed up with several others, all expressing the same level of pressure and rudeness.

Solana is seconds away from marching over to the woman directly behind the SUV behind her car when Tama’s soft, sleepy voice serves as a deterrent. “Mama, I wanna go home….”

A shared sentiment, one that makes most sense for him, as he’d either be back in bed by now or cuddled on the sofa with her while he takes a nap. 

Obviously, that’s not an option. 

“I know, baby,” she comforts. Solana does take a step back but instead of acting out of character, directs her clear, unmistakable command to Jacob. “Shut them up.”

With a nod, she only catches his face shifting into that infamous scowl as he walks over to the cars lined up behind her, a line that has to be backed out into the street at this point.

With that handled, Solana moves back to the issue at hand. 

Leya continues to cry, sniffling, her little chest moving up and down. Solana can see the tips of her fingers turning red from the repeated, forceful buckling and unbuckling of her seatbelt.

“Leya….” Solana’s voice breaks. As best as she’s doing to maintain her composure, it’s a slowly losing battle. “Baby, it’s okay. We can g—”

“No!” Leya cries, shaking her head, still not looking at Solana as the concerned mother continues to gently stroke her hair. “I gotta—I gotta do it right, mommy, or something bad will happen!”

“Cataleya, I promise you nothing bad is going to happen, baby.” A reassuring statement she’s had to have stated at least ten times now over the past almost half hour that’s passed since the start of this episode. “But, you have to get out the ca—”

“No!” Leya begins to cry harder, once again going to remove her seatbelt, counting to three with her fingers and redoing it. A repeated, consistent, obsessive act that’s led to the situation they’re in now. A situation Solana has no idea how to handle. This is the first time it’s ever been this bad.

“What’s wrong, Leya?” Tama asks in his sweet voice, worry filling his little face as he tries to comfort her. Unfortunately, that only does the opposite. Leya cries out and jerks her body away, swatting his helping hand, prompting his bottom lip to poke out as he too starts to cry. 

“Leya, please don’t hit your brother.” It’s hard for Solana to be upset with or even scold her daughter, because she knows Leya can’t help it. Knows that it’s only because anyone else’s touch other than hers feels “wrong” to Leya, thus her reacting the way she did.  “Tama, it’s okay, baby boy. Leya just doesn’t feel good.” 

Solana is sure none of them are feeling good, especially herself, her hand moving to her small baby bump as a sudden wave of nausea washes over her.

God please, not right now.

Of all times, not now.

She just can’t handle this.

Solana moves to open the passenger door and reaches over to grab her cell phone out of the cupholder. Shaking, trembling hands move to Roman’s contact, as she too quickly hits the call button.

Three rings followed by a soft, feminime voice. “Mr. Reigns office, how can I—”

“Shit,” Solana curses and closes her eyes. She dialed his office number instead of his personal cell. “I’m sorry, Alicia, this is Solana. I need you to put me through with Roman.”

“Oh, hi, Mrs. Reigns,” she greets, voice kind but almost unsure. “Ummm—Mr. Reigns is in the middle of—”

“Alicia,” Solana doesn’t hesitate to interrupt. “Get my husband on this line now.”

The woman nervously clears her throat. “Of course.” A pause. “Just a minute.”

And it’s just about a full minute that passes when Solana hears her husband’s deep, baritone voice on the other end. “Solana? What’s wr—”

“I need you to meet me at the school,” she cuts in, emotion in her voice, her eyes start watering all over again. “I can’t—I can’t get Leya out the car. She’s—she’s stuck in a ritual, and I’ve got Tama, and he’s crying, and I can’t—I don’t know what to do.” Her voice breaks at the end, the overwhelming nature of it all finally trampling her

“Mommy, don’t cry,” Tama comforts, eyes focused on Solana from the backseat.

Solana is unsure if Roman can hear their five-year-old, because he’s doing the same, “baby, don’t cry. It’s okay.” It provides some solace but not as much as Solana knowing how to help her daughter could provide. “I’m on my way.”

The time between the phone call ending and Roman arriving feels like an eternity, Solana becoming more overwhelmed and feeling every bit as helpless as is while trying to defuse a terrible situation.

“Move out my damn way!” Roman’s rough, urgent voice prompts Solana to straighten her back from where she was leaning into the car, trying to help her daughter. Just laying her eyes on him is an instant, soothing thing.

“Thank you,” she murmurs as he presses his lips to her temple but quickly moves to replace where she was leaning in the car.

And she doesn’t need to be looking at him to know how devastated he must be at the scene before. “Leya, baby, what’s wrong?”

Leya cries and wipes at her eyes. “I can’t get it right.”

Solana walks over to the other side of the car to work to settle Tama whose combination of sleepiness and worrying about his sister have him stirring in his car seat.

“Leya, it’s fine the way it is, sweetheart.”

She shakes her head as Roman moves to cup her face, the other hand on her leg. “No! I have to do it right or something’s gonna happen to you or mommy or sissy or Tama!”

“Baby.” Tears burn Solana’s eyes hearing how deeply in the throes of distress her daughter is along with the devastation in Roman’s voice. “I swear to you, nothing bad is going to happen. To you. To your sister or brother or your mom, okay?” Solana watches how Roman’s hand has shifted from Leya’s leg, gradually up to where the seat buckles. “Daddy’s always going to protect you guys.” It’s a risky but necessary move as Roman undoes the buckle for her, Leya’s eyes widening when she realizes what’s happening.

“Daddy, no!”

“It’s okay,” Roman comforts, forced to ignore the way Leya’s cries intensify in volume and intensity as he takes the seatbelt off and pulls her out of the car. He moves to cradle her head as she holds onto him, crying into his shoulder. Solana can’t make out the hushed whispers he presses into her temple while walking her away from the car, clearly trying to put as much space as possible between herself and her trigger.

“Is sissy gonna be okay, mama?” Tama suddenly asks, Solana holding him on her hip. A fair question with an answer she cannot provide in this moment. Not the truthful one.

“Ye—”

“Leave me alone!” 

Solana’s ears instantly perk up at the familiar, angry voice. 

Lina.

Quickly placing her son back down in the car, Solana instructs him to stay there, knowing security won’t let him wander. Rounding the vehicle, her shoulders drop when she sees her other daughter, angrily pushing her little fists at the school's security that are trying to restrain her. 

Anger fills the mama bear as she marches over, demanding, “get your hands off my daughter now!”

It only requires one time for Solana Reigns to make her command, the guards easily moving to the side, Lina running over to her. Solana crouches down to meet her little girl. “Baby, what are you do—”

“Where’s sissy?” Lina forces out, her eyes searching for her sister. Solana would guess Roman has taken her for a brief walk out of their line of vision in an attempt to help calm her down. “She needs me, mommy!”

And just like that, an already sad situation is made even more sullen, even if in a tragically beautiful way. Solana adores the closeness of her girls, but as protective as Lina can be of her sister, she’s still a little girl, too.

She doesn’t need to be so caught up in this.

“Leya’s gonna be okay, honey. Daddy and I are gonna take her home and stay with her until she feels better.” Because there’s no way in hell Leya can go to school today. Not after this episode. “But, you’ve gotta go back to school.”

“But, what about Leya?”

“Daddy and I are gonna take care of her,” she repeats and reassures, stroking Lina’s cheek. “I promise.”

Still unsure, Solana goes for a bargain. “How about this? You go back into school, and either I or daddy will pick you up an hour early so you can spend time with Leya?” Both the girls have excellent grades, and whatever Lina misses for her last hour, Solana can help her make up. “Is that okay?”

It’s not preferred, but it seems agreeable, Lina nodding. 

Pleased, Solana moves to take her daughter into a hug, kissing the side of her head. “I love you, Lina.”

Catalina hugs her back just as tightly. “I love you, too, mommy.”

—-------

Roman and Solana don’t take Leya home.

They end up taking her straight to her therapist, Roman having called and explained the situation, thus Brie squeezing them in for an “emergency” appointment. 

Jacob escorts Tama home, and Solana, sitting in the back of the SUV, on one side of Leya, Roman on the other, texts Bayley and Naomi asking one or both of them to go to the house to stay with her son. 

He really doesn’t need to be alone. He should probably be with one or both of his parents, but whatever conversation transpires during this appointment is most likely something he doesn’t need to be present for. Thus, another painful sacrifice. 

Leya is still upset but no longer crying when they arrive at Brie’s office, thus allowing her therapist to take her back first, a welcomed thing as it gives both parents a minute to just breathe.

Or not.

“I couldn’t help her.” It’s a terrible, gut-wrenching thing to admit, but it leaves Solana’s mouth in a pained whisper as they sit alone in the lobby. “She’s…..she’s my baby, and I couldn’t….I couldn’t help her. Why couldn’t I help her?”

“Hey, hey,” Roman starts, moving to pull his wife onto his lap, wiping at her tears. “Please don’t do that, Sol. This is….this is beyond anything we’ve dealt with before. Just like she’s learning, we’re still trying to learn.”

Sniffling, Solana murmurs, allowing the emotions to flow freely. “It kills me to see her struggling so badly. She doesn't—she doesn’t deserve that. She’s just a kid, Roman.”

She should be laughing and enjoying her life for all of the merriment that it carries, but she instead is battling just to live a normal life because of something beyond anyone’s control.

Sadness appears in his warm brown eyes, agreement strong and evident. “I know.”

He doesn’t say anything else, and Solana doesn’t either. Just lets him hold her until Brie walks out with Leya. 

Both parents notice immediately she seems even calmer than when she went in.

“Alright, Leya, I’m gonna talk to your mommy and daddy now, okay?” Leya nods, as Brie instructs, “you go in the playroom, and we’ll come get you when we’re all done. Sound like a plan?”

Again, Leya nods, looking once at her mom and dad before walking into said therapy playroom. Brie then motions for the adults to follow her, closing the door behind her when Roman and Solana take a seat on the sofa.

Roman, forever the one to bypass introductions, jumps straight to it. “What are we going to do about this?”

Normally, Solana would be the one to try to ease into the conversation, to prioritize pleasantries. But, this isn’t one of those days. “This….this is the worst it’s ever been.”

Brie’s expression is solemn and knowing, the combination of Leya’s explanation as well as Roman’s phone call cluing her in to just how bad this is and what exactly occurred. “As I’ve mentioned before, Cataleya’s presentation of OCD is pretty severe for a child her age. I know we’re meeting once a week, but if possible, I’d like to bump her to twice a week.”

“That’s fine,” Roman answers, not even needing to consult with his wife. They’re most definitely on the same page there.

Brie nods, admitting, “I don’t know if I have after school availability for the second appointment—”

“We’ll pull her,” Solana answers. Because getting Leya the help she needs for her mental health trumps everything else, including her education. “That’s not a problem.”

Another nod of relief that’s quickly followed up with trepidation. “I know we’ve already discussed medication, and as her parents, I fully respect your stance on it. Nor would I ever try to sway you one way or another, but—”

“She needs it,” Roman interrupts, voice low and heavy. “I—I see that now.” He thought he’d seen it just a couple weeks ago when she made the comment about her brain, but then she’d done relatively well. Her episodes had been well managed, but after today, after this, Roman can’t deny it anymore.

She needs to be medicated.

It’s unfair to his daughter to continue to deny her that.

“Can you resend that list of child psychiatrists to us?” Solana asks. Before, she was thinking they could go through the kids’ pediatrician, but now, the same way Solana benefits from having a prescriber who specializes in mental health handling her medication, so could Cataleya.

“Of course,” Brie agrees, reaching over to her desk to grab a colorful piece of paper. “There is something else I need to show the two of you. Leya wasn’t very happy about it, but I tried to help her understand it’s only so we can keep her safe and better hel—”

“Safe?” Roman cuts in, sitting up, shoulders straightened. “What about safe?”

With a closed mouth sigh, Brie stands and walks over, handing them the paper. “Please read it.”

Roman shares the paper between himself and his wife, the two of them immediately recognizing their daughter's handwriting.

My brain is really bad and won’t work right. I have all these bad thoughts, and I can't stop them. I know it makes mommy and daddy and my sissy and brother sad, and I don't want them to be sad. If I was never born, I wouldn't have these bad thoughts and my family wouldn't be sad.

I wish I wasn’t born.

“Oh my God.” One hand goes to her stomach, the other over her mouth. Years. It’s been years since Solana has experienced such heartache, has had the brutal, visceral feeling of a knife being sliced across her chest over and over again. Tears filling her eyes, she looks up at her daughter’s therapist. “Is she—”

Solana can’t even bring herself to say the word, Roman reaching a hand over to her knee, clearly wanting to settle his wife before her own panic arises.

But, it’s a difficult thing when he himself feels gutted.

To see those words written by a child is one thing. For it to be his child is an entirely different thing.

It’s soul crushing.

“No,” Brie’s answer is the only semblance of relief either parent can find in this situation. “Cataleya assured me that she has zero desires or intentions on hurting herself, and truthfully, I wouldn’t even consider this passive suicidal ideation. I truly believe she’s just severely struggling with managing something she’s almost too young to have, let alone understand..”

“Is this my fault?” Solana blurts, eyes returning to the haunting words written by her seven year old—daughter. “Does….does my PTSD have anything to do with—did I give this to her?” Breaking down in front of her husband and daughter’s therapist definitely wasn’t on the agenda for today, but it’s exactly what’s happening. 

Because this added on top of everything that’s occurred in this single day with the fact that she’s pregnant and hormonal, and Solana being an emotional mess right now is truly the only outcome that makes sense.

Crying into her husband’s shoulder, Solana does her best to listen to the logic that should counter her emotion driven fears. 

“No, Mrs. Reigns. Of course not. OCD can have a lot of origins. There is a genetic component, but nothing that ties to PTSD.” Somewhat helpful, it doesn’t change the fact that her daughter feels the way she does. “I can’t even begin to imagine how hard this must be for the both of you.”

“We just want her to be happy,” Roman finally enters the conversation, the concern in his voice betraying his visibly “calm” demeanour. A front, for sure.

“And she will be. She is a happy child. I can’t tell you how many times she speaks with such happiness and pride about you two, about her sister and brother. Even the new baby. She’s excited to be a big sister again.” The continued sharing helps to soothe the ache that throbs at the heaviness of it all. “Cataleya is going to be okay. We’re going to make sure of it.”

Both Solana and Roman do their best to keep that last sentence on repeat for the duration of the meeting that has a lot of information sharing, reminding of ways to help Leya when episodes occur, and the importance of working to help her manage her emotions as best as possible.

It’s all appreciated, and the encouragement of Leya having therapy twice as week on top of starting medication is also helpful in alleviating some of the apprehension.

The two find their sweet little girl playing quietly with the dolls in the playroom. All of the girl dolls are piled together, just as the boy dolls are piled together. Same with the kid dolls. All organized and methodical. Another aspect of her OCD.

“Hi, baby,” Solana starts. How she was able to pull herself together is a mystery, but it’s also necessary, especially given what she now knows about her daughter’s insight into this situation. “Can we join you?”

Leya nods, and both her parents move to sit on the floor with her. They allow a few minutes of silence to pass when Solana speaks again. “Leya?” She looks up from the doll that she was playing with, eyes open and curious with an unspoken ‘yes?’. “Brie….Brie showed us what you wrote, baby.”

And just like that, Leya’s gaze is downcast and solemn, something noticed by both adults. 

Roman doesn’t hesitate to pull his daughter into his lap. “Cataleya, I need you to listen to me.” And she does, pulling her focus up from her lap to his heartfelt expression. “You, your sister, and your brother are the best things that have ever happened to your mom and I. We love each other, but that’s nothing compared to how much we love you. And yes, it does make us sad to see you’re hurting and struggling, but that’s because you’re our little girl, and we don’t want to see any of our kids sad.”

“Leya,” Solana murmurs, tears brewing once more as she caresses the top of her baby girl’s head. “You are the bravest, strongest, sweetest little girl we have ever met. We love you so much, baby, and it would kill us if anything—” Her voice breaks, just the thought of it crushing her. “—if anything were to happen to you, okay?” 

Leya sniffles, voice soft and wavering. “But…but I’m not like sissy. I’m not strong like she is…..”

“You’re just as strong as your sister, sweetheart,” Roman comforts, thumb brushing away her tears. “Strength looks different on everyone. Lina is a lot like me. She has my type of strength, but you are a lot like your mom. You have her strength, and there’s not a damn grown-up on this earth I know who’s stronger than your mom.” 

Leya gasps, pointing out innocently. “You said a bad word, daddy…”

Roman chuckles, and Solana laughs, also wiping at her own tears. “Leya….” Solana works to find the right words, not wanting to necessarily open up this box fully, but to some extent, at the very least. “Did you know that you and your sister saved mommy’s life when you were just babies in my tummy?”

Her eyes widen, her jaw dropping. “Really?”

Solana smiles with a closed mouth, nodding. “Sure did, baby girl.”

Turning more towards Solana, Roman kisses the top of Leya’s head and keeps his arm around her, firm and protective. “How?”

Solana chuckles, carefully easing into a decline. “It’s a long story, and when you and Lina are older and can understand the full thing, I’ll tell you, okay?”

And, she will. Will share with them how they very much did in fact save her life and subsequently, themselves as well.

“Leya….” Roman waits until her eyes are on him again before resuming. “We’re gonna start taking you to see Ms. Brie twice a week now, okay?” She nods, a small smile on her face that sparks joy from both parents. “And mommy and I are gonna take you to a doctor who can give you medicine that can maybe help you."

“Medicine?” She repeats in a quiet, unsure voice.

“Yes, sweetie. Mommy takes medicine too, because even though I don’t have OCD like you do, I have something else called PTSD, and it means mommy gets scared and sad sometimes, and the medicine helps me to feel better.” A much simplified, child friendly answer that will hopefully help sway Leya to the side of openness.

And, it apparently does. “Will medicine help me with my bad thoughts?”

Roman nods. “It will.”

Leya looks away, clearly trying to use all of the information to formulate a response. “Okay.” One word. Simple. Very fitting for her. Looking between the two of them, she asks so sweetly, “you guys are gonna help me get better….right?”

Roman’s eyes shut as he kisses the top of her head again, “of course, sweetheart.”

Scooting closer to join in the hug and revel in the much needed warmth of this moment, Solana kisses her cheek. “We will always be here for you, Cataleya.” Always. “I promise.”

[bloggerspam]

Big thanks to @stealingyourbones for providing much needed context to Jason's search for his birth mom. This wouldn't exist without some semblance of canon to lean on! (Even if I do twist it in fandom fashion....DC stands for Disregard Canon after all)

===

When Jason gets a hold of himself, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and takes a deep breath.

It's a mistake.

When he heaves in air, it's with the acrid stench of dumpster and sewage, not to mention Jason's dinner in the form of glop.

Ugh.

When he gets his wits about him, he straightens up to find that he's in a familiar place: Crime Alley.

Dani, who had been rubbing his back, backs off with a sheepish smile. "Whoops! Forgot first timers can have a rough go of it."

"…Right." Jason spits out the last of the vomit taste, surveying their surroundings. He was just here, not a couple hours ago, when he was given his parents’ box of things. Even so, something is off. Different.

It's Crime Alley, no doubt about it, but…

"You're too young to have much of a past," Dani grabs his hand once more, floating them up to the rooftop, "But that doesn't mean there's nothing to show you."

Jason's been picked up by Superman, he's flown before, via hero or grapple, but he doesn't think he's ever felt gravity fall away quite like this. When she first picked him up this way, there wasn't enough time to even feel disoriented. Here and now, it takes him a minute just to get his footing, not that feet are all that involved in the process.

Dani doesn't help, doesn't even give him the space to properly get oriented, propelling them up and up and up.

But he does, at the same time he realizes that she's looking for something and referencing a piece of paper she's gotten from somewhere. No, wait. Jason squints. It's a post-it, a neon green one with a little map drawn on it in purple ink.

That's…a color combination for sure.

"A-ha!" Dani perks up, stuffing the sticky note in her pocket and jetting them forward.

Straight towards a building. Straight towards a wall.

"Wai—" Jason tries to tug himself free, brings his free arm up to, he doesn't know, brace himself? He braces his feet forward, as if to possibly stop their inevitable slamming into the side of a building.

"Oh don't be such a baby," Dani doesn't even look over at him, green eyes flashing bright green as her grin goes feral. They speed up, Jason's heart seems to beat out of his chest. He cries out, shutting his eyes as a shiver works its way through him, the chill of the wind slamming through him, a feeling of something jamming itself from his feet to his legs to his chest to his head—

But the impact never comes. He opens his eyes, and he stares behind them at the now interior side of…presumably, the building wall they were about to slam into.

Before he can really comprehend what that means, that chill crawls through him again, quick as a slap to the insides, from his feet to the back of his head, and then he blinks.

Density shifting.

Huh.

"You could have just said—" Jason grumbles, focusing once more on orienting himself. How did Ender do it? The enemy's gate is down.

Jason huffs. Thanks for nothing, Orson Scott Card.

They dip and dive and curve around buildings, going through some of them, with no real rhyme or reason. Dani hoots and hollers, and eventually, Jason joins in. It's fun, going through his neighborhood from this angle.

He thought he knew every nook and cranny, from the ground as Jason Todd and from the roofs as Robin, but even still, it was never like this.

It's like a rollercoaster, instead of the swoops and curves grappling gives, it's like gravity keeps shifting, like he's looking at his home upside down, left side up, right side diagonal. Every single little thing is new.

Most of all, this weightlessness.

Even when Dickie taught him those flips, he's never been so light.

He wonders if this is how a true robin feels, hollow bird bones and all.

Soon enough Dani pulls them up above some kind of warehouse, one of many in the district surrounding them.

"So here's the thing," Dani grabs both his hands now, forcing him to look at her, "I've got another trick up my sleeve, but the one thing I can't do is stop sound."

"Sound?" Jason is so very confused, but then right before his very eyes, Dani disappears.

No, they both disappear. What the—

"Invisibility?" Jason can't help but say. So much for bat-training.

"Dingdingding," Dani sing-songs, "Now be quiet, you want to know the truth, right?

Before Jason can say anything to that, his mouth clamps shut as he's pulled downwards through the building. The scene they arrive at isn't a pretty one.

There're men littered around the floor, unconscious, but mostly woundless. Only two occupants stay standing.

One is a woman with a stiff upper lip, muscles almost stocky in nature, if not for the petite stature that frames it all. Hair cut into a sharp, angled bob; everything about her screams fighter. She's beautiful and rough at the same time.

She's also standing above, bloody knuckles and all, Jason Todd's very own birth dad: Willis Todd.

"You're gonna regret this, Shiva." Willis growls, hand clamped down on his bloodied arm.

The woman, Shiva, scoffs as she flicks blood off her knife. Jason resists scoffing himself, looking at the state of them.

Willis is bloodied, covered in knicks and cuts all over, but Shiva?

Pristine, save for the blood of her apparent enemies.

"Regret?" Shiva saunters over to Willis where he's collapsed and leaning on a stack of crates, "Do not be delusional. Your boss is the one who will regret this."

Willis bites his lip, but wisely keeps quiet. Shiva tilts his face up with a finger to his chin, getting in real close to whisper something in the scant space between them.

Jason stiffens from where he's watching with Dani, is this where they fall in love? Did Dani bring him here to witness something nasty right now?

But no. Shiva straightens up, pushing Willis' face away roughly with the tips of her really long nails. They look like claws, especially when they leave a cut on Willis' chin.

"Give your boss my regards, Todd." The click of Shiva's heels echo almost in time to Willis' pants of pain, "You know where to find me, once he regains what little sense he has."

It takes a long time for Willis to gather himself after that.

He wants to say something real bad, but Dani had said other people could still hear them in this state. The only reason Jason even knows he's not alone is the warmth coming from the hand in his.

He watches as his father limps his way out of the warehouse silently, the scrape of his shoe louder than any other noise.

When Willis turns the corner out of the warehouse, Jason feels himself being tugged up and through the ceiling to float in the sky, visibility returning as well as it can in the dim lights of Gotham.

Dani's eyes are focused on the distance, where his father is still limping away.

"What was that?" Jason finally asks, "Why did you show me this, is Shiva my mother after all?"

"That look romantic to you?" Dani rolls her eyes, dragging him to follow his wayward father, "I just wanted to give you context."

"Context?" Jason watches as his father enters what looks like a backdoor clinic, "For what?"

Dani doesn't answer, simply nose-dives them through the clinic’s ceiling.

There, Willis is getting patched up by a blond woman.

They look close.

They look intimate.

"Willis," The woman coos, "You have got to choose better employers."

"I know, I know," Willis soothes as she cleans out his cuts, "Soon, I promise."

"First they chose that secret agent double-crossing you," The woman clearly doesn't believe him, "Now this mercenary!"

"Sharmin, Shiva, I'm sensing a pattern," Willis chuckles weakly, "Got shit luck with the ladies, huh Sheila?"

Sheila rolls her eyes. "Do not lump me in with those…those harlots!"

Willis guffaws, and Sheila smiles as she finishes wrapping him up, giving in and laughing with him.

When they've calmed down, they stare into each other's eyes for a long moment, smiling.

"You've at least got one lady you get lucky with." Sheila grins, placing a gentle hand on Willis' chest.

Jason wants to gag.

"Helluva lady." Willis intones with a gravelly voice, "Might buy a lotto ticket."

They lean in, hard to say who does it first, to share a soft and gentle kiss.

"Aaaaand that's enough of that." Dani whispers, swiftly pulling them back through the ceiling.

She shivers dramatically, the movement of it jerking Jason a little, "Ugh. Old people flirting."

"You can say that again." Jason can feel his face scrunching up in disgust.

Dani twirls them up, and soon enough they're swallowed by the smog.

Here, in this faint darkness, it feels like Jason's in a dream. The smog feels endless and relenting, and perfectly encapsulates how lost he feels.

"So this Sheila woman is my birth mother?" Jason says into the abyss, not really expecting an answer.

"Yep." Dani answers f, "Was it everything you hoped for?"

"….They looked cozy." Jason says instead of answering. "In love, even. Gross as old people love can be."

"They were, I think." Dani agrees but doesn't expand, letting the silence float away into the smudge of Gotham Smog. It percolates, drifts around him as his emotions whirl within him like a silent tornado, zipping this way and that, sweeping all his thoughts away like a house in Kansas.

The sound of his blood pumping in his ears overlaps with the sounds of wind whipping round and round and round.

"….He was never like that, with Mom." Jason doesn't recognize the voice, at first, realizing too late that it was his own, raspy and lost, "Is it because he's younger, here?"

"I don't know." Dani shrugs carelessly, though her brows are furrowed in worry.

"I thought, even after everything, that my parents loved each other once upon a time." The smog surrounding them makes it hard for Jason to feel tethered, so he focuses on Dani's neon green eyes. "I thought maybe things just went wrong, that Willis changed because of—because of his job."

He doesn't realize how tightly he'd been squeezing her hand until she squeezes back. He almost lets go, before remembering he's only floating by virtue of her powers. She sighs.

"It's not your fault," Dani whispers, raising her free hand to hover over the medallion. The gears start to turn slowly again, the ticks and tocks jerky like they're being forced to spin. "No matter what, you have to remember that."

The smog starts to swirl, but Jason knows better now. He braces, shuts his eyes, and breathes as the world starts to shift again.

It's both quicker and slower than before. When he blinks, he's floating and thankfully not even a little bit nauseous. But it takes him longer to realize where, or rather, when they were.

They're in the old Crime Alley apartment, the one that Jason used to live in with his parents, floating just above the sofa.

Willis is digging through the fridge, grumbling, looking worse for wear.

Dani tugs his hand, snagging his attention, a finger to her mouth in the universal sign for quiet. Half a second before Willis slams the fridge door closed and turns around to see them, they both go invisible.

The noise begets another rustle, a little disgruntled murmur.

"Quiet," Willis soothes, "Mama ain't here anymore."

The man comes over to a crib, set in the living room for some reason, groaning as he rocks the baby back to sleep.

It takes another second for Jason to realize it's him.

"C'mon kid, I know you miss her." Willis gruffs out, "But she left you for dead."

The man sighs as baby Jason squirms, as if to refute him. "Still got shit luck with the ladies." He squeezes the baby, touches forehead to forehead. Baby Jason settles real quick after that. Much to Willis' apparent relief.

He looks tired, Willis. He looks broken down and on the verge of wasting away.

There's a knock at the door, soft and delicate. Willis stiffens but relaxes when Baby Jason stays asleep, gently placing him back in his crib.

He goes over to the door, and oh.

"You Todd?" Catherine asks, twitchy and young. In her early 20s, if Jason's math is right.

"Who's lookin'?" Willis leans against the door jamb, blocking the woman out of his apartment.

"Somebody wantin' to flip a coin." Catherine drawls. It's clearly a code phrase, and Willis grunts.

"Stay here." Willis tries to shut the door, but Catherine shoves a foot into the path, eyes blazing like she's daring him to shut the door in her face again. Willis darts a glance at Baby Jason, tense, but clearly deciding it would be faster to just grab the thing and make the lady go.

"Stay. Here." He growls out, letting go of the door and stomping back into the bedroom.

Catherine scoffs, but doesn't step further in.

That is, until Baby Jason makes a little noise.

She perks up, gently pushing the door in to find the source, eyes widening at the sight of the crib.

She looks towards the hallway where Willis disappeared, and Jason can practically feel the way she thinks fuck it.

Baby Jason is sniffling now, almost full-blown crying, startled by the stranger near his crib.

Catherine coos at him, ignoring the sounds of Willis running towards the commotion.

He stops in his tracks when he sees her soothing Baby Jason, bouncing him up and down in her arms and softly whispering nonsense into his ears.

Willis stays tense, his only son in the arms of a stranger, as he watches her put a now calm baby back into the crib.

"Are you hungry, little man?" Catherine asks, before snapping fingers at Willis. "Where's his milk? When's the last time you fed him?"

"Two hours ago," Willis bristles, storming over now that Baby Jason is relatively safe and pushing a small box into the woman's hands.

"So he's due for another meal," She says, not taking her eyes off of Baby Jason. Willis growls, using that box to push her away from the crib, towards the kitchen and the front door next to it.

"I know." He pushes her towards the door, "I'm gonna feed him after you're gone."

True to his word, he shuts the door, huffing and puffing for a moment like an angry cat, before heading to the kitchen to start the process of warming up formula.

He crosses his arms and leans back against the counter as he waits for the milk to finish warming up, eyes shut and clearly trying to keep it together.

Jason and Dani watch as the microwave dings, quickly followed by a comical yelp as Willis opens his eyes to see Catherine, sans box, opening the microwave door and snagging the bottle to beeline towards Baby Jason.

"Wait—you—" Willis dashes over, thrown off guard, "You didn't test the fucking milk!"

"Don't swear in front of the baby." Catherine sniffs, stopping beside the crib and testing the temp on the back of her hand. She hums, making an approving face at Willis, seemingly deeming it perfect.

She pushes the bottle back into Willis' hands just as he comes to a stop before he can reach out and grab her. The momentary confusion allows her to gently pick Baby Jason back up into her arms.

"Here you go big guy," She coos, putting her palm out and flexing her fingers in a demand for the bottle, which Willis dazedly acquiesces to. "Dinner's served."

Jason watches as his birth dad slumps, defeated, and tries not to fucking laugh.

He must be close to losing it, because suddenly his arm is yanked up, and he goes through the roof into the open air of the Gotham sky.

He looks over, Dani coming back into visual, and they both burst out laughing.

"Is—" Jason heaves a breath, getting himself back to rights, "Is that how they got together?"

Dani's giggles echo through the buildings, "Actually, no!"

"What???" Her giggles peter off as she wipes a tear from her eyes, grinning at Jason's confusion.

"It takes them a while," Dani’s eyes are so very bright in her mirth, "She has a couple more pick-ups to do, and every single time she comes a little earlier, leaves a little later, all so she can play with and feed you."

Something warm bubbles in Jason's gut, like steam traveling through the nooks and crannies of him. It goes out from the center until the very tips of his feet and hands and head are warmed through.

"And then she comes by a week later, unannounced." Dani pulls them back down through the building, landing them outside the apartment, down the hallways of it. She drags him as the medallion spins once more, this time smoother, quicker, and it's like a hop, skip and a step as the world becomes a mirage, solidifying again.

The once-empty hallway now has Catherine, duffle bag in tow, knocking gently at the door. A minute goes by, and a sleepy Willis Todd opens up, confused as all hell.

"I love your baby," Catherine says. "I love him, and he's mine."

Willis stares at her through bleary eyes, brows furrowed in indignation.

"I can't steal him away," She continues, ignoring the way Willis puffs up in threat, "And you can't do this alone."

A beat.

And then Willis deflates. He brings up a hand to ruffle his hair, grumbling and frustrated and clearly knowing that she's right.

He steps back and opens the door wider.

Catherine beams, before skipping inside, the door closing with a soft little snick.

"They loved you." Dani says, once more visible, "Whatever happened after, they did love you."

"I know." Jason whispers, a little broken, "I just don't know why they stopped."

Dani bites her lip, fingering the medallion, before clutching it in trepidation. Teeth worrying her lip, she looks at him, and breathes a cold, heavy sigh that stirs up the wind around them.

"Willis loved Sheila," Dani begins, walking towards the end of the hallway as it starts to ripple, like a mirage. The medallion hums more ticks and tocks and starts to whirl, spinning softly yet too fast. It makes it hard to tell which way it's spinning, clicking this way and that in an optical illusion.

Dani chooses a door, a dark purple one that wasn't there before, opening it up and pulling him in.

The room is equally purple, dark, and dimly lit, with just as purple furniture: A single sofa and a small TV, staticky and glowing a faint green.

Dani leads him to sit on the sofa, gesturing to the TV as scenes start to play, skipping and fast-forwarding and pausing and playing as she talks.

"Her leaving broke something in him." Sheila with a suitcase, slamming the door on her way out. Willis with his head in his hands as Baby Jason cries and cries and cries.

"Catherine loved you," Dani smiles at a series of moments, Catherine blowing raspberries, tickling his belly, having baby food fights with him just because, "And she made it easier, made it better."

"Eventually, she came to love Willis too." This particular scene plays in slow motion, Catherine and toddler Jason giggling with each other, drawing what looks like a family portrait in crayons. Toddler Jason's isn't too bad for his age. Catherine's isn't too bad for her age either.

It makes current Jason smile, until something catches Catherine's eye, her smile never dimming as Willis comes in to laugh at their drawings, eyes going all gooey as this invisible camera zooms in.

"But Willis…" Dani bites her lip again, watching with him as the scenes skip and fast forward. "Willis was stuck."

Willis watching Catherine and Jason playing on the living room floor, Catherine coaxing him to bed, Willis sitting alone on the couch, over and over with different activities, different clothes, different days.

But always, with Willis sitting in the dark, a single beer in one hand, a torn-up picture in the other.

Until it’s two beers, then three. Eventually, Catherine tries to coax him to bed only to get rebuffed.

More bottles of beer, more times away. Catherine finds a stash.

Catherine crying in the dead of the night, after smiling all day for Jason. Until eventually she can't, chasing a high she can't have.

"I don't love you." Willis is saying, voice boxy and tin-like through the old school speakers, "I don't love you, and that's the problem."

Catherine is sobbing, and Jason knows that pre-teen Jason is sitting on the other side of that door behind her.

"All life's a game," Willis hiccups, taking a long swig, "And we're all fuckin' losers."

Jason watches as more scenes flip through, familiar ones. Painful ones, phantom bruises on his arms and face.

The TV goes static again, but Jason doesn't look away. Can't.

He thinks about Bruce, his fight with him. Jason throwing those exact words at him, how powerful being Robin makes him feel.

All life's a game, Jason had said, not knowing, not remembering where it came from.

"I guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree." Jason mutters, clenching his fist.

Dani sighs again, grabbing his hand and lifting him up, the medallion coughing and sputtering as the room around them fades back to a familiar sight: his room at the Manor.

"I didn't show you these things so you could wallow." Dani grumbles, dropping him unceremoniously onto his bed.

He bounces once, twice, a breath knocking out of him lightly from the sudden drop and impact.

"Why did you show me then?" Jason grumbles back, maintaining his position as a depressed starfish in the middle of his stupid giant bed.

"You're the one that wanted to know!" Dani throws her hands up, exasperated, "You're the one that wanted answers. I gave them to you, and now you're no fun. Isn't this what you wanted?"

Jason doesn't answer. Can't, really.

Because she's right. It is what he wanted. He knows who his birth mom is, he knows why Catherine was like that, and most of all, he understands Willis Todd's shitty fucking life.

Great Tragic Backstory, still a fucking asshole.

"I should have listened to Danny…" Dani mutters to herself, floating upside down as her face scrunches up in consternation, "He can probably fix this…"

"Did you forget your cane at home?" Jason jolts up, turning to see Danny's head popping up through the bed, like some kind of fucked up swamp creature, without the water. Jason shakes his head, plopping down again when Danny fully emerges to float up to Dani.

"What cane?" Dani tilts her head in confusion, but allows Danny to fuss over her.

Jason scoffs, He's the one being taken for a ride, what danger would she be in? Talk about overbearing.

"Your seeing cane," Danny answers matter of factly, before grinning with sharp teeth, "It's just, that was a lotta blind faith you got there, y'know?"

"I thought big brothers knew everything!" Dani giggles as she pushes Danny away. "But I guess you're right, that was too much to expect from you, huh?"

His grin gets a little sharper, if that's possible with the fangs he's rocking, as he lunges for her to put her in a headlock. They tussle like that, Jason watching from where he's still starfishing.

It's nice to see, if a little envious. He thinks about Dick, and then adamantly doesn't. He sits up to ruffle his own hair in frustration.

He's still not sure how to feel about Willis, about finding out about his birth mom leaving him for dead.

About Catherine, the mom he always knew about, the mom he knew nothing about,

The mom he lost.

Bruce was right, he's a fucking mess about this. He doesn't know what to feel, but he knows this at least:

Robin is magic, and Jason?

Jason's just an unwanted kid running around in tights.

Playing.

He blows out a breath, wallowing.

"He's doing it again." Dani's voice breaks him out of his funk, lifting his head to look over at the ghost siblings.

"I see what you mean." Danny tilts his head in thought, "A real self-deprecating sort, huh?"

"Tell me you have depression without saying you have depression." Dani grumbles, grossing her arms and hunching her shoulders up.

Danny hums, giving her a pat on the head and looking contemplative as he watches Jason straighten up to sit at the edge of the bed. If Christmas Carol was the theme, that means it's Danny's turn. Ghost of Christmas Present and all that.

Jason's not really looking forward to it. Sure, it helped Scrooge to see the current state of things from the other side, but Jason already knows his state of things.

Bruce is mad, Alfred's disappointed, and Dickie couldn’t care less. If Sheila's alive, she probably already thinks he's dead. Mrs. Walker has washed her hands of his family, he's sure, and the rest of the Alley…Well.

It ain't unusual to lose an acquaintance or two over there.

Dani throws her arms up, huffing as she jerkily takes the medallion off to toss it at Danny. "He's your problem now."

"Mom wants you home for dinner!" Danny calls out as he puts on the medallion and opens up a glowing green portal for Dani to go through.

Dani mumbles and grumbles as she passes through, Jason catching phrases like wanted to know and not be fudge and disappearing with the portal in a little pop!

Leaving Jason alone with the ever-present looming of the Present.

A Christmas Carol AU

Inspired by a prompt found in the @haunting-heroes-creative-games :) (i.e. back on my shit again)

When a 15 year old Jason, pissed at Bruce for taking Robin away from him, finds his birth certificate he realizes Catherine Todd is not his real mother.

Just as he resolves to go out and search for his birth mother, Jason finds himself accosted by three ghosts in his room, talking about A Christmas Carol of all things.

===

"So, what? We're gonna Christmas Carol him?"

Dan scoffs, crossing his bulky arms with an unimpressed look. "We hated that movie."

"I didn't." Dani chirps, disturbingly cheery, "I didn't see it!"

"We hate Christmas," Danny corrects, "But the movie was alright, and the logic is sound."

"I don't hate Christmas," Dani once again interjects cheerily, "I've never participated!"

"Sound my ass," Dan growls over her, throwing his hands up. "We don't even know this guy!"

"Minor detail." Danny insists, "Tuck can look him up."

"He's a fucking Bat, Danny." Dan scrunches up his face, pinching the bridge of his nose just like Vlad does when he's disgruntled with any of Dad's shenanigans.

"He's a Robin, actually." Dani pipes in, "And he's just a kid. How hard is it gonna be to pretend to be this kid's Ghosts?"

"You're a kid," Dan reminds her, crossing his arms, "And you didn't believe me when I told you sticking a fork in the outlet would shock you."

"I believed you," Dani sniffs haughtily, crossing her arms and pointing her nose up with a snooty voice, "The warning simply did not deter me from doing it anyway."

"We don't have to convince him we're his Ghosts, or even that we knew him before," Danny reasons, needling, "We just have to convince him that we're…"

He hums, pointing at Dani. "Past."

He points at himself, "Present."

He points at Dan, "Future."

Dani does a little cheer, arms up and twirling into the air before landing with her legs over Dan's shoulders, hands and head settling atop Dan's fiery, but harmless, hair. It flickers, before going limp into long white strands that Dani messes up by gently scrunching up the strands and running her fingers through them.

Dan lets her, huffing and looking weirdly like a downtrodden, wet cat. "Why am I future?"

"Because." Danny doesn't continue, because he knows it makes Dan annoyed. True to form, his scowl gets worse, like sucking on a lemon. They all know why anyway.

Dani grins, triumphant and knowing, letting her voice go real deep, "The future," she intones into Dan's hair, "is here."

"The future is now," Danny corrects her, but doesn't lose his smile, floating up to tuck a strand of her hair back behind her ear.

"The future is already here," Dan mumbles his correction, or is it a follow-up? "It's just not evenly distributed."

"How about you distribute some of those muscles, Gibson," Danny sighs, shaking his head "Waiting for puberty is such a drag, and we both know you didn't get the mass from Vlad's side of the family."

Dan makes a moue of disgust, but it serves him right. The consequences of his own actions, and whatnot. He looks up at Dani, who simply shrugs. "I think you'll do great." She leans down to give him two pats on the arm.

"So how's acting out A Christmas Carol gonna help us stop this Jason guy from blowing up?" Dani fiddles with Dan's hair, tongue poking out as she attempts a braid, "Will he even see us? Ghosts in this dimension taste funny."

"He'll be able to see us, it's magically rich enough for some ghosts to maintain a semblance of themselves," Danny explains for the third time. Dani and Dan hum at different pitches, and even though Danny is the common denominator he kind of hates that Vlad has more of a lasting impression on them. "The ectoplasm here is scarce and mostly corrupted, though, so it's rare."

"So there's lotsa bad ghosts here?" Dani eyes the messy braid she's made, proud, even as Dan's silky hair immediately causes it to fall apart, "Or 'mentally unsound' or whatever Frostbite called it."

"No," Dan grumbles, annoyed and indulging all at once, "Corruption begets ecto-rot, but the scarcity means they're not strong enough to actually retain their sense of self enough to rot."

"Shades," Danny explains when Dani looks even more confused, "There's lots of shades."

"Is this one of the Olympian dimensions?" Dani groans, flopping over Dan's shoulder as he sits down on the sofa, "I love Pandora and all, but if I see Zeus again I'm gonna lose it."

"It's one of the hero dimensions," Danny hums, taking over braiding Dan's hair the way Jazz made him when they were little, "There's a couple of Amazons walking about, but on the whole no Olympians."

"I don't know why he didn't just dump me in a Norse dimension." Dan leans back and closes his eyes to their ministrations. "Especially with my current occupation."

The three of them are sitting in Dan's apartment, a large loft studio located somewhere in the UK of the aforementioned hero-dimension. Alber-something, Danny can't remember. Doesn't need to, it being a different dimension from his anyway.

Dan doesn't have a lot of things: a sofa and TV, a bed in the corner, a decent but small kitchen. They're still trying to figure out decorations, but Dan on the whole is a minimalist so it's been slow going.

He's working as a bartender these nights, whiling away his odd existence now that his form has stabilized.

And wasn't that a trip? Learning that hey, adult lightning halfas shouldn't really be mixed with teenage ice halfas, actually!

Apparently, ectoplasm can become corrupted if you try to combine incompatible sources.

Apparently, side effects include (but are not limited to) unmitigated violence and a devastating need for vengeance.

Sound familiar?

"This dimension has a lot of time continuity errors," Danny reminds him, "Dropping you here gave the least amount of pushback."

"Yeah, yeah," Dan flaps a lazy hand, "Praise be the speedforce and flashpoints and whatnot."

"Plus," Dani adds softly, absent-minded as she watches Danny finish up the braid, "Lotsa heroes to help out if you relapse."

Dan heaves a slow, controlled sigh. Danny and Dani both pretend they don't notice.

"Is it bad?" Dan doesn't open his eyes, his voice is so low Danny can only hear him by virtue of his ghost powers, "Like me levels bad?"

"No." Danny shakes his head, leaning into his older self, his older brother of sorts, "He decapitated eight crime lords, killed a couple of assassins, maybe an innocent or two depending on your definition of things."

"Past tense?" Dan scrunches his nose. They all hate how confusing Time Shenanigans are.

"He's living as Red Hood, right this very moment."

"Red Hood?" Dani questions, "That his hero name?"

"Crime lord alias." Danny corrects her, "But he's more of a vigilante these days. Has a bat on his chest and everything."

"But it's bad enough to warrant a trip to the past." Dan points out, "Bad enough for us to try and persuade him. Does he relapse?"

"Not…exactly." Danny scrunches his face, not wanting to explain Clockwork's ambiguity.

Dani floats to spread over Danny and Dan's laps, sprawling out and purring like a cat. Self-soothing, though it's more for their benefit than hers.

"Like Dani said, there’re lots of heroes here, and he doesn't have powers." Danny continues, petting at Dani's soft hair, "The world doesn't end. He doesn't have the means to, even with the ecto-rot."

Danny pauses, and chooses his words deliberately and carefully. "And deep down, Jason Todd is a hero through and through. Relapse would be…difficult. His Obsession is similar to yours."

Dan lets that sit for a moment, but nods, Danny moving a little with the motion. The tension slowly bleeds out as they wait like that, enjoying each other's company.

"If the world doesn't end," Dani whispers, "Why is Clockwork sending all of us?"

Danny thinks on that, on his meeting with Clockwork. The Ancient's voice when he explained what would happen.

He thinks about Jason Todd, about Bruce Wayne, and Catherine, and Sheila. He thinks about Batman, and Robin.

He thinks about Dick Grayson and Tim Drake, about Damian Al Ghul, about Cassandra Cain, and all of Jason's Outlaws.

He thinks about a tattered uniform that stays up in a glass case for a long, long time.

Most of all, he thinks about Dan.

He thinks about regrets and one bad day away.

And then he stops thinking about it, because sometimes the past is the past, and other times, it's the future that never happens that haunts you instead.

"You know, Dani." He settles on, "I'm not sure. He probably has his reasons."

Dan leans heavier onto him, and they lean together like that, with Dani in their laps.

Ghosts of decisions made, unmade, and never to be.

Follow the story on AO3 here!

[wandering-pirate]

Mouthwashing Characters Headcanon

Christmas Day with You

Captain Curly

You and him baking sugar cookies in matching aprons? Peak domestic fluff His apron said "Sugar Daddy," and yours? "Daddy’s Sugary Snacc"

Yeah, that was all his idea. He couldn’t stop showing them off, grinning ear to ear, parading them around Walmart like it was a fashion show.

Meanwhile, you were just trying to hunt down all the ingredients in peace, but nope, he had to follow you around, flaunting those aprons.

After a war of flours, you successfully conjured up a decent batch

You had to use actual physical restraint to stop him from adding Vegemite to the cookies. The audacity. And when he ate one, took a full spoonful of it, and moaned?? Yeah, a monster

He’s obsessed with ski or any snow sport video game and always teases you for being a noob. But it’s all in good fun—he’s learned his lesson after the Mario Kart Incident that shall never be mentioned again

"Sweetheart, you’re gonna twist your joint with that posture—"

"Hush! You just wanna win gold again. Stop tempting me, you tall, handsome, bulky-ass demon"

Naturally, your competitive streak kicked in and, somehow, you ended up twisting your ankle

He played the role of nurse, cold compress in hand, sneaking kisses to your ankle because “it speeds up healing” (and also because he’s a shameless flirt who’ll use any excuse to be touchy)

You both gave up on the active stuff and just settled in for a holiday romcom. Of course, you both passed out halfway through

Nurse Anya

You made sure the fireplace was stacked to the brim with firewood because Anya + cozy fire = Christmas must

Your tradition? Her reading a book with her legs propped up on your thighs while you either watch your favorite YouTube videos or game

She’d be all serious about the book, but every now and then, she’d peek over at your screen, giggling at your reactions, but pretending like she was still super into the book

"What did he even trip on? Hell no, he deserved more than just getting skinned alive"

“Y/N, sweetie, natural selection. The weak always get eliminated”

"Mmm, makes sense"

When the clock hit a certain hour, it was handwritten letter time. Instead of gifts, you both wrote love letters to each other. This started when she told you how she re-read your first love letter whenever she got stuck on months long of hauls as a crew nurse

"Yeah, sorry, Anya. No letter this year"

"What? Bu—"

"Because you’re not getting back on that claustrophobic flying submarine this time"

Knowing how much she wanted to enter med school, you gave her the ultimate gift: fully paid tuition for a six-month medicine review center. You’d worked all year for it, and seeing her reaction made every second of it worth it

It was the first time you saw her cry. Anya, who’s always calm and composed, was sobbing in your arms, and it just wrecked you with love. You hugged her tighter, not sure who was more emotional at that point

"Y/N, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me"

Intern Daisuke

He planned the perfect Christmas adventure, complete with bullet points, timestamps, and color-coded charts. You had to give him credit for actually being organized for once—he really took his Christmas plans seriously

But, of course, the Christmas spirit was clearly not on his side this time. Everything that could go wrong, did go wrong:

Alarm didn’t go off

There was a traffic jam due to a fender bender

Your favorite thrift store? Closed for maintenance

Even the skating rink shut down after some bizarre oil spill caused a dogpile (like, how does that even happen?)

By the end of the day, you weren’t mad at all, just hungry. And somehow, Daisuke turned every misfortune into something you both would be giggling about

You both bought GIGANTIC mugs at Walmart that read, “The Grinch pales at my naughtiness.” They were immediately used to create the world’s sickest hot chocolate, piled with as equally large marshmallows and a diabetes-inducing amount of whipped cream.

Meanwhile, Daisuke was relentless in roasting the Grinch—he couldn’t stop hating on that movie.

“Who even hates Christmas? It’s the grand finale of the year! Absolute loser behavior.”

Mechanic Swansea

Christmas in the garage, for short, his sanctuary. The man thought of everything: fully insulated it, brought in a heater, all just to make sure you were warm and comfy while you both worked

Both of you had this wordless agreement to work on woodcrafts for Christmas. He taught you the basics of woodworking and you proved yourself to be a modern abstract Picasso. You improved throughout the years, tho. Your pieces? From abstract Picasso to expressionism Picasso

He loves carving because it gives him the perfect excuse to sit right behind you, guiding your hands with his. His big teddy bear frame is all around you, and something about that just hits him deeply. Like when he knows you’re safe and protected in his arms. And your eagerness to learn and follow his moves. He melts.

Naturally, you got a splinter, triggering his fierce Tsundere side

“What did I tell you about not rubbing fresh-cut wood? Keep this up, and I’ll just have you sit on my lap while I do your work for you.”

But underneath all that scolding, you could see his silent panic. He just hides behind transparent glass

"Stop smiling at me like that, you clumsy goof"

After crafting a spoon with a thirty-degree angled handle and an awkward head (he still called it perfect, of course), he whipped up his signature paella

Somehow, despite having eaten a thousand spoonfuls of it over the years, you still weren’t tired of it

Co-pilot Jimmy

Jimmy’s not really one for celebrating Christmas. Not bitter about it or anything, but he just treated it like any normal day. That all changed, though, when he realized that Christmas was your thing.

“Babe, why Christmas?”

“Honestly? I’m not really sure. But you know how, when we were kids, there’s that feeling of excitement, like when Christmas is coming and you can’t stop smiling? It just brings all that back, and suddenly, you feel like a kid again. So I guess, it’s just nostalgia, huh?”

He never really thought about it that way before. After all, his goal as a kid was always to grow up faster than everyone else.

So, you took it upon yourself to share all your favorite Christmas traditions with him, hoping to bring a little of that magic into his world:

Decorating your tree? He suggested replacing the star with an angel figurine... with your printed face glued on it. (Naturally, he followed through after you both went to bed, sneaking up to do it.)

Making a gingerbread house? He blocked the chimney, and when you asked why… well, he said it best:

“I don’t want some fat bastard breaking in, he’d eat the entire damn house”

By Christmas Eve, looking around his once-bare apartment, now filled with colors he didn’t even know existed, he couldn’t stop that tugging in his heart. He didn’t even realize how much of his childhood was missing until now.

You were patching up his unhealed wounds with your bandaids, and he didn’t even notice until it was too late. He's down bad

a/n: I know it's late T.T, but here's the crew having some holiday break... future angst coming up with curly and you (sorry)

also p.s. english ain't my first language, so i kinda felt like my whole headcanon writing abilities were crap... but these somehow are the top liked posts soooo... future HCs comin' down your way

[expia]

bf geto who loves to baby you

bf geto who feels in control when he does everyday tasks for you like brushing your teeth or washing up for you

bf geto who after the first time you slipped up and called him daddy he never lets it go

bf geto who’s always referring to himself as daddy now even in non sexual situations

Suguru wasn’t sure when it started—the quiet yearning to slow down, to savor the small things. It felt like it crept up on him one lazy evening when Y/N leaned against the counter, her sleepy eyes barely staying open as he stirred the pot of miso soup they’d been craving all day.

“Baby, you’re about two seconds away from face-planting,” he teased, stirring the pot as he glanced at her.

“No, I’m not,” she mumbled, but the yawn that followed completely betrayed her.

Geto smirked and turned off the stove before walking over to her. “Come here,” he said, gently guiding her to sit down at the table. “Let Daddy take care of you.”

She didn’t even argue, just let him set the bowl in front of her and kneel beside her chair with the chopsticks in hand. Scooping up some broth and tofu, he held it to her lips. “Open,” he murmured.

She blinked at him, a little dazed, before taking the bite.

“You’re spoiling me,” she mumbled after swallowing.

“Of course I am,” he said, brushing her hair behind her ear. “Daddy’s baby deserves it.”

That was how it always went. Little rituals of care—him wiping crumbs off her lips, tying her hair back while she washed her face, and pressing cool cloths to her skin when she was too tired to move.

Tonight was no different.

Y/N was already sitting on the edge of their bed, her head tilting slightly as she waited for him to finish in the bathroom. When Geto came out, washcloth in hand, she looked up at him sleepily.

“Baby, you’re barely awake,” he said softly, kneeling down in front of her.

“Mmhmm,” she hummed, eyes fluttering shut as he cupped her chin and started gently wiping her face. He was slow, careful, brushing the cloth over her cheeks, her nose, and her jaw like she was something delicate.

Her hands came up to hold his wrists loosely. “You don’t have to do this,” she murmured.

He paused, looking at her like he always did—with quiet adoration. “I know,” he said simply, pressing a kiss to her temple. “But I want to.”

She smiled then, that sweet, sleepy smile that always made him weak, and leaned into his touch.

“Come on,” he said, kissing her forehead. “Let’s get my baby to bed.”

is this based off me and my bf yes 😝☝️

[darknight3904]

All Too Well

Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: The appearance of a stranger in Jackson has your world turning upside down as Joel tries to keep you grounded.

Warnings: Violence, torture with a knife, guns, SA, mentions of gang rape (Neither are depicted in detail) Language, death.

Word Count: 2.9k

Previous Part / Series Masterlist / Main Masterlist

Alright, strap in folks, here we go.

May 2024

It happens in the blink of an eye, Ellie's voice yells his name, and all of a sudden you're no longer standing. Instead, you've straddled the newcomer and well for lack of a better word, attacked him.

"Woah, wait!"

Joel hands his gun off to someone he can't quite remember the name of before wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you off the man you've dubbed Adam.

You're kicking and screaming, cursing out both him and the stranger and Joel looks back at the man. Angry red streaks from your nails run down his face, close to his eyes, and in the dim light, Joel can see the finest streaks of blood.

"I'll fucking kill you!"

Your loud voice bounces off the surrounding buildings as he holds you back. Joel tells you to calm down but it doesn't do much good as you thrash. His eyes fall to Adam again and Joel can't help but wonder, who was this man?

"Take 'em to the stables." Joel nods to Louis who forces the man to his feet and motions for another man to carry the woman, "In an empty stall, tie 'em up."

As soon as Adam fades from view, Joel releases you. You deliver a hard shove to his chest and he stumbles back a step.

"You mind tellin' me what the hell is going on?" Joel huffs, his arms burning from holding you back.

"No." You seethe, your eyes remain fixed on the stable doors.

The next day, early morning...

Ellie watches the slow rise and fall of your chest. Joel had put you to bed last night on their couch. Ellie wasn't sure what was wrong with you. Just a day ago you'd been composed, laughing with her about Gladiator and now you were pulling apart at the seams.

She could tell you knew that man, Adam. Whoever he was, you clearly hated him. Ellie hadn't been able to get a good look but she was pretty sure you'd done a good number on his face.

"She up?" Joel asks quietly as he descends the stairs.

"No," Ellie sighs, "She looks exhausted though."

Joel nods as he peers over the back of the couch to get a better look.

"Why don't you get a move on. School's starting in," He glances at the clock, "Twenty minutes."

"It's a five-minute walk." Ellie points out, not eager to leave so soon.

"Just get going. Maybe that Dina girl will be early like you. Y'can talk to her while you wait." Joel says

Ellie groans but stands up anyway, hoping Joel can't see the way her face has gotten a bit red at the mention of Dina. How embarrassing he was!

The door slams shut five minutes later and Joel glances at the couch again.

"You can stop fakin'. She's gone."

You shift a bit under the blankets, you remind Joel of a big burrito. Last night, he'd tucked you under what had to have been at least 7 blankets. Your eyes had been glassy with fear and he'd sat by your side until you dozed off.

Joel sits down on the couch cushion your feet are closest to, he pats your calf through the blankets, "Gonna tell me what's wrong now?"

Another shift of the blankets and Joel hears a small sniffle before you sit up. Your hair is a mess as you push it from your eyes and look over at him. Your usually bright eyes are dull, stained red with tears while your nose is irritated from wiping it too many times as you sniffle again.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" Joel softly asks again

He hadn't expected to see tears. You were worrying him, first your erratic behavior last night and now you were crying the world's biggest stain into his couch.

It's quiet for a moment, so quiet Joel can hear the birds singing outside. Another moment passes before you look over at him, anger brimming in your eyes.

"We have to kill him."

Approximately 9 hours ago...

Joel watches as Ellie and Brett take you back to his house. He sighs and runs a hand down your weary face. You're in good hands, Brett, even if he's an idiot, won't hurt you. As for Ellie, well, at this point Joel would probably let her shave his whole head if it was necessary. He trusted her to take care of you until he could get back.

The stables reek. Even though they had just been mucked out before dinner, they still stunk. Shimmer lets out a snort as Joel passes.

Louis and another man, his name might be Matt stand at the doors to the last stall, their guns pointed at the strangers.

"Alright, let's try this again," Joel says looking down at the man, "Names."

"Adam." The redhead spits out, refusing to look up at Joel

So you were right. Just who was this Adam and what had he done.

"And her?" Joel nods to the woman, still unconscious.

"Lana."

"Why is Lana unconscious, Adam? One of the scouts said she was already out when they'd picked you up down by the dam." Joel says, remembering what Brett had said before walking off with you tucked into his side

"I don't fucking know. Can we please just get some food and water?" Adam scoffs

Joel shakes his head, what an ego this one had.

"You're not calling the shots here. I want answers. Then we'll think about getting you food."

The man lets out a small whimper. How pathetic.

"She passed out maybe an hour before your crew found us. I don't know what's wrong with her." Adam says looking down at the woman

Joel looks at Lana. She's deathly pale and looks more bone than flesh even in Louis' dim flashlight.

"Matt, I want you to take her to the clinic. Have the doc take a look at her but keep her tied to the bed."

Matt nods and gathers her up in his arms with ease before slowly walking off.

"Matt!" Joel calls to the younger man, "Keep her away from Maria."

"Will do, Joel."

Joel turns back to Adam whose hands are still bound to a post behind him.

"Now, where are you comin' from, Adam?"

June 2017, two weeks before the escape...

A warm washcloth roams your back. Weeks of dirt, blood, and grime stain the once-clean water. You focus on your fingernails, they're cracked and the cuticles are dry.

"Need to keep these clean."

A big hand traces the edge of a fresh wound and you shiver at the pain it causes.

"I know."

Your voice is barely a whisper as you try not to cry. This happened often, swallowing your tears. He hated it so much, the tears and the snot that came with them.

Adam liked smiles and pleases and thank you's, so that's what you did. You nodded and smiled when he asked you things, you asked him questions and tried to memorize things about him. Adam liked the color red, he didn't like flannels or the winter. He preferred deer over rabbit, he hated the taste of dog but didn't mind duck.

The house they'd holed up in wasn't big. A small ranch but it was good enough to wait out the horrible storm that had lasted through the night. Tomorrow they'd drag you back out on the road and leave you tied to a tree for the night. This home was a luxury you hadn't felt in a long time.

Adam had boiled water for you to bathe. In any other circumstance, it would've been considered thoughtful, romantic even. But it just made your skin crawl, the way his eyes roamed your body as you sat there, knees tucked to your chest while he cleaned you.

"Louder. I don't like mumbling." Adam says

"Sorry." You say, louder this time.

He nods and pushes your knees into the water. The rag runs across your chest as he gropes you a smirk lining his features when you shiver.

"You fucking slut."

Your head snaps to look at him. What had you done wrong now? You thought he liked it when you were responsive to his touches, grant it you'd been shivering in fear but he didn't need to know that.

"Three of us fucked you an hour ago and you're still lusting for more." He laughs

"N-No I-"

"No?" He scoffs, his face dropping the smile that'd been on his face just a second ago

You raise your hands up, bracing them against his forearms, "I didn't mean it like that I-"

His arms, which are so much stronger than yours after weeks of being tied, slam into you. Your feet kick in the water as he slams you down, your head hitting the floor of the tub. Dirty water fills your lungs as you grapple against the hand that has wrapped itself around your neck.

A muffled voice reaches your ears as your broken nails dig into rough flesh. Your gasp fills the air as he heaves you back up, your hair dripping water into your eyes.

"You don't get to say no to me."

Back to the Present...

Joel feels hot rage burn through him. He doesn't know if he's ever been this angry. You're scurrying after him, yelling his name as you pull a normal shirt on, Ellie had changed you into pajamas last night.

The door to the stables slams open, and horses snort and whinny in protest to his sudden entrance. Joel stalks toward the last stall where the guard, Kent has fallen asleep, his gun discarded on the floor.

Adam is in a daze of sleep when Joel cuts him from the post and hauls him to his feet.

"Wha-"

He doesn't get a word out before Joel's fist slams into his jaw. Adam howls in pain and falls to the ground. Joel feels his hand throb in protest as he gets another hit. Joel wants him to really feel it, he wants him to feel every ounce of pain he ever caused you and then some more. One more punch to his face lands when Adam tries to stand back up, this time it's for your cat and what this smug fucker helped to do to it.

"Wait! Stop!"

Adam is sputtering on the ground, his tied-up hands lifted to cradle his jaw.

Joel looms over the man, "Bet that's what she said to you when you hurt her, you fucking bastard."

"Who are you talking about, man? Lana? I never hurt her!"

Blood as red as his hair is streaming from Adam's nose as Joel sneers at him, "I think you know who I'm talking about."

Your name forms on Adam's lips, Joel can see the way his mouth quivers a bit as he gets the first letter out. Joel cuts him off with a kick to the face, he's not fit to say your name ever again.

Joel looks at Kent who is still out cold. A knife is tucked into his boot and Joel scoops it up.

He's going to make this hurt.

"Joel!"

You rip the stable doors open to see what looks like a horror scene. Joel stands over Adam while blood pours from the latters face like a faucet.

You rush over to Joel, keeping your eyes on Adam who just stares at you though a rapidly forming black eye. Joel looks down at you as you approach him. His free hand gently cups your cheek and his thumb runs across the skin.

"Go home, sweetheart, I'll take care of him."

You shake your head, you want to be here for it, for his ending.

"I want to watch."

A pained whimper leaves Adam's lips, "You fucking bitch."

A thump sounds and Adam's form crumples to the floor. Joel has kicked him unconscious. He glances behind himself at the sleeping guard you're pretty sure is Kent.

"Can't do it here. He'll scream too much."

Sneaking out of Jackson is easy. You and Joel ride right out of the gates, Adam's body wrapped in a large tarp, slung across Joel's horse. The guards on the wall are barely awake, not interested in you and Joel as you leave.

Joel leads you what must be at least five miles out from Jackson. The trees are denser here and when you reach a small clearing, Joel stops.

You tie your horses off as Joel pushes Adam's tarp-covered body to the ground and drags him a few hundred feet to your right. Your shaky hands run through Turnip's mane. She snorts at you as you offer her an apple. Pepper nudges you from the left, she wants a snack as well.

You watch as Joel unveils the man who has tormented you for years. You shiver as you think of your time with him. It had only been a few weeks but it felt like ages. Even in your dreams, you had been haunted by him.

"He's not dead right?" You breathe, Adam looks so still and Joel had kicked him so hard

"He's not," Joel says, reaching for his canteen.

Cold water trickles out of the spout and onto Adam's bruised face. He gasps and puts a hand up, commanding Joel to stop. Joel puts the lid back on his canteen, muttering something about not wanting to waste water.

Adam's eyes fall on Joel before they look at you. His eyes roam your figure for the first time in years and you want to jump behind Joel.

"How the fuck are you alive?" Adam asks, standing up, his hands tied in front of him. Clearly, he doesn't like the idea of you being taller than him.

You scoff, of course, that's his first question.

"I'm not as helpless as you think I am." You say

He scoffs in a way that makes you think he doesn't believe you.

Adam shakes his head, "If you're not helpless then you'll do it. I heard what you said at the stables. You want to watch. You want to watch him kill me. If you're so fucking independent then you'll do it yourself."

He's baiting you. Even now in his starved state he still had a good fifteen pounds on you. All he'd need to do is knock you down and wrap those hands around your throat.

"No." You look at him, "I don't ever want to touch you again."

Adam snorts out a laugh, fresh blood oozes from his nose as he does. Joel shoots you a look, he's ready when you are.

"You coward. You always were afraid of me." Adam takes a step towards you and Joel pushes him back,

"Don't fucking move." Joel's deep voice fills the clearing.

"I'm a part of you. I always will be." Adam looks back at you, his feet still, his eyes meet yours as a coy smile remains on his face.

"No, you're not." You clench your jaw, and Joel stares at you, waiting for the sign to start.

"We're one now, you and I..." Adam nods to Joel, "You can run off, spread your legs like a whore for this one here-"

Whatever was going to come out next never does, Joel moves faster than you've ever seen him move and slams the knife he was holding into Adam's leg.

A howl of pain leaves Adam's mouth as he tumbles to the ground, surrounded by pine needles and patches of clovers.

"Not another fucking word." Joel's gruff voice says

You stumble backward and sit down on a rock where Joel's saddle bag sits. Joel twists the knife free and blood pours out. Adams's screams begin to blend together as Joel runs the knife along his sensitive flesh. Long cuts begin to appear on his once smooth skin, they bear a remarkable resemblance to the ones that hide under your clothes.

How poetic this all is.

Joel reminds you of an artist as he works. Blood stains the once-perfect forest floor as Adam begins to beg.

"Please, Please, let me go! I'll never come back! Please!"

Joel grunts and shakes his head, "I'm not calling the shots here. Have to ask her."

You look over at Joel who holds the knife still.

"Go on, ask her." Joel's voice is strong yet quiet at the same time, "Ask her if you can live."

Adam turns to you and for a second you think he might be too proud to do it, that his ego will prevent him from pleading. A moment later, you're proven wrong,

"Please...." He gasps as his hand puts pressure on his leg, "Let me live, you'll never see me again!"

Your jaw tightens as your hands begin to shake.

"I-I'm sorry. F-For everything."

Joel lets out a scoff, "For everything? Actin' like you came into her home and broke a lamp."

Another shallow cut appears on Adam's skin, this time on his cheek.

Adam begins to sob and the stench of urine hits your nose, a wet patch has begun to form on his pants.

"I'm sorry!" He cries wet tears mixing with the blood on his face, "I raped you, and I-I'm sorry! Please, let me go!"

You swallow your spit, has your mouth always been this dry. You're a bit dizzy as you stand up.

"Say the word, sweetheart," Joel says, the knife at Adam's throat.

Your gun, the one you never leave Jackson without is tucked into the back of your pants. It's a simple thing really, a Colt Python that you had found two years ago stashed under the floorboards of an abandoned home.

Now, the gun is in your hands as you try to get them to stop shaking. Joel has stepped off to the side, his knife still in his hands.

"Please..." Adam begs again looking up at you from the ground in a puddle of his own urine and blood.

You shake your head, he's not leaving this clearing ever again. You cock your gun and Adam begins to sob in earnest.

"No!"

A crow caws loudly into the air. Somehow its eerie song gives you strength as your hands finally go still. You stare at him from the other end of the gun, and your lips move as a memory of a bathtub somewhere comes to mind.

"You don't get to say no to me."

The shot that rings out is deafening.

Next Part

Now, *cracks knuckles* we can focus in on the romance.

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to you from me. My gift? Adam's death. Let's throw a party and dance on his grave.

Comment to be added to the tag list. This tag list is not chapter by chapter, I carry the tags over to each part.

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