#I mean there's a bit in there where his mind gets ahead of itself and he thinks the worse of Victor

[razzle-n-dazzle]

saw u wanted more Adam fics

Adam x f!reader

reader is trying to sleep but Adam keeps trying to show her and tell her stuff. “Like babe hey babe look at this!”

“Babe babe wait did I tell you?”

“Babe holy shit wait guess what!!”

*meanwhile she screams into her pillow*

ᯓ★ "Adam, Love, SHUT THE F-" Adam / Reader | Drabble-ish

ᯓ Do you know those days where you just need a little piece and quiet? Like after a long day of work, where your boss was being unreasonable and your coworkers were being even more unbearable than usual. A long day when you go out to eat for lunch and yet the place you decide to go is busy more than usual, and of course it's on the one day you just wanted an easy meal, so you decide to sit and wait. What is the harm of that? Apparently, a lot. Especially when everyone has a stick shoved up their ass today, and when running over your lunch would have been understood and excused any day sparked a fire from Hell in Heaven. And it was only my five minutes! You were late to the office by five minutes despite having been sitting, waiting for lunch for twenty out of your thirty allotted minutes, and doing work to be ahead of schedule for your boss! You were late by five minutes because the sidewalks had been unreasonably crowded for that time of day and you had sprained your wing rushing not to be late earlier that morning because your boyfriend wanted to be up your ass for an extra five minutes this morning!

ᯓ Safe to say you just proved that there could be bad days in Heaven, no matter what anyone else said and you desperately needed a nap. Or maybe you just needed to knock out for the rest of the day, you weren't sure, all you knew was that your bed was calling your name and that was the only thing on your mind right now. Well, it had been the only thing on your mind until you stepped foot into your shared apartment. "Oh perfect fucking timing, Sugartits, come here!" Adam, with an obnoxious amount of energy today, waved you down to the couch. "Hurry up! You know I love to see that ass move when it walks, but this is super fucking important." And what could entertaining your boyfriend before you went and knockout for the rest of the night do? You mean, it was only thing he wanted to show you.

ᯓ "Fucking, look. Look!" Adam exclaimed as you heavily sat down next to him, allowing for him to cheekily swing an arm around your shoulder. This promptly led him to lean against you as he stuck his phone out, a video pulled up. You watched it to entertain him and his little fancy for whatever he had found; Being able to snuggle into his side in the process and listen to his hysterical laughter during the whole venture. It wasn't nothing too exciting, some sort of slapstick humor video and you understood why Adam found it hilarious, but you just didn't have the energy to laugh at it today. So you gave him a small chuckle as his arm found itself crossing down your back and wrapping around your hip, his hand resting on your thigh. "Oh fucking shit! You see, now that shit if fucking humor, comedy gold!" You needed whatever acid trip Adam was on and desperately.

ᯓ You would hum briefly in agreement towards his statement, feeling as his chest quickly rose and fall as he choked out laughter. Even with such motions you couldn't help but be drawn in by his warmth, snuggling closer to him. And you're sure he noticed, as he was sneakily trying to coax you more and more, using the hand that now was daringly close to your ass, to sit on his lap. Against his harsher, more lively breath, yours was slower and shallow, and as Adam managed to get you to snuggle up to his chest while on his lap, he took notice. It was hard to not to, especially when the sound of you not laughing with him just hit his ears. So confused, Adam would pear down at you. A few nervous bits of laughter left him, a silent signal for you to take notice of how he noticed your odd behavior, yet he died down as you didn't seem to notice (or care) much. Which caused his eyes to narrow and his eyebrows to frown up, a worried frown tugging onto the side of his lips. "Uh, Babe, you good?" His question was accompted by his gravely voice, which was now lower in volume and a lot less sure of himself. "You didn't fucking laugh at the video."

ᯓ "You do know this is comedy gold right? Gold! Not laughing at it would be a fucking crime." Adam would wave his cellphone near your face, flashing you with the bright light which caused you to promptly turn your head away from him. He noticed as your face scrunched, yet you didn't use your wings or hands to knock the phone out of his hand like usual. And that's when he really started to become concern. You weren't acting as you normally would with him, you weren't laughing at the videos he founded or retorting to his antics with your own. You were just laying there, curled up onto his lap with droopy wings and a weak hold around his chest. "Holy shit, Babe, you're not dying are you?" Was the first thing that blurted out of Adam's mouth, being the first thing thought that crossed his head as finally took a real notice of how bad of a state you're in. How the feathers on your wings seemed all out of sorts, how one wing was a little more puffed than the other, how eyebags had began to form under your eyes, and just how tired and weak you looked.

ᯓ "...and you're not getting fucking ugly either are you? It's not contagious is it? Because I can't be fucking ug-" You were swift to cut Adam off, pressing one of your hands against his mouth to muffle any more stupid shit he had to say in this moment. To which Adam drew back a little and started down at you, a moment of shock before unamusement crossed his face. He was gentle, more so than usual, as he picked up your hand by the wrist and drug it away from his mouth. Though he didn't say anything for a good moment, silently (and a little anxiously) waiting to see if you would say anything to him. And maybe it was the nerves on being the on the battle field too many times, or the anxiety of losing another lover, but Adam grew more and more disturbed at your lack of communication or movement the longer the silence wore on. "Babe," He gently nudged you, watching as you just let yourself roll back into place. You didn't even give a hum that time. Now Adam could feel his stomach doing little backflips. "Babe." This one came out a bit more stern as he nudged you a little harder. Yet, you only rolled back into place, not acknowledging his efforts on trying to make sure you weren't dying. Were you fucking dying? Holy shit, that would not be something Adam would want to go through today. "Babe! Sugartits!" Adam shouted, forcefully shoving you away from his warmth by the shoulders, "Please fucking tell me you're not about to die on me because that would be really fucking traumatic!.. If you're going to die at least do it in like, the bedroom or something!"

ᯓ You knew Adam didn't mean it, that he was just trying to stir a reaction out of you to make sure you were alright, yet his comment kind of pissed you off. Less so than when he forcefully drew you away from your only source of heat and comfort from the cruel reality you had to live today. So, reluctantly, you gave our a murmur, "...tired... shut up.." and forcefully tried to lay against Adam again; Trying to just take a small nap, or simply hide from the day you had today in your boyfriend's arms and warmth. Even if one of his hands had been resting on your ass. "Babe, you can't be fucking tired, it's not even dinner. Who the fuck is going to cook because last time I fucking remember you telling me I couldn't." Adam asked in a huff, though was silently relieved that you weren't just about to die in his arms like some dramatic soap opera. So, he let you lay back against his chest. It felt nice to have your weight there anyways. "Adam... shush.." Again, you tried to hush your rather obnoxious boyfriend, even for a little. And you knew he knew that you were tired, on the verge of passing out; It was a dead give away when he fluffed out his wings and wrapped them around you, noticing had dead you felt against him.

ᯓ "But you're still fucking making dinner though, right?" He would quip, a snicker growing on his dumb face as he leaned down to the side, promptly laying you both down. Now you knew he was just being a dick about it, that or he was just glad that you weren't silently suffering and dying against his chest. But either way, you were going to leave his question unanswered as you buried his head against his chest. No matter how much shit Adam might give you, you always found comfort in his warmth and with him being near. It was kind of like having an annoying dog that looked and sounded all tough and scary and was sometimes a big dick, but secretly cared about you under all the gunk. "Fuck it, I'll just order in." Adam muttered, placing his chin on the top of your head (having to curl around you a little to do so) as you were sure he began to pull up menus of restaurants nearby that delivered. And as you drifted off to sleep, you liked to believe he did so, so you didn't have to worry about cooking when you woke up. But you knew that was only half the truth, the other half was that he was probably craving those lamb chops he absolutely adores. And you were fine with that.

Home | Masterlist

ᯓ★ All posts/fanfictions posted under this blog is owned by @razzle-n-dazzle. Please do not steal, copy, or plagiarize the works! Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated.

[hyunnie04]

tender

lee know x reader, hurt/comfort | m.list

wc: 1.4k | warnings: themes of depression and struggling with mental health

a/n: this fic is a little self indulgent as i haven't been feeling great lately. so i hope this brings comfort to anyone who needs it ♡

you don’t remember how long you’ve been sitting in the tub. you’re sure your hands have pruned and wrinkled due to the prolonged time you have been in here, but you can’t seem to bring yourself to care.

the sides of your head pulses as a migraine at the forefront of your temple starts to fully form. you had hoped a moment of reprieve in the bath would calm your nerves and ease your headache, but it had yet to do so.

the droplets fall slowly against your furrowed eyebrows and taut expression, dripping freely down on your chin and on the dewy expanse of your chest. both arms are splayed limply across the sides of the tub, staring blankly ahead at the white tiled walls above, unmoving. 

the temperature was warm, too warm for your usual liking but you didn’t seem to mind today, welcoming the dull pain it brought. the white tiles that you’ve been staring at for what seemed like forever stared back at you.

the silence was deafening.

a lot has been on your mind lately. the restless and constant feeling of not being good enough and comparing yourself to others caused you to no longer find enjoyment in the things you used to love doing.

words that usually meant nothing had stuck themselves inside your head as well, dissecting every meaning when they had none. sleep did not come easily to you these nights, tossing and turning, failing to succumb into the comforting arms of sleep.

isolation became your company in these moments, withdrawing yourself from everything. missing out on a lot of stuff, in turn, made you feel worse than you already did.

you knew you should probably tell someone about your problems but you just couldn't find it in yourself to do it. the last thing you wanted to be was a bother.

some days are admittedly better than others, where you’re able to get things done, to do your obligations and continue on with life like normal. but when you least expect it, it creeps up on you, pulling you back into that unhealthy head space.

you tried to force these thoughts and feelings down for a long time, pretending that everything was fine. today was apparently the day it all came rising up, unable to keep a lid on your bubbling emotions.

a sense of dread hung over your head, eyes aching from all the crying you did. wet strands of hair had clumped together, obscuring your view, perturbed by how sometimes your skin doesn't feel like yours.

“y/n?”

the bathroom starts to fog with mist, clouding the glass and mirrors, the water slowly scalding your skin. the call to sink down into the water and never come up are louder than ever.

“-y/n? are you in there?” a voice makes itself known. lifting yourself up a little bit, startled at the faintest sound of knocks.

you forget that minho would be home around this time. a hand flies towards your forehead to ease the pounding pain. shit, you haven't started making dinner. 

it takes a while before you answer, collecting yourself as to not sound as shaky. “yeah! just finishing up, i'll be out in a sec.”

“don’t get out, i'll join you.” he yells back, the sound of padding feet against the wooden floors reverb through out the apartment. your eyes flicker at his sudden decision, causing you to sigh and sink down into the water once more.

as much as you adored and love him and how most days would let him join you with no hesitation, you silently hoped that he wouldn't today. you couldn't bear to let him see you in this state, all disheveled and puffy eyed. but it was rare when he was even home, given his grueling schedule.

so you wait for him patiently to come over to your shared bathroom, hugging your legs tightly. you remember to turn the cold tap on and off before he enters, water droplets filling in the silence.

when he finally creaks open the door with nothing on but a bathrobe and a silly cat headband that kept his hair away from his forehead on, you can't help but smile even if it doesn't quite reach your eyes.

you inch farther into the corner, making space for him quietly as he gets in. if he had noticed the temperature of the water that had yet to cool down, he made no attempt to comment.

the two of you don't say anything for the time being, just in each other's corner, relaxing and leaning your arms on the cool edge of the tub.

“you’re quiet.” his voice echoes. minho’s voice cuts through the silence, a stark contrast to the quietness of the bathroom just moments ago.

“i’m sorry.”

feeling minho’s heavy unwavering gaze into the side of your head, you can’t help but feel awful. you don’t mean to be so curt with him, but any more words from your mouth frightens you, afraid that the underlying shakiness of your voice will give you away.

your eyes still keep averting his, afraid of what expression he might bore. will he look at you with pity? with a tired gaze of disappointment?

he does not. instead, minho grabs one of the lavender scented shampoo bottles placed neatly on the shelf and gestures for you to turn around. you follow his request, albeit apprehensively, turning around.

“there we go.” he says. even if you refuse to meet his eyes, you could tell he was smiling as he said it.

minho takes great care to shampoo your hair, his blunt nails gently raking over your scalp, unknowingly soothing your dreadful headache. minho is observant, very much so. it doesn’t surprise you at all anymore when he suddenly asks.

“what’s wrong, hmm?” he finally says amidst the stillness of the atmosphere, tone dripping of comfort as his hands continue to lightly massage through your soapy tresses. you lean into it like a desperate cat, melting at his simple touch. oh how you've yearned for his touch.

although you don’t answer, his intuitive nature already knows that something was amiss.

“you know i’m always here for you.” minho says, pressing a delicate kiss on your shoulder. his sweet words and murmurs of comfort act like a salve to your aching heart as tears start to gather at your lash line once again.

you always hated making him worry.

the overwhelming emotion brings you to tears, immense guilt ebbing at your seams. minho places his head on your shoulder as you cry, hands running up and down your sides in an attempt to soothe you.

he doesn't deserve this, to be left out, to not know the reason you're so distant lately. he trusted you and you trusted him. so you spill every little thing to him.

voice starting to rasp, your stuttering cries now unrestraint without fear of judgement and just allowing yourself to be vulnerable. salty tears start to meld together with the water in the tub, rippling as they fall. at last, you feel lighter. the weight that you carried for so long in your heart doesn't have to be carried alone.

after a while, the hiccupping in your throat and the tears start to subside, leaving you a sniffling mess. turning around to finally face him, you fought the urge to hide in your hands.

"feel a little better now?" minho looks at you with nothing but a loving smile, no underlying judgement, just adoration, and one that makes you dive into him. you feel so utterly loved, what did you do to deserve him?

your arms wrap around his neck, placing apologetic kisses on his lips. he reciprocates, hands going around your back to steady your form. your mouth tumbles out watery apologies as he caresses the skin of your nape, gentle as he can.

you release him, arms still hooked around his neck, looking deeply into his eyes as if he's the center of the universe, and to you, he is. "i love you." the edges of your vision cloud with the tell tale signs of drowsiness, finally finding it in yourself to relax in his hold.

and he lets you, guiding your head to rest on his broad chest, the steady beats of his heart thumping against your temple, grounding you, his feathery light touches lingering.

feelings like these come and go, but minho is a constant that you keep close to your heart.

“thank you for putting up with me.”

"of course, i love you too."

[erxxi3]

A Sloppy First With Carlos?

Pairings: Carlos Oliveira x Fem! Reader

Summary: You have been dating Carlos for quite some time and finally decide to let him claim you as his own, but it is more like some sloppy sex.

Cw. Smut (nsfw), p in v, praise, virgin reader gets their first time wit carlos, dom carlos?, some begging, needy/desperate reader, a bit body worship if you squint ur eyes just a bit, possessive & a bit of cocky carlos, relationship had already been established yet we skipping to the part of where he just gives u a sloppy first time just to enjoy every moment of him inside you! This man is gonna make you a milf after he’s done fr fr want u to be the momma to his kids. Some fluff at the end there is def aftercare but I got too lazy to write it….

A/N: I’ve never written for Carlos before, so this is my first time writing for him and feel free to give me feedback!

SMUT AHEAD!! MINORS DNI!

Carlos Oliveira is definitely a charming guy when it came to women, but that all changed when you came into his life. He became so tough and cocky around you and others that it made him the kind of guy who didn’t let himself be vulnerable in front of people. It also caused you to fall for him a little bit faster. That was exactly what you wanted. Someone strong, and not afraid of showing it. The only problem with your choice was that he wasn’t exactly someone to get along with very well and was even more of an asshole than he already was.

Not something you expected from a man like that. But if it meant you could feel secure in his arms, then so be it. You could live with any kind of attitude. If he just wanted to keep you safe then so be it. You wouldn’t mind at all, actually. You enjoyed being near him, even if it made your heart beat faster and butterflies flutter in your stomach. You thought his roughness was sexy, even if you were slightly scared of him sometimes. And as long as there wasn’t going to be too much violence in the future, maybe you would be able to handle things better. Just give him some time, yet It wasn’t like you couldn’t deal with the bad side of him.

I mean he could be a total dickhead at times, sure, but you could tolerate that, too. He still respected you, afterall, and that was what really mattered. As long as you were happy and satisfied in his arms. And you had been that all this time. All your years of dating with a guy like Carlos Olivera didn’t go wrong. He treated you right, despite your flaws and his ego.

His ego brings out the best in him wether it’s in bed or out of bed, so there is no doubt about what you saw with him in bed that night. He was absolutely gentle, but rough when he kisses you sloppily, his hands firm when they roamed your body, and he took his pleasure in making you squirm underneath him. His tongue is hot and insistent in licking every inch of your skin and his fingers are rough and warm when they caress your breasts through the thin cotton fabric of your tight dress. And his eyes. Oh, Carlos’ eyes looked as if they were dark pools filled with lust and possessiveness. Without hesitation he took off his pants dropping them to the floor, his erection already trying to poke out the side of his boxers. You tried to take his boxers off although he had prioritized in spreading your legs apart and placed his hard member between them, foremost, further apart.

Fingers had trailed straight under the waistband of your dress while his hands started ripping your dress off, and your bra followed. With quick movements he tore the straps and panties away leaving you bare beneath his gaze, completely naked from head to toe. His lips left yours. Carlos began to apply lube to his hardened and throbbing cock, before slowly inserting it inside you, setting a slow movement in and out of you in a way that was torturous in itself. You whimpered from the sensation, but his grip on your hips tightened making the pain go away momentarily. Sloppily beginning to thrust into you, his pace quickened until he hit a certain spot that made you scream with pleasure. “Oh, God...” you moaned breathlessly before closing your eyes.

You never felt that way with anyone else. This is not your first time to say the least, but definitely better than masturbation to say the least. It made you feel so incredibly sensitive that it left you weak, yet at the same time it made you feel powerful and desirable. “That’s my girl…” he growled in a deep voice, grabbing one of your wrists and positioning it over your head as he continued hitting your sweet spot with his thick shaft. You moaned again while tears filled your eyes from the intense pleasure he gave you.

Your breathing started becoming erratic as he kept slamming his heavy cock into you with such force. He held your face, placing soft kisses all over your exposed cheeks and neck, causing goosebumps to appear on your flesh. “You feel so good, baby...” he whispered against your ear. Soon following after with, “Fuck… I’m gonna cum if you keep this up...”

“Don’t stop...” you begged breathless, feeling a shiver go down your spine as Carlos continued pumping his stiffening cock inside you. He kept pressing harder, making you cry out and bite your lip hard to prevent yourself from begging for mercy. “Please don’t stop….” You could hear your own voice quiver slightly, almost like a sob. In a moment you lost your restraint, and threw your head back, arching your back as you screamed loudly. A loud moan escaped your mouth as waves of ecstasy washed over you, and your muscles started tingling from his relentless thrusts into you.

He was getting close, you could tell, and soon he won't hold himself anymore. “Carlos…” you murmured, unable to finish your sentence because your breath was short and labored, and your voice was hoarse from screaming out.

You needed him to get you to your climax and come, now, now, now, you thought.

“Please..please…” you whimpered, feeling your body shaking with both excitement and desperation. Suddenly, everything came rushing in.

The orgasm. Carlos.

Your surroundings. Carlos’ name coming out of your mouth, His scent surrounding your whole being. You felt as if you were being penetrated by a monstrous cock very sloppily, even though you were. His warm and hard cock rubbing against your inner walls in time with his frantic thrusts. “Almost there… ah- hold out a little longer, baby…” Carlos grunted out of breath, panting heavily, his entire body trembling. Your breathing was starting to come out ragged as well, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you climaxed once again. “That’s it, baby… Come for me…” The next few minutes passed by in a blur, each second passing with such intensity it was overwhelming you. Carlos finally stopped after a while, releasing his cum inside you.

Your throat was sore and raw from screaming and your muscles were tense and sore from all the stretching, while your back was arched which he forced you to do as your climax hit. Carlos laid beside you and pulled the sheets up around you as he kissed your temple. "Are you alright?" Your mind was fuzzy as you nodded and snuggled closer into his chest. "...Yeah," was your reply, barely above a whisper. Your eyelids were glued shut, as you struggled to stay awake.

Carlos chuckled softly. "Did I fuck you that hard?" You shook your head and mumbled in reply that you loved how wild he got. "Mmm...you're welcome." After a while you felt tired and sleep began creeping onto your consciousness. Carlos seemed to sense this and wrapped his arms tightly around you to keep you warm as he nuzzled his nose against your cheek. "Get some rest, baby," he said quietly. You hummed in response as you relaxed into his hold, letting yourself drift off to sleep.

You were so tired that you were able to ignore the sound of heavy breathing, but it eventually woke you up when the covers moved slightly. Opening your eyes, and noticing your boyfriend staring at you intently. "Hey...sorry did I wake you up? Go back to sleep..." he whispered kissing the top of your head as he ran his hands gently through your hair. You buried your face deeper into his chest, and let out a small sigh as you cuddled up to his chest. Carlos laughed again, running his hand through your hair one last time before turning off the light with his other hand and lying down behind you, holding you tightly.

"I love you so much..." he said softly, kissing the crown of your head gently.

"Goodnight..." you breathed out before finally closing your eyes and falling asleep, enjoying the soothing warmth of his embrace.

[bafvkun]

I just feel like talking about how deep Mikayu’s bound runs don’t mind me (HEAVY spoilers ahead).

Lets get this straight : i don’t care if you ship them or not (even if you would be a fool not to) but no one can deny that they’re literal soulmates and I’m gonna show you exactly why.

Yu and Mika were ALWAYS bound to find each other and reunite. I’m not saying that because I’m delusional it’s literally canon. Their relationship is as old as dinosaurs and once again : this is canon.

Yu (or should I say Mika but like whatever if you didn’t read the scans it would take an eternity to explain) was literally created for Mika. The sole purpose of his existence was to look after Mika and be his only friend. Since day one they were ment for each other.

They swore on every stars and defied fate itself that they will always found each other again no matter how many times they die or get taken away from the other in a way or another, no matter their race, age or era.

There I was talking about the first versions of them, but let’s talk about the main one, the one we all know in the anime and throughout the whole manga, Yuichiro and Mikaela Hyakuya.

Mika was the first one in this life to get Yu to open his heart, to make him accept his fate and push him to make the best of it. Yu was just a traumatized child that almost got killed by his own parents yet Mika made him feel like he belonged somewhere, he showed him that family wasn’t always meant to be bound with blood.

When Yu lost Mika it was like he lost all hopes, for the longest time Yu was suicidal, already from young age and this loss just made him feel so much worse. Yes the loss of his whole new family, including Akane and the kids was bad for him, but deep down what truly broke them was the loss of one another.

Years later they reunited, Mika like Yu both changed deeply because of their own experiences and yet their relationship stayed unchanged. Just the dynamic between them switched, Yu was now the one to convince Mika that he could trust his new family (Glenn and his own squad).

One day my mom told me « if when you reunite with a long lost friend and it feels like not even a day has passed, then it’s real friendship » and it’s been proven to me that this is true, Mikayu being yet another exemple of this.

As a vampire Mika doesn’t feel much anymore, it’s said loud and clear that turning into a vampire takes away from you any vulnerability, any love or lust. Yet Mika feels so vividly for Yu, it runs so much deeper than his own nature. His loyalty towards him is beyond any words could ever describe.

And it’s also so damn obvious how Mika is just so grumpy with anyone but smiles whenever Yu is around. He didn’t smile for anyone else than him throughout the manga, Yu is his literal everything, he is the only one that brings him peace and joy.

Now we skip forward a bit, Yu and Mika are in a deadly situation and against everything Mika dies. First let’s get the obvious out of the way, his last words were « Yu, I love you. ». I mean. There’s nothing more straightforward than that.

But then, when a vampire dies he becomes a demon, so of course Yu had to take him as his cursed weapon. So that’s exactly what he did, after so much struggle that I will pass here he finally got to talk with Mika and have a contract with him.

But the thing is when a vampire dies and becomes a demon he loses all his memories from his previous life, so Mika didn’t remember Yu at all. Yet, despite everything their bound didn’t die, quite the contrary. Even before they did the contract, so before Mika had access to Yu’s memories, there was still something inside him that screamed « that guy is important to me », even if he didn’t understand where it came from.

All the memories Mika had of Yu after that was again : from Yu’s own memories.

And what Mika saw broke him, the desire to die was so overwhelming even in his demon form he found himself speechless and hurt. He didn’t remember Yu but he knew that he was important to him more than he could ever tell. And he didn’t only see their memories together, he saw Yu’s whole life, the moment with his parents, the years they spent apart, Yu and Glenn’s relationship and his new family, he saw everything.

He swore his loyalty to him yet again, ready to do anything for him and face the end of the world hand in hand with him. And of course, even when he lost his memories Yu never once doubted him and that he would still follow him.

Now. I’ve been talking a lot about Mika’s love for Yu but what about the other way around ? Moving forward in the story again Glenn revealed something to Yu, his squad and Mika that left a dilemma hanging in the air. Yu had to chose between humanity and Mika. And what did he do ? He chose Mika, betraying not only Glenn, the man that save him physically and psychologically and that he respected the most in the world, not only his squad with who he shared ups and downs like a family but humanity itself for the survival of Mika.

If this doesn’t speak volumes to you I don’t know what will. Yu sacrificed EVERYTHING down to his own survival just to spend one more day with Mika. Now not only vampires, demons and angels were against him, but humanity too all for the sake of one man.

Both of them constantly put their whole life and universe on the line for the other and they always do it in a heartbeat, like any other decision would just be unthinkable.

They had so many discussions that made clear how deeply their feelings for one another go, no matter if you interpret it as brotherly or romantic love. They confessed to each other so many times how they can’t live without the other, how life is meaningless if the other isn’t around. How there’s not even a point in trying to live if it isn’t to face tomorrow together and how each other’s happiness is more important than anything else in the world.

Both of them held on solely for the other, both of them are still breathing and living their truth thanks to nothing else than one another.

Their love is so fucking beautiful and pure, it stayed untouched through generations and generations of them.

Mikayu is an amazing ship and anyone would be a fool to not read Seraoh of the end just to witness such utter and raw love.

[tarjapearce]

Grandma's Visit.

Warnings: Drama, mild angst, Strained Relationships. Comfort towards the end. No proofread

Summary: Conchata wants to meet Benji.

A/N: There might not be updates, but have this little piece as an offer :')

Hey

Gabriel's leg bounced as the main door was closed, a bit of a slam on it. His hands immediately fetched his phone.

Migue

Busy right now.

Drop that shit and listen

?? ¿Qué pasó?  (What's wrong?)

Mamá va para allá, cabrón.

The fuck you mean she's on her way? Did you tell her where do I live?

Miguel, it's mom we're talking about.

The eldest O'Hara sighed and raked a hand over his hair. He was definitely not prepared for what laid ahead.

She wants to meet Benjamin.

Miguel's body tensed as his muscles flexed so tightly, one would think he'd break. And it wasn't far from the truth.

Conchata. Or Connie for her friends, was the ever annoying stone on his shoes. Miguel had refused to have her in his wedding. Not out of spite, rather for the  notion he had of his beloved progenitor. He knew that trouble followed her everywhere and if it wasn't following her like an overly attached stalker, is cause she was the problem itself.

Conchata was anything but easy to be around. And things had gone even more acrid after the wedding. Miguel never told you about the fourty five minute call she made him just to say how much of a bad son he was for not inviting her over.

But Miguel knew better, if he'd had her, she'd either complain about everything, ruining the mood for everyone. Or she'd start making snide comments on you and he'd get pissed, some drama would ensue causing an even bigger and jagged rift between them and his wedding would be ruined.

"Hey"

Your gentle and soft touch grounded him, anchored his mind back to his body, as his attention snapped back at you.

"You ok?"

His eyes felt tired and heavy. Unable to meet your gaze completely.

"I'll be."

You cradled him in your arms and kissed the top of his forehead. The touch alone melted him. His own arms embracing your shorter form, that somehow did the perfect work of comforting him and ease his thoughts. But when it came to his mother, little good things came out from it.

"My... eh-" He cleared his throat, "My mother is coming for a visit"

Oh...

"What she could possibly want after so many years?"

"Meet Benjamin."

Even though his words seemed simple, the clenching of his fists until his knuckles turned white, only dictated it was far from being that. Miguel didn't fear his mother, but feared and hated the words that could possibly escape her mouth when things weren't her way.

His wellbeing would be the sacrifice for the visit, cause he'd do anything possible to avoid you or his children get hurt.

"I swear, if she says or does something stupid-"

"Mi reina, let me handle her, ok?"

Your lips pursed and your brows deepened in a soft furrow.

"I won't hesitate-"

"I know. But please. Just, let me, ok?"

Both of you knew that things weren't going to be easy, his distress was obvious, he knew you'd step in if necessary, but he had to face her, it was more like a closure for him than anything. His baby boy wouldn't suffer the dooming and cursing words she gave him so many years ago. Words he learned to loathe as he grew up.

"Alright."

----

Maybe Gabriel's heads up was a false alarm, because nearly a week had gone by. A week of pent up stress and anxiety from both sides. And you could tell from Miguel's demeanor changing.

Even though being loving and a great father remained on the top list, you knew better than that. He'd been found asleep in his office after dinner, or would shut out himself for some little minutes. You'd give him space, and when he needed you, he'd always know where to find you.

He didn't even required to say 'I need you' cause you knew. His body language over the years had been a great subject of study, specially when it came to anxiety and other negatives that always switched on whenever his mother popped up in a conversation, or when something didn't sit right in his gut.

He'd pace, pick at the skin around his nails hard enough to draw blood, chew at the insides of his cheek, drink alot of more coffee to keep himself awake, grumpier than usual, irritated, short replies for everything outside his beloved family.

With you he'd be clingier than usual, he'd spoil Gabi over to avoid thinking too much. He'd pour himself into being that amazing and loving parent he never had, but at night, he'd just hold you until he fell asleep. He'd clutch onto you so tightly that sometimes you'd have little bruises, barely visible ones, in the places he'd hold.

Your comfort skills poured into his preferred love language. Physical touch. You'd play with his hair until he fell asleep, a little purr coming from him before giving into sleep, you'd caress his back in soothing circles, letting the steady beating of your heart lull him to calm.

You'd kiss his face, showering him in affection, as if with every kiss a bit of his worries would go away.

The knock on the main door however interrupted his train of thoughts. You had gone to the supermarket to get some stuff you had forgotten for dinner. Relief washing over him as you now we're home, or so he innocently had thought. All air was caught in his throat upon seeing none other than Conchata on the front door.

Even for her age, Conchata had some beauty reserved. Her skin tone same as Miguel's, soft curls that lingered above her shoulders, deep brown eyes that if one looked close enough, would see the deep red in them. Tall and seizing him with a look he also learned to master.

A scowl disguised as a smile.

"Miguel. "

"Mamá."

A too common and long pleasantries shared between the both.

She hasn't aged much.

Miguel's mind chanted.

"You're gonna let me in to meet my grandson, or what?"

A bushy brow of his quirked, blasé and bored, but he stepped aside. His whole frame had curbed her for long enough.

Here we go

Her scrutinizing gaze was unstoppable against the nakedness of his home. Her eyes raked in every little detail out of place, loading her verbal ammo with it.

"Where is the baby?"

"Asleep."

Monotone and monosyllabic answers that matched his expression was all she could pry from him. It was ridiculous the amount of pictures you seemed to have about Gabriella. She saw her when she was two, then six. Staying in Miguel’s life wasn't something she actually liked to partake on. Too busy with her own demons and new boyfriends to care.

Why would she? He was already a grown ass man.

A man that refused to have her at his own wedding. A past resentment that has lasted over the years and her own mind had been feeding the fester inside her heart. It didn't help you had one of the wedding pictures scattered around the living room.

The few proofs she  needed to see, to know she wasn't welcome, but knowing her son had his own now, was another excuse to see what kind of man and father Miguel had turned out to be.

His arms crossed on his chest as she sat down in one of the seats in the couch.

"Come."

"I'm fine here, thanks."

"I'm trying to be civil. The least you can do is obey your mother for once."

"Why you came?"

"I told you. I need to see my grandson."

"Whatever for?"

Her eyes hardened at his words, but a sigh escaped her lips.

"God, you're so like your father. Always mistrusting people."

"You need to leave."

Hearing her say such curse, made his heart beat even faster. Hands clenched tightly at his sides. Eyes away from her, like if the mere sight of her brought back so many unpleasantness he had fought hard to work them through.

"I won't leave until your... woman shows up and throws me away."

"She will."

"Of course she will. You're not man enough. Just look at this place. A mess."

"And?"

Miguel knew that paying and baiting into her games, would only hinder so. many years of progress he had done on his own. But would also mean to give her the attention she desperately seeked, even if it meant to do it the wrong way.

"What do you mean, and?! What does she does around all day?" Conchata huffed, " In my times the wife was the one that kept everything in check. I've seen nothing but a mess so far."

"Sorry for that."

Your tired and irked voice echoed from the kitchen's door. Miguel gave you a little smirk.

"Have been busy being a real mother this whole time. Miguel, mi amor can you defrost some vegetables, please?"

"Sure do. Found everything?"

You both were purposely ignoring her. A silent yet powerful statement.

You have no power here.

Conchata's eyes set like stone into you. How dared a tiny flea like yourself to speak to her in such way?. And even worse, how could his son be lenient in allowing you to be disrespectful towards her?

You had entered quietly, the heavy and draining aura could be felt even from outside. You had told Gabi to wait outside and rearrange the groceries in the meantime.

" Oh, I didn't know you had returned."

Your name rolling off her tongue felt wrong.

" It's my house too."

"Ah, of course. You didn't do a pre-nup. Te va a dejar en la calle, Miguel." (She'll leave you bare)

Conchata's gaze never left you, it only turned even more intense as her pupils followed you every step.

"I came here to meet my grandson. Where is Gabriella? "

Said precious child helped you to get the bags from your car, while Conchata opened her arms for Gabi to cuddle her. But everything that came out was her hiding behind you, while looking between you and her, as if asking permission.

"Do you want to greet grandma, baby?"

Gabi only recoiled back, hiding further from you.

"Guess not."

You shrugged and instructed Gabi to go to her room, your eldest baby ignored her grandma.

"Muy chistosa tu mujer, enseñándole a mis nietos a irrespetarme ." (Your woman is so funny by teaching my grandkids to disrespect me.)

Miguel had to roll his eyes and stare at her boringly as he pulled out the vegetables and put them to thaw while you clenched your jaw by the sudden resented babbling that came from your mother in law.

"Where is Benjamin? I came here to see him. And I'm sure you'd love to have me here again."

"He'll be up in a minute. Would you like a a glass of water?"

Miguel offered but Conchata was already set in making you as uncomfortable as possible. And when Benjamin was brought in, rubbing his sleepy and baby face, looking for you, Conchata stood and took Benji from Miguel's arms. Holding him with such disingenuous affection it made Benji to reach for Miguel instantly.

You tensed, and so did Benjamin as Conchata admired him. If it wasn't for the skin tone matching Miguel’s, one would think that Benjamin wasn't his. Benjamin had your curls. And not Miguel's soft waves. Benjamin was the splitting image of you with a bit of Miguel's DNA painted in a few selected places. Like his eyes and height.

"I'm actually surprised you managed to pop out his children. Miguel is... big. Got it from his father."

"Didn't care much about that, ma'am."

"No se parece en nada a ti, Miguel. ¿Estás seguro que es tu hijo?" (He doesn't look like you. Are you sure he's your son?)

You didn't know what infuriated you more. The fact that she hinted that Benjamin wasn't his, a shallow and not so subtle hint at Miguel's past, or the pleased smirk her mouth turned into after spilling out the venom and seeing Miguel's discomfit grow.

Some people couldn't be helped. And Conchata truly couldn't help but love hurting her son. But you weren't having it. Not when Miguel's eyes turned away from her, not in hurt but in such anger that even you knew things wouldn't end up good for neither. And still, he regarded her with uninterested eyes.

His lack of engagement at her taunts, made her even more lashing. Like a little child that refused to have her whims met.

Even worse when Benjamin started to fuss and reach for him with a nervous cry. Even he felt odd and icky around her. You took Benjamin from her, cooing and soothing him, but he wanted Miguel. Who gladly took his precious baby, away from Connie. Inspecting him for any damage to finally kiss the top of his forehead, reassuringly.

You're safe.

"Si ya terminó de incomodarnos, creo que se puede ir, señora." (If you're done making us uncomfortable, you may go, ma'am.)

Her eyes widened at your spanish. It was clear that you had understood everything she had said, but were wise enough to not lose your temper, yet you fought back.

"Remind me to never visit you again, please."

"As if you ever do that. And no, it's not an invitation."

"Escúchame bien, chamaco ingrato-" (Listen to me you ungrateful brat)

"Ma'am."

You weren't one for yelling, but your voice was firm enough to have three pair of eyes set on you, Benjamin's fussing stopped. Conchata's lips turned into a scowl at your words.

"Thanks for your visit."

"You know, you could've settled for something better-"

"Así estoy bien, gracias. Now, if you excuse us, We've got dinner to make. The door is right there." (Im just fine. Thanks)

She left with a slam that had Benjamin cry out of the jumpscare.

Miguel hushed and rubbed his baby's back in little circles to keep him calm before giving his pacifier.

" You ok? "

Your hand squeezed Miguel's for a moment while he kissed your temple gratefully.

" Yeah. She's gone. That's why exactly I didn't invite her to the wedding or meeting you."

"It's alright. God... she's-"

"Annoying. I know. Sorry you had to hear all that."

"Nah. I'm glad you taught me cause, damn... Her face upon hearing me speaking it, was priceless. And just for you to know, I was about to explain how we almost made Benji on the car."

Miguel snorted and nodded, knowing you would. You had each other's back and that wasn't up for discussion.

" Te amo."

You mumbled in his ear before stealing a kiss from his lips.

" También te amo."

[grassyhorizon45]

Could you do a fic where y/n has did, but it doubting themselves and convincing themselves they don't have it? Or just more fics with did. I love reading them but I can't find very many

ok.. so this rotted my brain a little and ended up becoming maybe quite long :D srry in advanced for all the DID terms and such :3 pt 2 will come soon I promise.

Help.

part 1 || part 2 || part 3 (soon) Marauders x Y/n but she realises something a little different about herself and the insecurity starts to build.

Warnings: A small bit of yelling, mostly fluff...and a few big words :D

Words: 718

It was subtle at first…

“H-Huh? What do you mean potion class was yesterday?”

“How did I end up here again?”

Then the voices, occasional laughs no one else could hear—

“Siri, I'm h-hearing things again…”

Remus heard from across the room. “Again bunny?”  “That's not good, maybe we should talk to a professor about it?” Sirius suggested.

Y/n refused…… refused to alert the professors of her anomaly, refused to admit it was hindering her ability to function—

Refused to admit it bothered her a lot.

“I told you about the party three times already… What do you mean ‘I never mentioned anything about a party’??!”  James put a hand on Sirius's shoulder at the sight of Y/n tensing up. “Calm down Pads, there's no need to yell. 

Sirius took a deep breath, “I just… d-don't understand, love.” 

……I don't understand either. 

* * *

“I think I found an answer,” Remus said when they were hanging out in the boys’ room one day. 

“An answer?” asked James.  “To Y/n’s sudden… forgetfulness.”

“And the voices?” Y/n couldn't stop herself from blurting.  Remus smiled to himself proudly, “And the voices, bunny.” 

“You found the cause, Moons?” Sirius walked over to the boy whose nose was deep into his book, ruffling Remus’ light brown hair. 

“It's called Dissociative Identity Disorder…” 

“Disso- Wh-What?” Y/n couldn't catch the word. 

“A character in this book has it… He's very detached sometimes and he tends to forget events he and his friends witnessed; so kind of like you, bunny.” 

“D-Detached? D-Do I-?” James nodded at Y/n’s question. “Sometimes, baby.” 

“He talks to himself occasionally too,” Remus added about the character’s description. “The protagonist thinks it's schizophrenia, but the narrator says it's cause of the voices in his head–” 

“Imma stop you there, Moony,” Sirius butt-in as he saw the slight panic growing in Y/n's eyes.  “For one, how do we know if this ‘identity disorder’ thing isn’t something the author made up, and two, if our bunny actually has it. Additionally if so, what do we do about it?”

Sirius made a valid point, yet all Y/n's mind could cling on to was how accurate Remy’s fictional character resembled the things she was experiencing. 

“Baby, you okay?” James put a steady hand around her waist. 

Y/n blinked a few times, bringing herself back to the present. 

“Y-Yeah, I'm good,” she assured her three worried looking boyfriends. “C-Can you write the d-disorder down for me Remy? I think I'll hit the library.” 

“Why don't we pay the library a visit together? I'm down to crack this case,” said Sirius, eager to get started. 

“Sirius Orion Black wanting to visit the library?” James gasped sarcastically. “Never heard of it,” beamed Remus. 

Y/n giggled, “Okay, okay. You guys can come too.” 

* * *

Digging deeper into this so-called ‘Dissociative Identity Disorder’, there were subdiagnoses like OSDD: Other Specified Dissociative Disorder or just amnesia itself could be a possibility. 

Y/n's boyfriends all had their heads wrapped around learning things like multiple personalities, dissociative amnesia, headspace theory, and even causes of DID. 

“I d-don't even have ‘alters’......"

"Guys, it's not so important, we can just let it slide you know…” Y/n mumbled, hating the silence of endless research. 

“Plus Jamie, you have a match against Hufflepuff tomorrow… Shouldn't you practice?” 

“You're right,” James remembered. “I do have a match…” 

Remus shrugged, “Go ahead Prongs, we don't mind.” 

James said a quick thanks before hurrying off. Y/n turned to look at Sirius. The black haired was sprawled on the library table, snoring softly. 

Was never a bookworm that man, unlike Remus. 

“Rem, I think we should leave it,” Y/n said to him as he asked yet another ‘are you experiencing this’ question. 

“We just wanna help you figure this out bunny…” 

“I know… But it's not really a big deal and it's probably just me being forgetful and a touch of sleep deprivation anyways. Look, even Siri’s fast asleep… At least take a break, love?” 

“Alright.” 

It wasn't that Y/n didn't trust her significant others, nor was it really because she was tired. All she wanted was to shut off all possibilities that she could actually be mentally unstable, to make sure she wasn't being a walking ‘waste of time’.

Yet...

She couldn't shake the bugging thought that this whole thing was somehow a facade......

A trick her mind had orchestrated for attention...

...what?

[wildernessuntothemselves]

Devil in Me (teaser)

A/N: basically oc is like the queen of angels and gyu is the prince of darkness but with a twist. oc is the one controlling gyu. gyu is also slightly yanderish in this. i'm thinking of adding more parts to this as i have a couple other ideas in mind.

warnings: devil!gyu, angel!oc, mean dom!oc, cunnilingus, slapping, frotting, cumming in pants

_______________________

“I’m just saying you’re not doing a very good job, and the big guy can see it too. Soon, he’ll have someone come to replace you and you’ll be stripped of your powers. And when he does, maybe he and I can make a deal–I tell my demons to back off a little bit and he gives you to me as a gift. I could use a little sex toy–”

You don’t let him finish his filth, slapping him right across the face. He stops immediately, staring at you wide eyed and breathing heavily. As soon as he gathers enough brain power to open his mouth to talk back again, you slap him a second time, finally shutting him up and showing him you’re done with his bravado. 

He surges forward, trying to catch your lips with his but your hand wraps itself around his neck and pushes him down. He knows what you want and he eagerly gets on his knees for you.  

“I don't want to hear another word out of your filthy mouth.” You snarl, pushing your index and middle finger inside his mouth. “You’re a disgusting, wicked thing. He would never give me to you. I am worth more than you and all your minions combined.”

He makes a choked sound that resembles the words “I know” but you push your fingers further, choking him and shutting him up. 

“You know nothing.” You hiss, taking your fingers out of his mouth, saliva dribbling out onto his chin. “The only toy here is you. So shut up and make yourself useful.” 

You walk towards your chair and order him to follow. He crawls towards you just like he's been trained to. You push your white dress up and spread your legs, exposing yourself to him but he knows not to dive in before being given the command. 

You make him wait a bit just to torture him. You make him wait until he starts whimpering and squirming, looking up at you with eyes that betray his angel origins before you finally give him the go ahead. 

He dives right in, starved. If you didn’t know any better you'd think he's an incubus that survives on your arousal. But he doesn’t even have that grace to spare his ego. He is fully in control of his actions and he chooses to be on his knees for you. 

You throw your head back and stare at the ceiling as he uses his mouth and tongue to try to get your attention. You know he hates when you’re not looking at him. He hates when you treat him like he’s so far beneath you even if he consciously put himself there.

You feel him whine against you, the sound accentuating the touch of his tongue as it laps up your arousal and flicks over your little sensitive nub, making your toes curl and your vision to go spotty. He’s so good at this. After all, he had plenty of practice, unlike you who only ever had him. So it isn’t hard for him to rip an orgasm out of you so quickly. This just makes you arch your back and throw your head back further, your eyes scrunching close as the waves of pleasure dull the edges of your anger. 

But it’s not entirely gone, and as he whines again for you to look at him, you finally do, growling, “What?” 

“Did that feel good?” He mumbles, eyes shiny as he stares up at you, looking for your approval. You groan, pushing his face back down and starting to grind your hips against his mouth. He mewls pathetically but obediently sticks his tongue out so you can use him. He still continues to whine but doesn’t once try to pull away, staying there until you’ve had your fill of him. 

It is moments like this where you feel the real danger of his temptation–his pretty eyes, his pathetic whimpers, his need for you… maybe this whole thing is just a massive scheme to corrupt you and drag you down to his realm. He knows he can’t intimidate or scare you into going the wrong way, but his puppy act sure is a lot more convincing. 

Twisting his hair in your fingers, you push him away, exhaustion settling deep into your bones now that the pleasure has left. “Get up. You're dismissed.”

He lets out a heartbroken whine and his fingers dip into your thighs. “Please.”

___________________

You can read the whole thing on patreon or kofi. though i'd prefer you go on patreon as not all my writings exclusive will be posted on kofi later on

[mochiajclayne]

Marineford Law is no question interesting to me because he pulled off a surprise, motherfucker moment and the timing was so good to the point that both pirates and marines least expected it.

Before I proceed with this self-indulgent lawlu meta post, I will go ahead and say that everything that happened between them in Marineford is a catalyst of establishing their connection later on in the future arcs. I am a firm believer that those feelings™️ started to truly bloom in Punk Hazard and went downhill in a good way in Dressrosa.

Long post ahead. Enjoy!

When I was rewatching Marineford arc, the part where Buggy was already carrying an unconscious and injured Luffy and Jimbei, their conversation sparked my interest.

Highlighting the bit where Buggy was confused about Law's verbal tic of using the suffix -ya in referring to anyone, overall doubting him, then asking for Law's name. Don't forget that Law is a little shit (affectionate) so he proceeded to ignore all of those questions to say this:

Interestingly enough, this part is tricky to translate. I found two translations that closely encapsulate what Law wanted to say here but mind you, and I will sound redundant about this with everything that has got to do with Trafalgar Law's speech patterns: he likes speaking in runarounds, purposely using terms with double meanings and connotations on them, and he's both reticent and cryptic. (I wouldn't say not to trust on his words but don't take them at face value.)

Law described his connection with Luffy as 悪縁 (akuen) which directly translates as evil destiny or connection.

Forgive me for a bit of sidetracking but the kanji used for akuen is the same with Robin's epithet which is "Demon Child" (akuma no ko). To further elaborate, 悪 (aku) means evil--both as intent and violating a moral code. It is also used to refer as the direct opposite of good.

Going back to 悪縁 (akuen), in true Law fashion, this word doesn't only mean evil destiny or connection. Depending on the context, it can also mean unfortunate love.

(It sounds tragic coming from him, isn't it? If your mind was blown after this part, no worries, I am too. This part gave me so much whiplash when I was researching about it.)

So, considering these two interpretations of 悪縁 (akuen), that begs the question, what is Law's connection with Luffy?

On surface-level, they are enemies as Law said so himself. They're rivals when it comes to One Piece. Their common ground, which is only known among people that Law trusts the most, is sharing the same secret name of D. However, I will take one step ahead and say that they both went through the same tragic fate of losing their loved ones, for being weak and powerless to protect them. They were both involved in circumstances where if they were capable enough, they could've saved the person they loved the most. Doomed by the narrative and subjected to trauma that breaks their heart and spirit should they be lesser men to handle such misery and grief. It is unfortunate, disastrous, and cursed to love fully knowing the fact that the other person could die like the ones before them but these two have the biggest heart.

Of course, Law will never say it directly. Thus, settling for 悪縁 (akuen).

It gets better. He did say 悪縁も縁 (akuen mo en) and 縁 (en) itself means fate or destiny (especially a mysterious force that binds two people together). Additionally, も (mo) is also a particle that is used for emphasis.

The implication, in turn, of what Law said to Buggy can be translated this way: Strawhat-ya and I (will) eventually be enemies, but an evil connection is (the futuristic possibility of Luffy becoming his enemy) is fate (that binds them).

Law made sure to emphasize that their "evil connection" is fate: specifically, that mysterious force brought them together and compelled him to be there, that he was meant to sail to Marineford, and help Luffy escape.

These two translations are the closest that I found to be accurate but it's still scratching the surface of what Law said:

This entire panel between Ivankov and Law makes it funnier because he clocked him IMMEDIATELY.

Ivankov asked if he's friends with Luffy to which he replied: no.

He also emphasized that that he doesn't have any obligation to help him but then went on to say this:

親切 (shinsetsu) means kind, generous, gentle, considerate. 不安 (fuan) refers to anxiety, uneasiness, worry, apprehension. These are surprisingly direct words but of course, Law had to go back and be cryptic again when he followed up with 理屈 (rikutsu), which could mean two things: theory, reason, logic or (unreasonable) argument, excuse.

I think this panel did a good job for translating it.

Law himself is providing Ivankov here the benefit of the doubt. To reiterate, Ivankov beats him to the punch which makes their entire interaction so funny.

Again, brilliant translation for directly calling out Law's bullshit. Lmao. Ivankov says 直感 (chokkan) here. It means intuition, instinct, hunch. Please take the next statement that I will say with a grain of salt but "instinctively moving your body" is usually associated with the context of being reckless to the point of directly exposing oneself to danger, consequences be damned, in order to protect someone.

Even Law himself acknowledged that he's not obligated to be there, so why?

Unfortunately, this is the elephant in the room that Law will never address. Several characters even made sure to point out that he helped Luffy two years ago and he purposely dodges that topic.

One thing I can guarantee is that Law never did it to get Luffy to agree for the alliance. Hell, he thought of the alliance after reuniting with Luffy! He adjusted his plans by then. Additionally, he never used the fact that he saved Luffy's life as his bargaining chip and leverage to get him on board the alliance.

Lastly, this is too much for saving a life on a whim, isn't it, Law?

[multifandomhaven]

A/N: Tooth-rotting fluff ahead. Idk what brought this on (and it's everything but edited), but I couldn't get it out of my head, so enjoy!

Maid of Honor!reader x Best Man!Simon Riley

The wedding had been beautiful - the sun shone brightly and the skies were a bright, cloudless blue. The gentle breeze that had ruffled the dress of the bride perfumed the air, the lingering smell of the flowers attached itself to everything in the vicinity.

Ava and Johnny were quietly married in the presence of their family and a select few friends. You had been among that group - having been Ava's best friend since you were both little girls. You played dolls together, braided each other's hair, held each other when you cried. It was only natural that you were chosen to be her maid of honor.

Johnny's best man had been his friend Simon. You hadn't met each other before the rehearsal dinner the night before and to say that you'd already formed a strong opinion would be putting it lightly.

You were balancing precariously on the edge of a tall ladder, draping tulle across the large chandelier in the middle of the room. Your tongue poked out at the corner as you tried to steady yourself. You reached out just a bit further when you suddenly feel yourself being jostled. Your brows furrow and you glare down at whoever it was that had run into you.

"Hey!" you bark, your fingers curled desperately around the slope of the light fixture above you. Your heart raced in your chest as you fought to steady your quick breathing. "What the hell is the matter with you?"

"What's the matter with me?" The man looked up and narrowed his gaze in on you, not looking amused. "You're not supposed to stand on the top cap of a ladder."

"And that gives you the right to knock into it?" you fire back, your cheeks flushed.

Slowly and discreetly you try to step down a wrung. Your foot slips and you find yourself free falling through the air. You yelp, your eyes closing on their on volition. The fall is short, stopping abruptly as you're caught mid-air. Strong arms are around your middle, the man you were just berating now holding you to his chest, your feet dangling off the floor.

Your chest rises and falls dramatically, your eyes sliding open to find the man still staring at you. The look of indifference was now gone, replaced with a slight smirk.

"You alright?" he asks, his voice lower now that you were closer to him.

You nod, swallowing the fear you were feeling. He allows you to slide down his front, keeping his gentle hold on you until your feet were firmly on the floor. You take a small step back away from him, crossing your arms over your chest to hide your embarrassment. "You know, you really should watch where you're going."

"And you should be more careful."

The flash of a the camera broke you from your thoughts. You were smiling for the photographer, your hand on Simon's chest as he posed beside of you. You could feel him staring down at you, but you paid it no attention. You quickly wrapped up the pictures and then went to find your seat, sighing as you saw the nameplate beside your own.

"Can't escape you, can I?" Simon's voice crooned in your ear.

You plop down into your seat and drain your glass of wine. "What are you, a mind reader?"

Simon chuckles lightly and sinks into his seat. If the way his fingers pulled at the collar of his shirt was any indication, he was just as uncomfortable in his tie as he looked. You arch a brow at his incessant pawing. "You gonna fight your tie all night or take it off?"

He gives you a small glance, but says nothing. You huff and reach over, your fingers picking apart the knot in his tie, undoing it with ease. You fold it up and lay it on the table by his plate.

You eat in silence, listening to the soft music that played in the background. It wasn't long before the bride and groom had their first dance. You can't fight the cheek-aching smile that curls your lips as you see them move about the room. It wasn't smooth, by any means, neither of them had any dancing experience, but it was so very in tune with the couple.

You swallow back a wave of tears as you see your best friend lean up and place a sweet kiss on her new husband's lips. You take a quick picture with your phone, knowing how she'll treasure that moment in the years to come, and then wipe at your eyes with your napkin. You chance a glance at Simon and see him watching you.

"What?" you ask him quietly.

He shakes his head, the movement so small you barely noticed it. "I didn't say anything."

"You're looking at me funny," you accuse him softly. "You gonna make fun of me for crying?"

"Course not," he defends himself with a small shrug. "It's just... this is the first time I've ever seen you not actively wanting to punch someone."

You can't stop the snort of laughter that follows. You try to hide your grin behind your napkin, but you know you've been caught by the look on his face. He looks smug, like he'd accomplished something. You relent, your shoulders relaxing a bit. "Touché."

It's quiet for a moment before Simon speaks again. "You know, I don't go to many weddings-"

"Obviously," you add, your lips still twitching upwards.

Simon narrows his eyes again, "-but I do know you're supposed to dance. Humor me?"

You're shocked, but you nod and take his hand, following him to the dance floor. You fall into a simple rhythm, a slight sway around the floor. Simon is gentle with you, his hands firm, but soft in his hold. He clears his throat and says, "You clean up nice."

"I'll take that as a compliment," you say, scrunching your nose at him.

Simon's cheek puff as he grins. "You should. It's the best I can do."

A laugh escapes you again, the volume of it drawing a few confused looks your way. You notice Ava and Johnny looking at you, both of them wearing face splitting grins. Your eyes widen and the hand you had on Simon's shoulder quickly covers your mouth. You shrink slightly, almost as if you're trying to hide behind his large frame, your cheeks burning.

"Why're you hidin'?" Simon laughs, his hand on your back firmer, guiding you back to your natural height. "Come back up here."

You straighten up, your eyes on Ava's across the room once more. She sends you a wink and a thumbs up. You shake your head and look back up at Simon, the fairy lights twinkling in your eyes. "Ava and Johnny seem to have their hearts set on something happening between us, don't they?"

Simon glances over at them, too, and Johnny wags his brows at him. Simon huffs a laugh and rolls his eyes. "Johnny has been talkin' about it for months."

The liquid courage from the wine you'd had during the dinner burned hot in your veins. You rake your eyes back up to his. He was handsome - tall, well built, the tattoos you saw peeking out from beneath his sleeve - you'd be lying if you said he wasn't your type, even if you did get off to a bad start. "Well... we can't disappoint them on their wedding night, can we?"

Simon's eyes widen, and it's the biggest reaction you'd gotten out of him the entire night. His tongue darts out and wets his lips before he speaks. "No, I don't believe we can."

You let your hand fall from his shoulder, running down his arm to grip his hand. You curl your fingers around his and guide him along with you, out the doors of the reception hall of the hotel and toward the elevators. Your footsteps were quick, your heart pounding in your ears. "We're good friends."

Simon follows behind you with a nod, his eyes never leaving you. "The best."

[lostwords-found]

Oh god. Okay. SO. The Protocol red string board is going places and I am chewing drywall.

Note: I've been working on this post for a few days and nothing in here involves episode 27--I don't talk about episodes before they're out for everyone, so no worries about patreon spoilers.

Quick recap of some suspicions about Protocolverse I've written about previously:

1. I think this universe runs on a kind of balance of good & bad luck (or suffering and happiness), and that it's possible--under certain circumstances--to pawn the bad stuff off on other people and keep the good that arises to balance it out. I suspect a big piece of Protocol's overarching plot is going to be about the different ways people go about trying to come out ahead in that bargain.

2. I think some alchemists figured out how to attach bad luck and/or other similarly abstract ills into physical form.

3. I think they were trying to use this to cast out bad luck to other worlds (including that of Archives) and get good luck back. I think this is how the Fears got to Archives in the first place.

4. I think the books and coin in the tomb from MAG 23 got there this way, probably with the involvement of Protocolverse Albertus Magnus. The year on the coin -- 1279 -- is the year before Albertus Magnus died.

We'll come back to that stuff in a bit.

There's an apparently minor detail that was nagging at me recently: in TMAGP 22 Hans Berger specifically mentions having switched to silver wires in his experiments, and this change enabling his breakthroughs. It's through these silver wires, implanted directly into Herr Schmidt's brain, that he later receives the desperate telegraph signals that appear to be from a previously unheard part of Schmidt's brain.

By itself, that wouldn't ping any alarms. Silver wires are in fact what Berger used in real life; silver's highly conductive so if you're trying to read electrical impulses from the brain, probably a good choice of material. But the writing is very deliberate about mentioning them, and coming only three episodes after another historical letter about a scientist also working with silver -- Newton's tree in TMAGP 19 was a fantastical variant of a Tree of Diana, dendritic silver -- Berger's wires start feeling like maybe they're not just there for accuracy.

If, as it appears from Newton's work, consuming silver in certain forms can cause a new kind of consciousness to arise--and also, uh, turn you into a tree--what might implanting silver wires in a human brain do? Is the silver contacting or awakening something that was already there, or is it putting something there? Was that desperate OUT OUT OUT message really from half of Herr Schmidt's mind--or from something in the wire itself that was trying to get out?

That would be weird though. I mean--what, Protocolverse silver's inherently evil or something? But then I got back to thinking about alchemists trying to transmute things into precious metals. Gold's the one we mostly think of, but silver was also of interest. Which in real life is where you got stuff like the tree of Diana--alchemists thought that was a precursor to the philosopher's stone.

So... then I start thinking, if I was right in my other post that alchemists were figuring out how to put evil / misfortune / suffering into a physical form that could be used to transfer it somewhere else, what if silver was involved in that? What if they were either turning misfortune into silver, or trapping it in silver that already existed?

What if they did that, meaning to send it away, and some of that silver made its way into use?

Then I started looking some stuff up.

Did you know silver used to be mined in the Black Forest, in Germany? One mine there had a name meaning "Blessing of God." That mine dates back to the 1200s--Albertus Magnus's lifetime.

Did you know that starting in the 1600s, the G strings on high quality violins were typically wrapped in silver wire?

Do you know why movies are called the silver screen? In the 1920s, literal silver was used to make cinema screens. This fell out of favor as other cheaper designs were worked out, BUT in the 2000s silver has come back into use a bit because it works well for 3D movies. I would not be surprised at all if the screen that Tom went to see Voyeur on had silver in it.

Did you know that in the early 90s there was a specific plant in the UK that manufactured CDs covered with a layer of silver? This later turned out to cause some problems as the silver reacted with sulfur (oh hai, another alchemically significant substance!) and slowly degraded the discs. In real life these CDs were manufactured up through 1993. Per TMAGP 10, Mr Bonzo made his debut in '96 (the interview is from 2021 and is the 25th anniversary of Mr Bonzo's first appearance). The two times Mr Bonzo has appeared in person he's been summoned by playing a CD of his theme song. I wonder where and when those CDs were manufactured...

Did you notice the caterer Lady Mowbray hired in TMAGP 15 mentions that his company did silver service events? Betcha that particular feast was served on literal silver platters.

...I'm starting to think it's a really good thing ink5oul didn't end up tattooing Gwen with that silver spoon.

Okay. This all seems like there's maybe a theme here, but let's take a step back. Some materials have just been used for a lot of things throughout history; it could be coincidence. IF the above is actually on the mark--IF these were all intentional majorly-plot-relevant inclusions of Things Wot Involve Silver--where else would we expect to see this cropping up in the story? Because the topic of silver has barely been raised directly at all; I'm extrapolating wildly here, mostly on the basis of a couple episodes.

Well, here's a thought: silver was used in everyday currency for a long, long time. If there was a bunch of Evil Silver floating around surely someone would have stuck it into some money at some point. "Ill fortune" in the most literal possible sense, or whole new meaning to the phrase "bad penny" -- there are various bad jokes there that more or less write themselves. Though whoever was doing this would have had to to mark the bad money somehow so that they could avoid it...

Hey, um, remember how the OIAR's offices are in the building that housed the Royal Mint for like 150 years?

Actually, while we're on that subject, here's a funny little tidbit: Before it moved to Royal Mint Court, the Royal Mint was in the Tower of London for several centuries--its first home after being centralized. Wanna guess what year the Royal Mint was established in the Tower of London? Go on. Guess.

1279.

The same. Fucking. Year. As was on that coin waaaaaay back in MAG 23. Which was a thing I had noticed a while back when looking at the Germany eps, but I hadn't been considering a "what if some metals can be Bad" angle at that point and had just written it off as an odd coincidence.

Which I mean, it's probably still just a weird coincidence, I'm building this entire elaborate framework out of assumptions on top of assumptions on top of -- hang the fuck on, let me look something up real quick, I've gotta be misremembering--

I'm not misremembering! Isaac Newton was the Master of the Royal Mint for the last 30 years of his life.

Cool. Okay. So that's--hm. I think I'm genuinely starting to convince myself none of this is a coincidence.

Then I start poking through Wikipedia, and you wanna know some other interesting things? One, Newton himself apparently saw his work in economics as a continuation of his alchemical work. And two, during his tenure at the Royal Mint, he put limits on how much gold people were allowed to exchange for silver, and this led to a silver shortage. Because apparently, when other countries imported goods to them, the British paid for those goods in silver coins. When they exported goods to other countries, though?

They would only take payment in gold.

And there it is--there's the exact outsourcing scheme I was looking for. Stick all your suffering and pain and misfortune into your money, use that money to pay other countries, and get only the good stuff back. That... sounds really believable for the British Empire, honestly.

So I really think I might have some decent guesses on the historical stuff at play here. That only goes just so far though, because these days, silver doesn't really get used in coinage much.

Know where it does get used? Circuits. Electronics.

Computers.

If I'm right, whatever machinery the Mint used to store the intangible evils of the world in physical coinage for exportation, I would guess the OIAR is now using to instill all of those evils into FR3-D1 instead. One all-containing artifact of misfortune.

What the endgame is there, what the government gets out of it, I'm still not 100% sure--but I can't help thinking about Jonah's line in MAG 160 that Jon is not the Archivist but the Archive. That he is the record of fear, the physical embodiment of it.

There's people wanting to outsource absolutely fucking everything to AI these days, I guess.

SO THAT'S BEEN MY WEEK this is what my brain does when I have to drive all the way across the US alone, apparently. How are you all?

[i4bellingham]

So I read “misleading” tic abt Jude and I LOVE IT!!! I have kind of a similar request with Jude. Soo I was thinking, Jude, y/n, and some of the guys are out clubbing or out in a bit or somewhere crowded and then a guy approaches y/n and tries to get her to come with him, like pulling on her and grabbing her. And then Jude and some of the guys come and stoops him and it’s almost like a fight and Jude gets really protective. Then someone films it and it’s ALL over the internet ( you can ignore this I might have just gotten carried away)

PROTECTIVE : jude bellingham x reader

cw: a guy being a fucking creep 🤢, protective!jude, literally jude in this fic will not take a piss from anybody, cussing, shoving resulting to a near fight, will take place after world cup where the guys are out in a club to party and celebrate before returning to their own clubs, also protective!england nt bcs jude is their baby, the creep being socked. switches in povs !! + not proofread !!

　

The nightclub was mellow but overflowing with a bunch of attendees.

It definitely wasn’t your every evening scene but it was a place you’d visit on occasion and by on occasion, it means being dragged and pestered by your friends to go with them some time every once or thrice a month.

But even then, you'd never once experienced something that threatened your occasional visits to the clubs. Normally finding friends amidst the rowdy crowd and entertaining drunk yet very amusing discourse with said people.

Your nightclub trips weren't a scary experience, until now.

“A pretty girl alone in a place like this?” The overbearing scent of bergamot filled your senses, nearly enough to make you feel suffocated by the scent alone that overpowered the entire smell of the nightclub itself.

It was due to the proximity of the unknown guy beside you and you confirmed that when you turned your head to the right and seeing an unfamiliar face; a guy in his late 20’s you presume, a dark haired male with a pale complexion and with a salacious grin staring you down.

Taking notice of a palm's worth of space between the both of you, you automatically scooted away from him with a nervous chuckle, sounding awfully lot like you're having a coughing fit before your drinks are being slid across the marble counter by the bartender who, also got an eye out for look-out.

“Oh. I’m actually here with my boyfriend and his friends.” You emphasized, hugging yours and Jude’s drinks near to your chest before tipping your head a bit as you slowly walked away. “Uh... yeah, bye-”

“Let me take your drinks to your boyfriend and his friends...” The unknown guy tried to take the glasses from you, not even minding one bit but it was near your clothed chest before you're stepping away from the guy, an uncomfortable frown on your face.

You glanced at the bartender, seeing him occupied with another customer's rather large batch of orders before sighing out loud, plastering your fake, friendly smile at him. “No thanks, I got it.”

Now without bidding him any farewell, you successfully walked away and only then did you began to chastise yourself for taking the drinks alone, especially when Jude made it perfectly clear that he could've gone with you.

But you didn't let him, not when he’s got a few fans to entertain himself alongside his mates. The other guys were there with you upon arrival as well but they gradually left your table not even an hour after you got there. You were also hesitant to ask one of the guys' girlfriends to go with you even though you knew that they wouldn’t mind coming with to get the drinks with you. You were simply hesitant to do those and hence you went alone.

And look at where you've landed now.

With a deep sigh, you continued walking the path to your table. You can already see Sasha's blonde hair up ahead and Marcus’ tall frame when an arm suddenly was wrapped around your shoulders, nearly making you drop the drinks on the ground.

“Hi again!” The unknown guy cheers beside you, almost shoving his face against yours before he's gripping at your shoulders. “Thought you might rather prefer some other company. A friend of mine just bought more drinks and I think you could come and join us for some fun-”

You push the guy off of you, scrambling to get away from his grip that the drinks you tried so hard to keep drenched the front of your dress.

“Please just leave me alone.” You place the glasses on a nearby vacant table, wiping away the liquid that soaked the material of your dress with your palm. “You’re really really making me uncomfortable so I would appreciate it if you just leave me alone, please.”

“But I'm already being the kind lad here! Offered to carry your drinks, asked if you wanted to join me and my friends at our table and yet you keep on being a brat and refusing my offers-”

“You also touched me without my permission, overstepped in my personal boundary and made me feel disturbed.” Tears pricked at your eyes, as you stepped away, a palm out to keep the guy from coming closer. “Please just leave me alone-”

“What’s happenin’ here?”

A familiar weight settled on your waist, wrapped nice and snug before you're being hauled against Jude's chest with a protective arm around you.

Jude tilts his head to look at you, worry crossing in his eyes noticing your lack of verbal response and your refusal to meet his gaze.

“Love? What's wrong? What happened?” He gently asks you.

You shook your head against his chest, muttering a few simple words that was enough for Jude to hear.

“Let’s just go back to the table, Jude please...”

Jude’s jaw visibly tightens before he's glaring at the unknown guy, guiding you back to the table with his arms still around you.

The two of you nearly made it to the table when a grip on your wrist pulled you back and making you let out a surprised shriek as the unfamiliar guy wrenched you harshly against his hold, the tight grip sending a throbbing pain through the entirety of your hand.

And not even a second later after that, you were free from the unknown guy’s clasp before Jude’s shoving him to a nearby table, alerting the other guys from your booth because of the fallen glasswares.

“Keep your hands off her you bloke.” Teeth grinding and jaw clenched, Jude balls the guy’s collar in his fists with a harsh glare. “If I see you lay a single, dirty finger on her again, you just mighta go home with a broken hand before this night ends.”

Pickford rushes over and wraps an arm across Jude’s chest, pulling him away from the stunned guy before Wilson and Saka steps in to help their mate haul your trashing boyfriend away.

Jack and Mason stood before the guy, glaring and tensed as they stare the man down before Sterling is guiding two bouncers on the scene with Jesse on tow.

On the other hand, Declan and Henderson are ushering you back to the seats, noticing Trent and Marcus on the booth with the other girls present for the evening, worry creasing their faces.

You glance to where Jude and the three other guys were just a while ago, seeing them nowhere near the spot. You roam your eyes around the area before Declan speaks up beside you with a comforting pat on the shoulder.

“Don’t worry about Jude, they took him outside to get some air. They’ll probably be back in a few minutes or so just until Jude cool downs.” He tells you and you silently nod your head, still looking over the last spot where you saw Pickford, Saka and Wilson calm your boyfriend from bashing the creep’s head on the table.

Trent leaves his spot in the booth, making you sit down beside his girlfriend Hannah who immediately asks if you're okay. It then probe the others into asking you the same question, with the exemption of Tolami and Lucia who simply offered you a glass of water and with an encouraging pat on the hand, refraining themselves from overwhelming you as they kept the questions to themselves.

Your answers to their questions were short and concise and it didn't take them long to realize that you would probably want your space after what happened. They simply shared looks of both worry and sympathy and with a few shorts hugs being offered to you, they simply sat in silence and waited for the others to return.

The waiting time didn't take long because after sitting down for 10 minutes, Jack, Mason, Raheem and Jesse are walking back to the booth. The four of them asked if you were alright, Jack going as far as joking about socking the guy in the parking lot after your group leaves to which not only did Sasha reprimanded him for, he was also smacked by the other guys for finding his suggestion too much despite feeling absolutely enraged by what happened.

Jordan, Saka, Wilson and Jude came back after 20 minutes, your boyfriend immediately crouching down in front of you and taking your hands in his before he’s got his forehead planted on your thighs, a shaky breath leaving his lips.

“You guys were out for long. What happened?” Jesse asked with a questioning brow raised.

Wilson who was seated on the opposite side of the seating arrangement grumbled something in response.

“The guy went to the parking lot after he was escorted out of the club, we were there, Jude saw him and tackled him on the ground after hearing the maggot say some things.” Wilson sighs but there is an amused smile on his lips. “Landed a rather lousy punch on the guy’s face when Jordan had his punching hand pinned back.”

“Should have brought him in when the wanker went out, no?” Sterling comments. “Let’s just hope this doesn't reach the internet.”

Marcus nods his head. “The PR team's most definitely gonna be pissed if that were to happen...”

“Well the nutter's the one who started it.” Trent piques with an eye-roll. “Would’ve socked him on the face the moment I saw him.”

Henderson shakes his head, ignoring the scoff from Trent as he shares his comment. “That’s why we didn’t let you leave the booth.”

“You’d jump on the poor nutter.” Mason chimes in, earning a fit of laughter from almost everyone.

As you tune down the conversation happening, your eyes landed on Jude's knuckles beside your thighs. They weren't busted open but they were bruised, discoloration already forming around the skin of the knuckles he used to punch the guy with.

You ran your fingers through his hair, leaning down to whisper against his ear as he continued being crouched down, head on your lap.

“Jude? Are you alright, love?”

Jude nods his head with a hum.

“Can you sit down beside me please?” You pat the empty space beside you. “You’re gonna get leg cramps if you remain crouching down there.”

Jude doesn't say anything else but he does comply, silently sitting down beside you with his head hanging down low.

You place a hand on his thigh, pursing your lips as you observe his slouched figure nearly draping over you.

“What’s wrong, hmm?”

He doesn't speak for a while, eyes following the circles being traces on his lap before he’s clasping your palm against his, grip not too tight but enough for you to feel the strength of his hold on you.

“Are you alright?” Jude asks, turning his head to look at you better. “I’m sorry I couldn't be there to help you earlier. I feel so angry and upset that you had to go through that. No one, not especially a woman should ever go through something as traumatizing as that and it happened to you.”

He heaves a deep breath, leaning his head against the tall cushioned back rest of the booth. “I felt so angry at myself when I saw you were almost crying when I got to you. Realized it must've been a little while when the scrub has been buggin’ you ’n I wasn’t there to keep most of it from happening.”

Jude purses his lips, muttering two words underneath his breath as if he was afraid for everyone, for you to hear the fragility and hurt in his voice.

“I’m sorry.”

Gently, you take Jude’s hand and raising his bruised knuckles to your lips, softly kissing the discolored spot.

“That wasn’t your fault Jude. It was something that we all didn’t expect to happen so please don’t take the blame for what happened.” You told him, watching as he knits his brows, closing his eyes. “Just like what you said, nobody should ever experience something like that and we only have those kind of people to blame. But thank you, for protecting me and for standing up for me the way you did. I would have never known what I’d do if you didn’t came by and helped me-”

“Of course I’d protect you. Girlfriend or not I will always protect you...”

Jude leans in and plants a kiss on your temple, pulling a hand away from your touch to wrap at your waist.

“I’d go mad if something happened to you.”

“Mhm and that’s why you socked the guy on the face right?”

Jude chuckles, kissing your cheeks and playfully biting at the skin. “Could've done a better job at punching him but my arm was restrained.”

You were about to open your mouth to respond with something when Jude’s phone rang, interrupting whatever comment you had to yourself before he’s fishing the device from his pockets, eyes rolling seeing the name in the caller id.

　

　　　　　　　　　　ㅡ

　　　　　　　Incoming call...

　　　　　　 　 PR manager

　　　　　　　　　　ㅡ

　

a/n: i am not entirely satisfied with the ending but will revise it whenever i can! also posting this because jude posted a selca on his ig story 😍

[icallhimjoey]

request: we have a panic attack and joe's there

MMM chefs kiss this is how to do a request, i fucking LOVE this, because, yes, we can have a panic attack and yes, joe can be there, but you know what ????? joe doesn't know how to fucking help at ALL (bcos useless clueless idiot) thanks for requesting! Wordcount: 2.1K

---

Heartbeats All Chaos

Joe had never seen an actual panic attack up close.

He’d heard of people having them, someone not making it to whatever was planned because they’d had a panic attack earlier and everyone would always frown and nod and be so very understanding.

Once at school, he’d heard a girl cry and then was later told she was having a panic attack. It had just looked like crying to him, but what did he know?

Well, he knew technically what they were, knew that people who had them felt like they were actively dying.

And he knew what being panicked felt like.

But when he got out of the shower and found you sat on the edge of bed, unresponsive to how he shook his hair like a dog when he walked past you, that was...

Unusual. To say the least.

His own smile turned into a frown, looking back at you over his shoulder as he opened the wardrobe.

“Hey,” 

You just stared ahead, chest heaving, nostrils flared.

“Hey are you all right?”

Just... nothing. 

You had a weird relationship with panic. You knew it liked you a bit too much, and when you were younger, you’d been forced to become acquainted with it. Had to learn the tell-tale signs of when it would try to grab hold of you. Had to learn how to prevent an attack, avoid whatever could potentially trigger it. Had to learn what to do when its long, cold arms still managed to wrap themselves around your ribcage where it would squeeze you tightly. 

You knew how to pull yourself through an attack.

You’d learnt breathing techniques.

You’d learnt how to mentally ground yourself.

You’d learnt where to take your mind and how to keep your focus there.

Joe walking past in just a towel wrapped around his hips, bending slightly towards you and shaking his head to get little droplets of water on you broke that focus.

You could feel pressure build in your chest as the ringing in your ears got louder. Joe’d asked you a question. You’d heard him fine. It just took a little longer to answer.

Joe took the silence to mean you were upset.

He pulled a T-shirt out of the wardrobe after stepping into a fresh pair of boxer briefs and let his mind wander, trying to figure out what he’d done wrong.

“Did I do something wrong? Did I, oh shit, did I forget– what day is it? I forgot something important, didn’t I?”

With every passing second, your lungs allowed you less and less oxygen and your peripheral vision got smaller and smaller. Shrunk away from the sides and made you feel like your balance was off.

You gasped for air.

“Hey, are you crying? I’m– I fucked up, didn’t I? What did I do?”

You held an arm out, eyes on the floor where you could see your feet touch the carpet, and you shook your head.

Mistake.

Instantly made you feel dizzy, and nausea introduced itself thickly in your throat.

“No, it’s,” you winced, because, yes you were crying. It was just that the crying was a side-effect of the uneasy sensation of fear that tried to swallow you whole. You knew there was no external reason for it, just something that tricked your body into activating its fight-or-flight response. Made your heart rate pick up until it felt like it was going to break your ribs and escape from your chest. Made your muscles tense up enough to have you shaking all over.

Scared.

You were really fucking scared.

You felt how Joe took hold of the hand you held out for him, and were quick to squeeze.

“Oh my– hey, calm down,”

“Panic,” you managed to squeeze from your throat, hiccuping and gasping through breaths.

What were the techniques?

Think of the techniques.

Breathe in through nose, out through mouth. Focus attention outside of your own body. Think of three things you can see. You can hear. You can smell. Sit and let the symptoms pass on their own. They will pass. This is uncomfortable but not life-threatening. Uncomfortable but not life-threatening. Uncomfortable but not–

Yea, nothing was working.

“Are you having a panic attack?”

You were just going to have to ride this one out.

And Joe was just... he was just useless.

He didn’t know what to do, and so he kind of just... stood there. Got a bit closer as he held the hand that you were currently digging your nails into.

Your eyes found him before they squeezed shut, and you felt how his other hand grabbed onto your bicep. Kneaded the muscles there, squeezed and moved his hand down a bit to squeeze once more.

“Yea, you’re having a panic attack. Right now. Jesus, you’re having a pani– what do I do? What do you– do you need–”

Joe panicked. Did exactly what you didn’t need him doing.

You were still on the up-climb, and everything got steadily worse. Muscles tightening. Vision narrowing still. Heart rate increasing still. You needed... you needed... a parent? Someone to take over, someone who you trusted would know what to do.

“Arms up,” Joe suddenly said, voice a little steadier than before, like he was glad he’d thought of something that would help, that would make breathing a little easier for you.

“Come on, up, over your head.”

He took hold of you by the elbows and pushed both your arms up, which, yes, you knew technically that really should’ve made breathing easier. But your muscles were tensed up, and it hurt your chest, and all your body wanted to do was to curl up into a ball so your face could hide and cry into your knees.

Joe had a hard time fighting your arms that were desperately pulling down, and said, “Slow breaths, slow deep breaths...” whilst trying to demonstrate.

It was of no use.

You were choking on gulps of air.

“Hey. Relax!” Joe made eye-contact, eyebrows raised, like getting a little stern would shock the system into relaxing.

“No,” you sobbed weakly, eyes squeezed firmly shut as you shook your head from side to side. Telling you to relax when you literally couldn’t was the exact opposite of helping.

“No?” Joe immediately went soft again as he let go of your arms, his own eyes wet now too. That same unsure tremor found his voice again as he kneeled in front of you and said, “What do you need? How do you– oh my God, you have to breathe, baby.”

You gestured around wordlessly, gasping through stuttered inhales, and you saw Joe look, frown at it, thinking, deciphering.

“Sit?”

“Hmm,” you nodded, and started shifting, turning on the bed, but Joe’s hands squeezed your thighs and pushed them into the mattress as he got up. He climbed onto the bed, hands not leaving your body once and moved to sit behind you, legs around your hips, arms around your front.

Your hands immediately found his arm to grab and dig nails into, and the added warmth to your back made you let out a short soft hum that almost sounded like a whimper.

“Lean back, I got you,” Joe whispered, his head now resting on your own as he pulled you closer. With your back pressed against his chest, head firmly slotted into place underneath his chin, you could feel your shoulders slump down a little bit.

“Good. Yea, that’s good.” Joe cooed before he softly shushed you, stopping when he heard your throat make a noise.

“Can you,” you start through a shuddering breath, “Squeeze?”

Joe didn’t need asking twice, arms slowly wrapping around further, tentative and careful in case it was all too much, squeezing your ribcage right against his.

It made you sigh.

Feeling pressure from an actual outside source made it easier to accept the constriction of your chest. Made it make sense a little more.

“There you go,” Joe muttered as you sagged into him, your head falling forward for a moment as a small sigh escaped you. “This good? Or do you want it tighter?”

You squeezed fingers into his forearm by ways of answering, heartbeat all chaos.

“Here, pull your knees up, get them in here,” Joe said, reaching, leaning back for a second and taking you with him. You managed to plant both feet onto the mattress, knees drawing up to your chest and Joe reached both arms around, pulling you into him fully.

Yes.

Curled up and hidden.

Compressed into warmth.

This helped.

You sat like that for a while, locked into Joe completely. His grip didn’t waver once, until you’d slowly stopped crying. But even then, Joe wasn’t just going to let go of you easily. He’d let go once he’d be told to do so.

Joe tilted his head to look at you when you started sliding your hands over Joe’s forearms, running slowly up to the hems of the sleeves of his T-shirt where they played with the soft fabric. He could barely see you at all, but he was able to catch the tear stains, the worry-lines, the rosy cheeks.

Made him hug you tighter, squeezing you once more as his face buried into your neck on the side.

“You OK?”

You nodded, small little up and down movements of your head, mostly because you didn’t want to test if your throat felt normal again when you spoke.

“I know you said,” Joe started, softly whispering, not needing to speak any louder, you were so close. “You said you sometimes got unprovoked, what’d you call them? Freak outs?”

You nodded again, breathing slowly, using fingernails to trace lines over the back of Joe’s hand.

“We never talked about what I should do to help when you have one...”

You spasmed on a deeper inhale, before you said, “I know, maybe we should have,” and you tried thinking of what you would’ve told him. What would you have said for Joe to do? Asking him to compress you the way you’d only just managed to do this time was a spur of the moment thing that ended up helping a lot. However, you wouldn’t have known that beforehand.

You noticed Joe had started swaying, rocking back and forth with you.

“This OK?”

“Yea,”

“Is this... was this how it usually goes?”

“Hmm, they normally last longer,”

Your faces were so close, you were fine murmuring in your softest whispers. With Joe’s chin digging into your shoulder now, you exhaled and let your legs fall down, knees over the edge of the bed again. Joe took the moment to shift and get a proper look at your face and you might as well have slapped him right across his.

There was practically nothing left of you.

Tiny.

So fucking small.

“You sure you’re all right?” he asked, entirely unconvinced that you were.

“Tired,”

Yea, Joe could imagine. Look at you.

“Are you all right?” you asked, and Joe had to really try to not pinch you in the side at the sound of your smile seeping through.

“No, that was fucking terrifying,”

You chuckled softly, immediately winced at how sore your muscles felt.

“Sorry,”

“No don’t,” Joe took a sharp breath as he watched his own hand find yours over your front to intertwine fingers together. “Don’t apologise. Just tell me what to do.”

“This was good.”

“Yea?”

“Hmm.”

Joe did so good.

“I think it’s why this one didn’t take so long,” you said quietly, and you felt Joe squeeze your hand as he hugged tighter once more as he actively tried to keep his own tears at bay. Realising that you’d struggled through panic attacks on your own without someone to hold you more often than not, was stupidly heart-breaking.

He thought back to that girl he’d seen cry at school when he was 14 and felt guilty over his lack of empathy then.

“Hey,” you whispered, feeling how Joe was holding his breath, feeling his heartbeat slowly stumble in chaos of its own now.

“Relax,” you repeated Joe from before, same tone of voice, but way softer. It instantly got a huff of laughter from him before he groaned softly and pressed his head against yours.

“Don’t apologise,” you said, full on grinning now, turning your head to look at him. “Just tell me what to do.”

Joe looked at you a second, happy to see you smile, overwhelmed with how you managed to fill his insides with all things soft so strongly.

Fingers took hold of you by the chin and pulled you in closer for a kiss that you hummed into. When Joe was about to pull back, you got him by the neck and lengthened it. Made Joe hum into your mouth in return, until you finally broke and gave each other dopey smiles.

“This was good.” Joe said, mimicking you now.

“Yea?”

All chaos gone.

“Hmm.”

So good.

---

The Taglisted

@adoreyouusugar, @alana4610, @ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @barfightzanddiscolightz, @bettyfrommars, @cancankiki, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @chrissymjstan, @choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @dylanmunson, @eddies-puppet, @electricmunson, @emma77645, @emmamooney, @everythinghasafacee, @figmentofquinn, @frootvelvet, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @harringtonfan4, @haylaansmi, @jasminearondottir, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @kellyxo1, @kennedy-brooke, @lovelyblueness, @manda-panda-monium, @miserybeans, @nadixq, @notverywise, @pepperstories, @phyllosilicate-s, @roosterisdaddy36, @sherrylyn628, @sidthedollface2, @thebellenouvelle, @thewondernanazombie, @tlclick73, @werepartnersnow, @winterwakesthewolf, @witchwolflea, @yelyahcardella, @yunirgo

taglist currently full, sorry

[sarahs-secrets2]

Surf's Up! ˋ♡ˊ

surfer!leon x fem reader! no use of y/n!

someone approaches you at the beach and offers you a surf lesson, do you say yes? 1k words!

a/n: i dont surf, i tried to make it as accurate as i could pls forgive me in advance

₊°✧︡ ˗ ˏ ˋ ♡ ˎˊ

Saying it was hot out was an understatement with the way the sun refused to let up, and it didn't help that there wasn't a single cloud in the sky on your beach day. Most people would love this kind of day but the stagnant heat was unbearable, especially with the addition of burning hot sand.

You propped yourself up on the palms of your hands onto the striped towel beneath you, allowing your gaze to drift toward the sea. It was peak surfing hour. The waves were strong today hence why you were avoiding the water while the surfers were the first to jump in. Bringing a hand up to your face to shield the stray beams of sunlight, you watched as the surfers attempted to catch a wave. Shifting on the towel, pulling your knees close to your chest becoming completely enthralled in the display in front of you. 

“You gonna get out there today?” a voice appeared behind you. Your head cocked to the side of you, neck craning to get a view of the stranger. 

“Me? Hell no,” you chuckled, looking up at the man who towered above you as you sat on the towel. It was hard to make out his face entirely as the sun that had been pestering you all day continued to do so, perching itself almost directly above the man's head resulting in a faint shadow draping over the man’s features. Pushing yourself up from the sand you stood facing the man now finally able to see his face.

“I think you should give it a try,” he smiled wide as he laughed, well aware you weren’t a surfer by any means. “Ah sorry, Leon,” his hand jutted out awkwardly for a handshake, “Where are my manners?”

“Nice to meet you, Leon,” it was almost impossible not to smile at how genuinely kind he seemed, a tad nervous but it was undeniably cute. Leon had blonde hair that seemed to be pulling more on the lighter side due to the constant sun you could tell he was getting. His eyes were just as blue as the ocean that was just a few meters away. You would be doing a disservice to yourself if you didn't admit how attractive he was. His wetsuit was draped around his waist, slightly tugging his swim trunks down showing a bit more than just his tan line. “You headed out?” your head motioned towards the crashing waves. 

“Soon, got distracted,” winking as shifted his feet in the sand, “I could teach you ya know, if you want to learn that is,” his fingers ran through his hair, pushing it back and out of his face. Your eyes flickered from him to the other surfers on the horizon. Although you quite literally just met him there was something about Leon that you knew you could trust. Leon was able to make out your indecision, his hand reached for your shoulder giving it a light squeeze, “C’mon, promise I’ll take good care of ya,”

“Fineee,” you dragged it out, trying to play it cool and hide your excitement, “When’s my lesson?”

“Tonight? Like 5 or 6-ish, I can bring an extra board and wetsuit for you,” his hand snaked around his head as he rubbed the back of his neck, nervous that you would change your mind.

“That sounds perfect,”

“Good, yeah great actually,” he laughed as he stumbled over his words. “Okay yeah, tonight,” he repeated, faintly mumbling as his nerves seemed to get the better of him. Leon hadn’t planned this far ahead, you actually saying yes. He had figured you would've written him off from the start. 

“I hope you’re a good teacher,” you teased, trying to ease his mind a bit. 

“Oh yeah I’m great,” Leon loosened up, leaning into your jokes. “You’ll be my first student so you’ll have to give me some pointers yeah?” his arms crossed in front of his chest as he sized you up. 

“Yeah I think I can manage that, I can be quite the teacher’s pet,” your comment was quick to catch Leon off guard, he cleared his throat with his eyes darting to the ground. 

“Uh,” his voice trailed as he tried to regain his train of thought, “Show me tonight,” he attempted to laugh it off, obviously flustered. He fiddled with his wetsuit for a minute before tugging it up and slipping his arms through the sleeves. Almost like he was doing it on purpose, he left the zipper wide opening, basically forcing you to look at how fit he was. “You gonna watch me out there? Keep an eye on me?”

“Of course, can’t lose my teacher before my lesson,” you winked, making sure to keep your eyes on his, not letting them drift any lower. 

“Good,” he chuckled, zipping up the wetsuit finally. “I’m counting on it, see you here tonight,” he winked back before jogging off to get his board. 

You smiled to yourself as you settled back down onto the beach towel. Your hand was back up to cover your eyes from the sun to offer a better view of the surfers. It was impossible to miss Leon’s bright blonde hair amidst the crowd as he paddled out to catch a wave. It wasn't long before he was able to pick one out and get up. Almost an hour had passed and Leon stayed out catching wave after wave.

After sitting at the beach the entirety of the day, you were in desperate need of a quick refresh at home before your lesson later. With that, you picked up your towel and bag and started making your way back to your car. 

“See you later,” a voice yelled out. Your head swiveled around to see Leon still in the ocean, sitting on his board, waving to you. Smiling, you waved back at him before continuing your walk and hoping you wouldn't make a complete fool out of yourself later.

₊°✧︡ ˗ ˏ ˋ ♡ ˎˊ

part 2!

massive shoutout and thank you to @navstuffs for being so so kind and helping me get back into this writing thing after my break! :)

[the-s1lly-corner]

He accidentally hurts you (Eyeless Jack edition)

I've been meaning to explore something like this and I'm still hungry for angst! Very heavy on my hc of "eyeless jack is cursed and has moments where his monstrous side takes a hold of him especially when it craves flesh",

Basic idea is reader gets hurt, jack smells blood, curse immediately totally takes over, blah blah things happen

More fan fiction-y than my usual short headcannons, but still using the bullet point format since I couldnt commit to the bit

Cw for mild injury, blood, mentions of SH but I wont dwell on it

Not proof read we die like Jack's self esteem

It wasnt too often that the ugliest side of Jack's curse showed itself; at least that's what you thought. You were under the impression that it happened rarely, due to the fact that you only visit Jack when he gives you the go ahead, on nights where he knows it wouldn't be an issue

But tonight, as your anniversary draws near, you decided to drop in unexpected for a night with your boyfriend. It was hard enough getting to his cabin, what with the rain and it being dark..

When you made it to his door, you could hear... noises..

Growls, hisses, howls; all pained. It sounded like there was a fight happening on the other side of the door... the sound of things being thrown and someone's body slamming against the walls made your worry spike

Of course you opened the door, fearing that someone had intruded into your partners cabin.. but when you threw it open, you saw that Jack was alone. Covered in bruises, and his arms bloodied with claw marks and bite wounds; showing off his blackened, inky blood. The man's small body heaved with ragged breaths as his empty sockets locked onto you

You quickly explained yourself after assessing that he was in one of his.. low points..

He wanted you to leave, but the rain had become to pour harsher outside; far too dangerous to walk out alone

And how could you leave him be when he was so obviously wounded? You insisted on patching him up, to which Jack reluctantly agreed to.

So you took him to the bathroom and took out his small first aid kit, and got to work.

Washing the wounds, adding pressure to where he needed it, added bandages. When you were done, you placed a light kiss on his arms

That seemed to soften him up, even through his building bloodlust and hunger

"I'll go get some bedding and we can set camp out in the living room," you said, trying to keep him pacified. He seemed to enjoy the idea..

He was smiling.. that's good, and his breathing seemed to calm down just a touch, though it was still on the.. hissy growly side..

You headed to his room, gathered some of his comforters and pillows, and walked to the living room, then went to his room a second time to grab his radio, knowing it can help keep him calm.

Unfortunately; due to the cabin being run down, one of the wooden floorboards was loose and lightly curled upwards... and, well. You tripped. You managed to save the radio, somehow, but your face slammed down onto the floor

Instant nosebleed

You cursed, and pressed a finger up to your upper lip.. yep, that's blood.. lots of it, the burning in your face intensifying as the pain set in, making your eyes water

Before you even had time to process anything else, a growl caught your attention. Spinning around, still on the floor, you saw Jack. The leaking ink of his eyes doubled in pace and volume; making a mess of his face and shirt as his bared teeth flashed down at you, nose flared and ears peaked at attention. Because of course, how could you forget, the smell of blood is basically a death sentence when Jack's curse is flared.

Your mind raced as you scooted backwards, Jack seemed to be fighting himself; but he lost. Before you could choose between running or bracing, he jumped on you

Bracing it was, then. Your arms shot up in front of you, and you felt white hot pain almost immediately

But just as soon as he jumped on you, you felt him pull himself off. Blood was all over his jaw, and getting spread all over the floor as he began to force himself to spit it out. Growls were replaced by low whines, before he scampered off, leaving you alone

It all happened so fast you were left confused on the floor, holding your arm. It felt worse than it looked; his teeth didnt seem to go that deep, and since he didnt... pull at you with his teeth still in, you were still intact... that was nice, at least..

Your mind went back to racing as you processed what happened.. you needed to get cleaned up before Jack slipped again

And that's exactly what you did; you rushed into the bathroom you were in just earlier, and began the process of cleaning the wound..

After a minute, the door cracked open; Jack peered in, more mellowed out than before but guilt was written all over his face. It was clear he was still struggling with his hunger, and you can tell just by looking that he was debating whether or not to approach you

His face twisted in pain when he, although hard to tell due to his lack of eyes, seemed to glance at the wound

"Its not that bad," you insist, but he shook his head. "You could have died.. I should have dealt with this sooner, you shouldn't have to.." he trailed off, "get hurt," he finished. His ears drooped slightly as he slumped. He pushed the door open, and entered the bathroom

His hands shook slightly as he removed yours from your arm. "Its my fault, I need to fix it.." he mumbled. You didn't push him away, although it may have been a dumb idea to let the starving man eater handle your bloodied arm

Cleaned, applied pressure, bandaged

He stared at the bandages, still holding your arm in his hands

You finally noticed just how cold he was. Jack was always on the cooler side, but at the moment he was freezing, even though he was covered in a layer of sweat

He ran his clawed fingers along where the wound would be, as light as a feather, as not to risk hurting you again

He leaned down, and lightly pressed a kiss to the bandages; just as you done for him

"Im so sorry," he whimpered, leaving another kiss

"You shouldn't have to be put in danger just to try to help me," his eyes welled with inky tears, and he left another kiss

"You shouldn't have to see me like this," his voice creaked out, another kiss

He was about to lay down a fifth kiss, but you stopped him

You reassure him; it wasn't exactly his fault. He didnt ask to be cursed, he didn't mean any of this to happen, he had been roped and manipulated into the situation that made him this way. You reassured him that you'd heal, and you weren't going to think badly of him, how you took the chance for something like this to happen when you first got together. Things like that. Though, this will call for a more in depth discussion about how to prevent this in the future, make a system and means of communication so he can warn you ahead of time during flare ups... but right now, comfort was top priority

It took a minute, but his tears slowed and he got control on his breathing. He whimpered, before peeling himself off of you

He backed off, but you tugged him into your arms

Cue the waterworks, again. You both hugged, not speaking.. just standing there for a few minutes. He rested his head on your chest, and you rested yours in his shoulder. You pulled away, and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "Do you still want me to stay?", you asked. He looked conflicted. He didnt want to run the risk, but he didnt want to be alone. Besides, the storm was still raging outside

"Why don't you.. stay here tonight, I'll step out.." he said softly as he stepped back. He cut you off before you could respond, "I'll be back soon, I just.. need to get this.." he gestured to himself, "dealt with, I don't feel safe having you around.. its only a matter of time before.. " he trailed off. You nodded, "I understand.. be back in the morning?"

He hesitated, before nodding back, "I'll be back as soon as I can be," he said quietly

You let him make his way to the front door, tugging his hold and mask on

"I love you," you said as you watched him open the door

He paused.

"I love you, too," he said, the cracks returning in his voice, likely choking down his emotions again

"We'll talk.. more about this in the morning," he added, smoother this time

"Alrighty," was all you said

And he left for the night, closing the door behind him

WOOOO

I hope that wasny too bad

This was really just a VERY vague idea I had for a few days that i wanted to write but I'm too lazy to do proof reading and rough drafts <\3 and im not used to writing longer detailed stuff like this, let alone dialogue

I hope it's not too cringe, I feel like the ending it rushed because

Erm

I didnt know how to end it

So

Uj

Yay

Eyeless jack angst

[hannigramislife]

Question: What's your opinion on all Dazai ships? I personally think that literally everyone could do better <3

Omgg anon, I love this ask so goddamn much!! Okay, let's get into it-this is gonna be long.

Two things before I continue. One, I'm a Hannigram fan, make of that what you will. Secondly, shipping does not mean "oh, these two are definitely canon, they have feelings for each other," shipping has always meant "I love their dynamic and can see a world where it could be romantic." That's why we have more than one.

Soukoku (Dazai/Chuuya) - Obviously this was gonna be my first choice to start this conversation. I think that soukoku is textually supported. I'm sorry, but there's just some things you don't write if you don't want people to ship two characters. These two are written for each other, therefore a perfectly valid ship. I myself do not ship skk, don't care about them as a ship at all, but I can certainly see the appeal. They have a history, and they're now on opposite sides, but still every bit the lethal team-up. I don't get the emotional side of it though – they inspire no such feeling in me, and I do believe Chuuya could definitely do better XD

Kunizai (Kunikida/Dazai) - This one I actually like quite a lot. I don't necessarily ship them in canon, but I believe they're good for each other. Kunikida with his rigidness and morals and Dazai with his carelessness and disaster that seems to follow him. I also like how Kunikida has a book where he jots down the best way to live, and Dazai has a book he carries around on how to die. I believe they're very different, but the sincere trust and care they have for each other, as well as the easiness of their partnership is something they both rely on and need. 10/10 ship.

Dazatsu (Dazai/Atsushi) - The age gap here is the biggest problem for people from what I've seen, but I don't think this is a proship or a bad ship that should be discouraged. Again, I don't ship it, but I feel it's perfectly fine if you do? "Oh, there's a power imbalance-" bitch, what power imbalance?? Like, you do know they're coworkers, right? Yes, Dazai saved him and Atsushi is grateful, but Atsushi is not stupid or blindly devoted or whatever. What he is, is mentally ill, but then again, so is Dazai, and if you think Dazai would take advantage of him, then that says more about Dazai as a character than it does the ship itself. Atsushi could definitely do better, and to me, that better is Akutagawa XD

Morizai (Mori/Dazai) - Well, I don't think I have any thoughts on this, other than the obvious ones. Dazai was a child in the Mafia, and they do seem to have a more guardian/ward relationship, fucked up as it is. Mori was definitely at least mentally and emotionally abusive to Dazai, from what we've seen. I don't think anyone would actually ship this? Unless you're talking purely fanfic scenarios. In this case, Dazai could do better. So yeah, I'm gonna go ahead and "nope" this.

Odazai (Oda/Dazai) - Now listen. Again, I don't ship this (I don't know if I ship anything that has Dazai, I hate the man), but if you think Oda and Dazai had a father/son relationship, you're delusional. Dazai cared so much for Oda, and upon reading Beast, I refuse to believe there was no universe where Dazai developed feelings for him. I think of them every time I listen to any Adele songs. "Them" being their Beast version. I'm so serious. This is a valid ship far as I'm concerned.

Dazaku (Dazai/Akutagawa) - This one is a ship that I get so riled up about. Because of the fandom. I honestly never gave this ship a second thought until I saw how hated it was. Then, I realized it's hated for all the wrong goddamn reasons. I don't ship it, because I hate Dazai on principle, but sometimes, I feel like I'm shipping it out of spite. It's like people can't make up their minds about the dynamic of these two. When you want to say Dazai abused Akutagawa, they'll be like "Oh, Dazai was a child, too!" Then you say they both grew and are healing – and maybe Dazai cared after all? – and it's all "You can't ship him with his abuser!" Well, which is it now? Is Dazai a bad guy still? Is it so wrong to want Dazai to care? To imagine Dazai pulling Akutagawa into the light with him? When people vehemently hate on this ship, I take that to mean "Yeah, Dazai is the worst, how could you ship Akutagawa with him?" Which, great take, I'm all for that. This ship is overhated in my opinion. Both Dazai and Akutagawa are two important pillars of what makes Bsd what it is. Their relationship is complicated and messy and important – so yeah, I'm not surprised people would ship this. Sometimes, toxic yaoi is where it's at, and you just wanna fix them. Akutagawa can DEFINITELY do better.

Souheki (Dazai/Ranpo) - I think they're besties. Absolutely nothing romantic here for me. I cannot see it, but I love them both, so I'd read fics at least. They're both geniuses who hold deep respect for each other. They may be able to understand each other much quicker and on a deeper level than other people, but I think they'd be a disaster if they were to date. Absolutely not. Plus, I'm a huge Ranpoe fan, so I'm biased.

Fyozai (Fyodor/Dazai) - They have a lot of tension, I'll give them that. They're two pretty, genius bitches playing 3 dimensional chess while everyone else plays checkers. Plus, being on opposite sides?? I can appreciate some enemies to lovers when I see it. I think if I were Fyodor, I'd definitely be interested in this young man who can match my intellect even as I've been alive since Jesus Christ was born. Also, don't ask me why, but they feel so gay when they're together – just, not for each other? I think in a no powers au, they'd definitely experiment together lmao. So, valid ship in-universe? I'm going to allow it. They could both do better.

Sigzai (Sigma/Dazai) - I don't know how this ship got popular?? I mean, sure?? Great ship?? Genuinely don't know what to say. I mean, they're there and they're both pretty?? I guess? Honestly, Sigma reminded me of Akutagawa, it was kinda funny to see. But go off XD??

I think that was it, lemme know if I forgot any major ships!

[plainclothesdisaster]

Red Knight Chapter 5 - Curses & Couches

DP x DC | Dead on Main

Jason Todd encounters one Danny Fenton in the streets of Gotham and suddenly he's thrown into a world of ghosts and monsters. Will he embrace this life? Or will it just end up with him dead again?

Read on AO3 | Beginning | < Prev | Next >

——

The night after the brawl in Danny’s apartment Jason was out as Red Hood scouting a possible arms deal when he spotted it— a Curse Ghost, vaguely beastly and oozing black goo, just as ugly and unsettling as the one from Danny’s place. Jason texted him.

Found one.

So you didnʼt lose my number after all. Iʼll be right there.

Jason sent him the location- a rusted sewer grate at the edge of crime alley that he’d seen a curse ghost vanish into. Danny arrived minutes later in jeans and a jacket, same as always. Not like Jason had been expecting any different, but he had gotten used to working with the Bat. Capes and masks came standard. Danny was anything but standard.

“You bring the gear?” Danny asked as he stepped up toward the sewer gate Jason stood beside.

Jason opened his jacket to reveal he had strapped all kinds of whips and tasers and lasers and launchers to his holsters. He even wore the invisibility cuffs. And the sword.

Danny grinned. “I also brought something extra I think youʼll like.” He reached into his own jacket and pulled out, with great panache, a pair of plain white gym socks.

Jason scowled. “A selection from your laundry pile?” Still, he took them as Danny handed them over.

“If by laundry pile you mean my pile of genius inventions, then yes.”

“Iʼll pass.”

“Suit yourself.” Danny shrugged. “If getting sewer water in your shoes is your thing I won’t stop you.”

Jason frowned.

And then he found himself wearing Dannyʼs socks (back in his boots, mind you), hunting the curse down the drain tunnel, hovering inches above the water instead of sludging through it.

“Real flight just wasnʼt doable with the tech, but these still have their uses.” Danny commented from ahead, his voice echoing down the tunnel completely careless of stealth. He also hovered, simple as if gravity had just turned off for him, none of the wobbles or wavers in balance that Jason was currently trying to hide. Forty feet into the darkness of the sewer and Jason was relying on the night vision in his helmet. Meanwhile Danny seemed just fine.

As they approached a junction in the pipe, Danny slowed. “Its here,” he whispered. Jason sensed it too, somehow. The air was colder and more alive somehow, the colors more warped and saturated.

They peeked silently around the corner and there it was, lounging half submerged like an overstuffed crocodile. Black ooze seeped into the water all around it, making it hard to tell where the beast itself began.

Danny threw him a look, anticipation dancing in his Lazarus green eyes. And then without further warning he pounced.

Hopes of keeping their socks dry vanished. Danny was quickly sopping, no thanks to his outfit choice. Still he fought like a terror, ducking out of the way of massive dripping jaws that threatened to halve him as he returned blows and blasts in kind. Jason watched with trained curiosity. Heʼd been so preoccupied with not dying last time he hadnʼt learned much. This time he bit down his fear enough to make sense of how the curse ghost moved- like water and like a rockslide- and how Danny countered- like mist and lightning.

The curse ghost turned toward Jason and like a firecracker hid anger ignited and lost any inclination he had to stay on the sidelines. He instinctively reached for his guns but then thought better of it in close quarters. Instead he pulled the sword off his back. He swung with stiff determination, slicing through black crocodile hide. He felt a grim thrill as the beast roared.

Jason fought with less caution this time. More rhythm. In the end they overpowered it, beating it down deeper into the sludge until Danny sucked it up with the thermos, neat and tidy.

Danny smiled at him. “Nice work.”

Jason kneeled where it had fallen. Traces of black goo remained on the walls. He ran his fingers through it and it stuck to his gloves like slimy tar. “What the hell are these guys made of?”

Danny kneeled next to him, also inspecting the sludge remains. He pursed his lips. “It’s corrupted ectoplasm.”

Like Jason’s, Danny didn’t say. Didn’t need to.

“These guys are more solid than regular ghosts. It didn’t just phase out of here. It splashed in the water.” Danny rubbed the goo between his fingers before shaking it off.

“You said they’re Gotham’s curse, right? Makes sense that they’d be solid here, more than the regular ghosts.”

Danny looked at him, studying his face as if his mask wasn’t there. “Yeah. I think you’re right.”

Why did he feel such a surge of glowing pride at Danny’s acknowledgement? Like passing another test. Earning his way into this world.

He caught himself. What the hell did he need to prove? He knew he was a great detective- and he could do it all without all the fancy tools and access that Bruce and his flock had.

But solving the curse ghosts was one thing. Solving Danny was what he really cared about. And to do that he needed Danny to trust him.

//

During the days that followed he tried to tend to his other cases, and he thought about Danny.

Mid stakeout of an upstart drug trafficker his mind wandered. Danny, going to class like some normal college kid. Eating lunch. Making friends. Did he have friends? Jason considered tailing him again to find out, but he thought better of it. If Danny caught him snooping now it wouldn’t be easy to explain it away, and he’d lose the burgeoning trust between them. Or burgeoning friendship. Were they friends?

Jason had made allies for less before, but with Danny he couldn’t let his guard down, not completely. Jason remembered how he took down four thugs like it was nothing. He remembered how Danny looked at him with icy eyes right before he’d dropped him off a building. Every instinct reminded him Danny was dangerous.

The back alley door he’d been watching opened and it took him two seconds longer than it should have for him to react. The men nearly saw him as he ducked his head behind the corner and out of sight.

He eavesdropped on the drug deal, mentally filing away details on where the money was going. He watched as the men got in a black car, noted the license plate. It all felt a bit pedestrian compared to the Lovecraftian beasts he now knew to be lurking in the shadows.

He’d dealt with his fate share of meta weirdness and science experiments gone wrong in Gotham. But he wondered if this was how Bruce felt after coming back from dealing with Justice Leage level business. How was he supposed to focus on small time drug trade when a supernatural threat loomed large over his city?

Amity Park continued to yield no answers, even when he deepened his search. Going out of his way to delve into Gotham library archives wielded no new leads. Newspapers, business reports, even government documents- all missing or, more worrisome, heavily redacted.

When he looked again for the scientific paper by the Drs. Fenton, it had also disappeared from the net. Good thing he’d made a backup when he first discovered it, but it meant someone wasn’t taking too kindly to him poking around.

None of what he found explained what Danny was. Or, maybe more importantly, what kind of person he was.

He remembered something Alfred had once told Bruce after long nights of fruitless research. Some things you can’t solve while holed up in your cave. Some you have to do personally.

He didnʼt remember agreeing to it but he found himself meeting up with Danny nearly every night. Even if he tried to work on his other cases, inevitably a curse ghost would show up and derail his evening plans.

Danny speculated that they sought out Jason more now because he’d proved himself a threat, the same way they came after Danny. “Now that they know your ecto signature-“ whatever the hell that was- they’ll come looking. Territorial bastards.”

“Easier than hunting them down I guess.”

“I like the positive attitude.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

They established a meeting place on the roof old hotel that sat in the heart of crime alley. There had been texts exchanged at first but as the weeks went on they became unnecessary. Jason knew that when he swung up on to the roof each night that Danny would be there waiting for him.

That particular night he landed on the roof with barely a sound. Dannyʼs eyes still flicked over immediately. He sat where he typically did on the roofs edge, and his lips turned up in a half smile as soon as he saw Jason. Excitement buzzed in Jasonʼs skin like neon. Adrenaline. Just the anticipation for the upcoming hunt, he told himself. Certainly nothing else.

They weren’t waiting long before sirens and burglar alarms rang like beacons a few streets over.

“Shall we?” Jason cracked his knuckles.

“After you.”

Jason tipped himself forward off the building, diving in a short free fall. As he neared the street he didn’t reach for his grapple gun, instead he pulled on that energy under his heart, focused on his socks and hovered the last few feet to the ground. Danny followed behind in lazy twists and curls like a leaf in the wind.

They caught up with the curse ghost on the next block over. It ran through the street, a mangy goopy dog, as tall as a truck with too-sharp teeth. As it passed lights in doorways flickered and went dark, cars honked in the streets as drivers cut each other off, the cops on the corner stopped a group of teens with hands itching at their hips.

Jason felt it too, the way that whisky burns down your throat, riling you at your core.

“Ooh it’s a real nasty one,” Danny quipped. Was it Jason’s imagination or were his teeth even sharper than usual?

So far Jason had only encountered the beasts in places already filled with death and fear and aggression. It made his skin crawl to see the effect work the other way. The beast crashed through the street like an invisible wave, spreading misfortune, inciting aggression. He tasted acid at the back of his throat.

Danny had told him the curse caused suffering and then fed on it, a cycle that perpetuated ending with it getting stronger and stronger. All at the expense of Gotham. It struck Jason as blunt as a crowbar to the side. No matter what he did as Red Hood, no matter what any of the bats did— peace in Gotham had less than a snowball’s chance in hell. Not with these beasts running wild.

He ran after it wordlessly, Danny by his side. They followed the trail of misfortune through the streets of crime alley and then into downtown proper. Jason had half a though about truces and territories made with Batman in where he could and could not operate, but any qualms blew past him as his vision tunneled on the beast.

Heat churned under his skin and he felt a swell of rage despite the fact that Danny still kept pace beside him. This rage wasn’t sharp and bright like the rage he intimately knew, instead it burned oily and black.

They rounded a corner and real heat smacked him in the face. Ahead of them a building burned vigorously, flames eating their way out windows on every floor. He watched as the curse ghost dove through the open front door into the inferno.

“Shit,” Danny hissed beside him. “I’m going in.”

Without further warning Danny disappeared, presumably diving in after the beast.

The rage still burning in his gut egged Jason on to follow. Then, a cry from above. In the window, two kids framed by an orange inferno. Below on the street other people covered in soot pointed up, desperation in their voices.

Sense snapped back to him like an ice bath, priorities set. He strode toward the building and launched a grapple line, zipping up to the window.

“Grab on tight.” He hoisted two little girls off the windowsill and they followed his instruction, clinging to his midsection. He lowered them all down just as a loud crack came from the building above as the beams began to burst.

As he set the girls on the ground the older one spoke up, her voice barely a squeak. “Our brother-“

Fuck. Jason looked back up. The window frame was nearly devoured in flame. Fuck.

The wail of sirens echoed steadily closer, but not fast enough. He couldn’t just rush in unscathed like Danny had, he wasn’t wearing the jacket that made him intangible (supposedly, he hadn’t yet made it work all the way). But he still had to do something. He gripped his grapple gun and steeled himself.

And then Danny shot out of the second story window like a comet, landing haphazardly beside Jason. Around his neck, wrapped safely within his arms, was a little boy.

The sisters cried out with joy and Danny passed the boy to them, dazed and soot covered but still breathing. Danny smiled up at Jason, ashes tangled in the mess of his black hair.

“Red Hood?”

Shit. He would recognize that voice even if he were still dead.

“Batman.” Jason turned and saw his former mentor illuminated in firelight.

Fire trucks and EMTs arrived moments later, tending to the civilians and doing what they could against the blaze. Out of the corner of his eye Jason saw a flash of the iconic red and yellow on the roof. Robin was deploying some kind of fire extinguishing smoke bombs from above.

“What happened here?” Batman was never one to mince words. Still, Jason didn’t appreciate the accusatory undertone.

“Isn’t a guy allowed to save a few kids from a burning building once in a while?” He retorted.

“You’re outside of Crime Alley. Any particular reason?”

“W—“ he glanced over his shoulder. Danny was nowhere to be seen. Good. “I was just passing through. Helped how I could. But now it seems like you and Gotham’s finest have got it handled so I’ll be on my way.”

“Wait—“

Jason in fact did not wait. He shouldered his way past running firemen and slipped deeper into the shadows behind the crowd. He remembered the invisibility cuffs and with a bit of focus he made extra certain Batman couldn’t follow.

He waited till he was safely back inside the streets of crime alley (he chuckled to himself that anyone could think of these streets as safe) before he dropped the invisibility.

He found Danny waiting for him on top of their hotel.

“You okay?” Danny asked as Jason sat next to him on the edge of the roof.

“Fine.”

“Sorry I bailed so quickly, I-“

“Batman can not find out about you,” Jason interrupted. Meta or not, Batman wouldn’t be pleased if anyone as powerful as Danny was roaming around Gotham unchecked. If Bruce saw him, if he got any sense of his capabilities, he’d certainly confront him, or worse.

“Yeah, exactly, way ahead of you,” Danny breathed. “The Dark Knight is not on the list of heroes I’d like to meet.”

Jason hummed in the affirmative, satisfied.

“You get the curse ghost?”

“What? Oh, no. Forgot about him as soon as I saw there were still people. in the building. I think I got them all out before the B man showed up.”

“You’re a hero then. Or vigilante.”

“Was. I’m retired.”

“You don’t seem retired to me.”

“It’s complicated.”

In truth Jason had been relieved when Danny flew out of the building with that kid. Relieved for the kid of course, but equally relieved that Danny had chosen the civilians over the curse ghost. It meant that maybe he was just as altruistic as he claimed to be.

“So are these ghosts better or worse than the ones in Amity Park?” Jason ventured, pushing what trust he’d built.

Danny stiffened at the mention of Amity Park.

“I never mentioned Amity.” A hint of dangerous green glinted behind his eyes. Jason swallowed.

“I know. I was curious.” He replied, as breezy as possible. Like he hadn’t spent hours scouring through old records and obscure blogs to even get this scrap of information.

Danny pressed his lips together. “I haven’t been back in a long time.”

“Not even to see your parents?” Jason was getting reckless now.

“No.” Hard and cold as stone. “They’re not there anymore.”

Noted. Fenton parents were a subject to avoid with Danny. And a subject he would need to redouble his research on.

“And yeah. All ghosts are similar everywhere. Aside from the Curse Ghosts.” Danny offered, the chill fading from the air.

Getting info off of him was easy if Jason asked the right questions. Figuring out the questions was the hard part.

“How did they even get here then? The Curse Ghosts.” Jason asked. “Is there a portal close by?” Portal like the one the Fentons may or may not have created, like the one that supposedly killed Danny.

“No, they’re special. They form here in Gotham, no portal necessary,” came Danny’s unguarded reply. His gaze was far off, down into the streets like he could see them there.

“Actually,” Danny got that conspiratorial look as he turned to Jason, “Come with me.”

//

“Iʼve been trying to find a pattern for where the curse ghosts show up.” Danny sat at the messy desk in his apartment. Jason leaned over his shoulder as he pointed to a map on an outdated monitor.

It was Gotham, with red points dotting various locations. Jason recognized a few as locations theyʼd fought Curse Ghosts together but there were dozens more spots that Jason hadnʼt been at.

“Crime Alley is one obvious hot spot. Plenty of misery here to feed off of. But also— here by the docks, in the business district, by city hall, at Arkham.”

“So, anywhere.” Jason deadpanned.

Danny shot him a look. He clicked a key and another layer of dots showed up on the map.

“News stories of note- strange deaths, corruption, theft. Thereʼs always a surge after a beast shows up.”

“Seems obvious. And unhelpful.”

Danny huffed. “Yeah, well, usually one of your seventeen resident vigilantes shows up and restores order before things get too bad. Starves ‘em out a bit, unlike the big fish we were after tonight. But this is still helpful to get a bead on those to avoid real disasters.”

Jason studied the map layered with articles. “There has to be a way to predict where they’ll form.”

Danny hit a few keys and tossed him a thumb drive. “Knock yourself out.”

Danny leaned back in his chair. He looked tired.

Jason changed the subject. “So what do you study?”

“Huh?”

He gestured to the GU hoodie and various homework-esque bits around the room.

“Oh. Mechanical Engineering,” Danny replied with limited enthusiasm. “What about you? You go to school?”

“Not since I died.” Jason replied. Danny winced. “But itʼs okay. Not really my scene.”

“Oh cmon. There must be something youʼd want to study.”

“Maybe- no. Itʼs stupid.” Jason sat down on the arm of the sofa- the one that was still mostly intact.

“They have all sorts of weird degrees you can do now. You could do Crimonogy. Physicology. Extreme weightlifting with a minor in anthropology.”

“Or Literature.”

“What?” The corners of Danny’s mouth quirked up as he turned toward Jason.

“You know- the classics. Novels. The poets. That kind of stuff.”

Dannyʼs face curled into a smile. “Didnʼt peg you for the type.”

“You donʼt know me.” Jason was thankful the helmet hid the heat rising to his face.

“Touché.”

“Why mechanical engineering?” Jason countered.

“My grades were so shit in high school it was kind of a fall back.” Jason raised a doubting eyebrow.

“No really,” Danny continued, “I grew up around my parents tinkering. I couldnʼt help but pick it up. Much easier than studying Literature.”

“But do you actually like it?”

He shrugged. “Iʼm good at it. Isn’t that basically the same thing?”

Jason snorted. “Not at all. You still get to choose.”

Danny turned away, hiding his face. The silence stretched on for a long moment. Then, “So why are you a crime lord instead of a literature professor?”

Jason considered the question. Truthfully it hadn’t considered doing anything but what he did. This life he lived felt a bit inevitable. On his worst days maybe he’d considered giving up, but then his anger would always come snarling back. Anger at Bruce, anger at the Joker, anger at Gotham itself. Fighting was his only reprieve.

Or so he thought, before he met Danny. Before the irrationality of his rage had been doused completely for the first time since his death. For the first time it felt like he had room to consider. Room to choose.

“Gotham needs someone like me. As soon as it doesn’t you can catch me in the lecture hall teaching Jane Eyre.”

Danny considered him with a hint of a smile. “I’ll be sure to register for that credit when you do.”

//

“Gargoyles,” Danny proclaimed one night after theyʼd successfully captured a curse ghost.

Jason replied with an eloquent, “Huh?”

“Thatʼs what they kinda remind me of,” Danny spun the thermos in his hands. “The curse ghosts. They're like really messed up gargoyles.”

Jason thought about it and he was right. The curse ghosts were like if the gargoyles on Gothamʼs buildings had 20% more limbs and teeth and were made of goo instead of stone. Fitting really, for the embodiment of a curse on Gotham.

They perched on the roof of a building not far from an old tire shop where the curse ghost had reared its ugly head. A few gargoyles perched with them, thankfully all stone and completely motionless and definitely not cursed. Shadows crawled across them as occasional car headlights passed in the street below.

“The real question is if they're less nasty or more nasty than other curses you've fought?” Jason didnʼt know if Danny even had fought curse ghosts specifically before, but it seemed likely all things considered.

Danny paused, contemplating. “Every city has ghosts that haunt it. But none as bad as this, at least that I’ve seen. None that have such a distinct form. And none that have had such a strong effect on the living.”

“Arenʼt we special,” Jason grumbled.

Danny chuckled. “Very.”

“Good thing you came here to stop them.”

Danny frowned. “Well. Not exactly. If Stanford had accepted me Iʼd be bumping heads with the ghoulies under Alcatraz, but GU was my next choice.”

Jason’s train of thought came to a skittering halt. Danny wasn’t here to fight these ghosts specifically? He made it seem like taming the curse was the only way to keep Gotham from eating itself inside out. And it was clear that he was the only one actually trying to do something about it. Maybe the only one that could.

“Wait. Fixing the worst curse ever is just what you do in your free time between lectures?” Jason folded his arms.

Danny sighed. “Iʼm not a hero, remember? And I’m trying not to do ghost stuff full time. To do that I need to do human things. Like get a degree.”

“Who says you need a degree?” Jason’s voice pitched up, betraying his incredulity.

“NASA, definitely.” Danny wasn’t looking at him anymore. Instead he tilted his head up to the sky, toward the few stars that dared to poke through the fog.

Jason bit back a laugh. He couldn’t be serious. Crime fighting- ghost hunting- whatever, it wasn’t something that you just did on the side. If there’s one thing Bruce taught him it was that civilian life was an afterthought, a persona that they had to play. Their real life, the life that mattered, was what happened once they donned their masks. And after Jason died he’d been freed from the responsibility of being a civilian at all.

Yet looking at the melancholy on Danny’s face he knew he was being sincere. It struck Jason that Danny had dreams, like real dreams, ones that didn’t involve stopping crime and saving cities and meting out justice.

It twisted something in his stomach. Dreams were a luxury Jason hadnʼt ever been able to afford. Not when he was young and fighting and stealing his way through the streets of Crime Alley. Not when he was fighting beside Bruce, desperately eager to fill the mantle of Robin. Not now, especially not now, when there was only the work of purging the rot from this city. The work that sent him back to the gutters and the alleys night after night, always looking down.

And there Danny was beside him, just as capable of fixing Gotham (or even more capable, he did begrudgingly admit), and it hadnʼt completely consumed him. He was still selfish enough to dream.

He was still looking up at the sky.

A pang of something like hatred smacked at the back of Jason’s teeth, ugly and hot. He couldn’t believe Danny’s selfishness. His naivety. Both incredibly stupid things to have in this line of work. And still Jason felt something else– a rumbling and an ache from the place under his heart. A pulling that tried to stretch across the space between them. He bit his tongue and shoved that feeling down.

//

Later that night when Jason couldn’t sleep he scoured the net for any more hits on Danny. He knew it would be easier if he just asked Tim for help. He bet that little creep could have the full dossier delivered within an hour, everything he wanted to know about Danny Fenton, but that would open Jason up to way more questions than he wanted to deal with. He still needed to keep this as far away from Bruce as possible for as long as possible.

His less than ideal search methods still yielded him a yearbook photo he hadn’t seen yet. The sister Danny mentioned– Jasmine Fenton. Turns out she was attending Stanford, psychology major. Stanford, where Danny could have been instead of Gotham. Fighting some other city’s ghosts. And Jason would have continued to be unaware of and unable to do anything about Gotham’s curse. Or his own.

He turned his attention to digging up anything he could on the Fenton parents. No real estate records, no taxes, not even driver’s licenses. But no death certificates either. Jason didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing. What he did know is that they were equally as erased as their son.

He found himself drifting away from Fenton research and on to the question that nagged at him in a different way– how to predict where the curse ghosts would show up. The data from Danny’s thumb drive was already on his computer and he dutifully logged the coordinates and relevant details from that night’s encounter, another dot among hundreds on the map of Gotham.

Jason had already whittled through all the possible easy connections. Haunted places, typical goon hide outs, historic sites, even fucking ley lines– none of them had enough correlation to be a valuable predictor. Or even a decent lead.

As much as he had practiced taming his frustration, another fruitless night with no answers had him sulking. He felt certain that figuring out the curse ghosts would also help him figure out Danny. And figure out himself. He couldn’t deny that he hadn’t felt even a hint of the Pit’s clawing rage since his nightly escapades with Danny became more frequent. He considered Danny’s offer– to make the fix permanent. And Jason believed him now, that he actually did want to help.

But he couldn’t accept that offer. He wouldn’t. Not until he was sure what it really meant. Maybe if and when they solved the curse problem for good, maybe then he would accept Danny’s help.

But not yet.

//

“Try something for me.”

Danny stopped mid patrol loop of known curse hotspots. Jason followed his gaze and saw a curse ghost rummaging through a demolition site where a condemned apartment once stood.

“Blast it-” Jason pulled a gun, finger ready at the trigger- “Wait!” Danny held up his hands to stop him. “First, see if you can hold the energy back before you release it.”

Danny held his palms out over one another and a ball of familiar green energy formed between them in demonstration. “Let it build up and grow.”

He focused for a moment and the ball grew larger, spun faster. He widened his palms as the ball grew, crackling with potential energy. He let it linger just a moment before— a twist of his wrist and it dissipated.

“I don’t think it works like that for me.”

“Just try it,” Danny cajoled. “I’d be a bad ghost mentor if I didn’t try to teach you how these powers work.”

Jason rolled his eyes. This felt like some kind of test, and the way Danny looked at him with rapt attention all but confirmed that. Did he truly want to help? Or Did he want to gauge how much Jason could push the limits of this power? Still, Jason’s own curiosity won out in the end.

He began by focusing on the feeling he got when he shot his usual energy bullets, allowing it to prickle through his chest and underneath his skin. Rather than let it out immediately, as he’d always done, he did as Danny instructed and held it back. He focused on his pistol. As he did, a small green sphere formed at the end of the gun.

Slowly he fed more energy to it. It grew, just as Danny’s had, spinning faster. His heart accelerated at the same pace, straining against the pull of the power. He gritted his teeth. His head felt hot, like it did when he let his rage get the better of him. Danny’s eyes glinted, reflecting the green glow with impish delight.

The sphere grew to baseball size, then basketball. Then it grew larger than that, so large he couldn’t even see the beast he was aiming at anymore. Danny said simply, “Now.”

Jason pulled the trigger. A massive green fireball exploded out of the end of his pistol, burning across the pile of wreckage. The ghost finally looked up just in time to take the blast directly to its side. It wailed in terrible unearthly tones as the green fire swallowed it.

Danny whooped in triumph. Meanwhile, Jason’s knees wobbled and he fell to all fours in the dirt. He felt suddenly cold, in that terrible clammy way right after a fever breaks.

Danny looked over as if to share the celebration but his face fell as he saw Jason.

“Shit,” he said, kneeling next to him. “You okay?”

“Yeah I— yeah.” Jason panted, swallowing a few dry breaths.

Every time he’d used this power before, he’d let it out instantly, through his guns or his gadgets. He’d never actually let it sit or take the time to feel it properly. Now he wished he hadn’t.

Using that power felt like his worst memories of the Pit, unnatural and cloying like he could still feel the waters dripping off of him. It tasted like grave dirt in his mouth.

But as he raised his head he saw the damage he’d done. There was a fucking crater the size of his living room blasted through the remains of a concrete foundation. No sign of the curse ghost. He did that.

He laughed, all shaky breath. Maybe he could get used to it. He’d have to. He didn’t have a choice but to use it against the curse ghosts. He’d be useless in fights against them otherwise.

“Let’s head back,” Danny offered.

“Yeah.” Jason ignored the small tremor in his hand as he holstered his pistol and started to get his feet back underneath himself.

Jason was halfway to standing when out of nowhere he took a hit. A force crashed into his gut from behind like a cannonball and he barely registered a curse ghost underneath him- it looked like a rhino with way way too many horns- before it flung him ten feet across the demo site and sent him careening into the rubble. He tumbled over broken concrete and snarled rebar, hard-trained muscle memory kicking in to relax his muscles enough to not take the worst of it anywhere he didn’t want to.

He blinked the dizziness from his eyes as he settled. Fuck that hurt. He felt a trickle of blood running down his face. The helmet was padded just enough to protect him from concussions. Didn’t help much with the biological nightmare that was the human nose though. He took the helmet off to keep the blood from pooling in his mouth, leaving him in just his domino mask.

“Jason?” He heard Danny shout.

“Mmfine,” was what he managed to reply as he pushed himself up. It took him a few tries to find his legs. They were still wobbly from the expenditure of power before.

Across the demo field Danny fought the new curse ghost with his usual evasive style. His mouth a hard set line as he ducked beneath swipes from many-angled horns and he responded with blasts of his own, cornering the ghost handily.

Then his gaze landed on Jason and he paused, eyes wide.

His stance went rigid. He snapped around unnaturally fast to face the curse ghost, a total shift from his flighty movements from a moment before. His gaze was sharp, cast in stark shadows from the streetlights, and impossibly, dangerously green. He raised a palm toward the ghost, slowly. And then a nuclear blast went off.

Or at least thatʼs what it felt like. Jason lifted an elbow to shield his eyes from the blinding green light. Surprisingly it wasn’t hot. Instead it felt like the air pressure had been turned up, as if the whole atmosphere was somehow heavier around them, pressing in from all sides, making it harder to breathe.

It lasted only a moment. When Jason lowered his shielding arm there was no sign of the curse ghost. No other damage from the blast either. Just scraps of shadow floating on the wind, dissipating as they rose up.

Danny lowered his hand. A bit of a glow still lingered around him like a halo, a silver outline that shimmered on top of his skin. Jason’s heart raced drunkenly as he stayed rooted to his spot. He wasn’t sure he trusted his legs to move. Danny still looked at the empty space where the ghost had been, his gaze still burning with an overwhelming power. One that Jason was very thankful to not have directed at him. Still, something stirred in his chest like a tug on a wire. The sweet sharp tang of adrenaline saturated his fear. He wasn’t sure if he could stomach that oppressive attention, but a reckless part of him craved it.

Then Danny shifted his stance again. He seemed to shrink back into himself, the glow dimming to a level that passed as human. He turned to Jason with something like guilt on his face, no hint of the commanding presence he held a moment earlier.

“Are you okay?” Danny spoke gently, but his fists were still clenched.

“Yeah. Yeah Iʼm fine,” Jason replied before he even really took stock of his injuries, but as he did he saw he hadn’t lied. The bleeding from his nose had mostly stopped. It hadnʼt been that bad in the first place.

“I think thatʼs enough for tonight.” Danny breathed, finally, releasing the last of his tension. He wouldnʼt meet Jasonʼs eyes.

It had been a while since anyone had saved him. He didn’t have anyone who watched his back, hadn’t for a long time. Strictly speaking, tonight he would have been fine even without the save. Probably.

While he was thankful that Danny covered his ass, it also annoyed him that he thought he had to.

“Thanks,” he grumbled, and then finally Danny looked at him with soft attention.

“You’re sure you’re okay? If it’s a concussion-“

“I’m fine,” Jason said, using his thumb to brush away the drying blood under his nose.

Danny just looked at him with naked concern, his fingers twitching like he didn’t know what to do with them, mouth pressed in a firm line. He took a breath as if to voice another worry but Jason cut him off with a resigned sigh.

“Look, if you're so worried why donʼt you come back to mine.” If it got Danny to stop nagging he didn’t mind burning a safehouse.

Danny nodded, mutely accepting the invite.

Jason led him back to his latest safehouse, a corner loft of an abandoned building, only accessible by rooftop. The walk there had proved that Jason wasn’t hurt bad, though Danny’s eyes kept going back to the blood on his face.

Once inside, Danny sat down on the couch. It was the only real piece of furniture in the house besides his half-broken bed. Jason felt less like a shitty host because truly it was equally as dingy as the one in Danny’s own apartment.

“Want a beer?” Jason asked from the kitchen, as he finished up rummaging his way through some makeshift first aid. The slapdash brace on his nose wasn’t his finest work, but eh. It would heal fine. It always did.

“You drink?” Danny seemed suspiciously surprised. “For me the accelerated healing makes any normal alcohol consumption pretty pointless.”

Jason froze with his hand on the fridge. “Oh. Huh.” That would explain why he had to down a whole handle and a half to feel anything. “No shit.”

Zombie-like he pulled a six pack out of the fridge. He set it down on the coffee table in front of Danny as he fell onto the couch next to him.

A part of him had still not fully believed the whole half ghost thing. Fighting ghosts was one thing. Being one was another. The tech helped maintain the illusion quite well- he had ghost power cuffs that made him invisible and ghost power socks that let him float. That explanation was easy to swallow.

But no gadget could explain why wounds that should take weeks to recover from only took him days. Couldn’t explain why he didn’t get drunk.

But there was a good explanation. A simple one too.

He wasnʼt fully human.

Shit.

Jason grabbed a beer from the coffee table, popped it with his thumb, and downed it in one long pull.

“Batman doesnʼt like metas in Gotham.” He didn’t look at Danny. He wasn’t really even talking to him. He tossed the beer bottle to the floor.

“Weʼre not metas,” Danny said, a gentle echo of what he’d said the first night they met.

“It doesn’t matter. Meta, supernatural, itʼs all the same. All are a dangerous liability in this city. You- we- count.” Jason opened another beer. Downed it. Waited to feel any hint of the alcohol hitting him. Nothing.

He could, however, feel Danny looking at him. “Iʼm not afraid of Batman.”

Jason didnʼt look back. He fiddled with the empty beer bottle, tossed it on the floor with the other one. Of course Danny wasnʼt afraid of Batman. Jason had no doubts which way that fight would go if it ever came to it.

That was an awful image to consider– Batman getting his ass handed to him by some nobody punk in jeans– and all the more reason that Bruce should never know about any of this. The curse ghosts, Danny, Jason’s own burgeoning ghost powers- more secrets he had to keep. More reasons to keep all the Bats at arm's length.

And if they ever did find out? No way their shaky truce could weather that. It’d be another war.

“Heʼs- well, they all are I guess- kind of my family. All Iʼve got left of one, anyway.” The words spilled out. He didn’t want a war with them. He never had.

Danny let out a long breath. “Oh. Family.” He laughed a sad laugh. “My parents tried to kill me. Multiple times actually. I donʼt blame them– theyʼre ghost hunters and well, they looked at me and saw a ghost.”

Danny reached for a beer. He pulled out two and handed one to Jason. He took it. “So at least it canʼt be as bad as that with yours?”

Jason grumbled. “Judging by how it went the first time I came back from the dead? It will be an absolute shitshow.”

Danny clinked his beer against Jasonʼs and took a long swig. “I dunno. I think Bruce might come around if you give him a chance.”

Jason straightened his spine, suddenly alert, alarm bells ringing in his head. “Bruce?”

Danny deflated, suddenly sheepish. “Ah. Whoops.”

That all but confirmed it. Jason groaned. Just when he thought it couldn’t get worse, Danny somehow knew one of Gotham’s most dangerous secrets. “How did you find out?”

“You can probably guess.” Danny rubbed the back of his neck. “It wasnʼt hard with a little ghostly snooping. It was one of the first things I did when I got to Gotham. I wanted to know just to double avoid him, honest.”

It wasnʼt hard to imagine any number of ways Danny could have uncovered Batman’s identity. Heʼd recognized Jason with and without his mask, but he figured that was because Danny had a sense for ghosts and, well, whatever he was. He hadnʼt considered how easy unmasking the Batman would be for him even without that trick.

“If he finds out you know, you’re dead.”

“I already am. Besides, I thought Batman had a strict no-kill policy?”

Ultimately this changed very little. Just another nail in the coffin of the strict Batman avoidance protocol. Still, he wished Danny would be a little less blase about the whole thing.

Fuck it. In for a penny, he couldn’t un-learn all the ghost shit that had turned his life upside down. He downed the beer. Danny was right the first time. It didnʼt matter what Bruce thought. He couldnʼt stop them from fighting curse ghosts. And it was truly none of his business. Danny sipped his beer with a grimace. Jasonʼs heart twisted.

“How do you stand the taste of this stuff?” Danny asked, a hint of a smile.

“It’s not about the taste. It's about the feeling.” Or lack of one. Jason thought maybe he felt the slightest tingle of tipsiness, but it could just be placebo.

Danny looked at him with that same casual intensity. He could tell his eyes lingered on his half-broken nose. Still worrying over him. Why? Why did he care if Jason got hurt? Jason stared back, trying to get a read on any of the real thoughts behind Danny’s eyes.

The silence stretched out, wide open.

Danny broke it first. “Sorry, uh. I guess I should get going.”

Jason took a beat and remembered how to breathe. “You good? Donʼt drink and fly.”

“I donʼt feel a thing,” Danny smirked. “Still, Iʼll walk.”

“You sure? You could always just crash here tonight.” The words spilled out of him before he could think better of it. He and Danny both froze, like the air has been sucked from the room. He stared at the empty six pack on the coffee table, swatting away any thoughts that dared surface, fighting the rising heat in his cheeks and desperately trying to keep his face blank.

“Itʼs okay,” Danny said finally, quietly releasing Jason from his turmoil. “Iʼll see you tomorrow?” Jason dared a look at Danny then. Warmth in his half smile like a sweater, a glint in his eye that made him feel lightheaded.

Danny stood and left, closing the door gently behind himself. Jason breathed out into the empty apartment. It felt suddenly cavernous and dead without Danny in it.

It shouldn’t mean anything but it did. Friends crashed on each other’s couches regularly, didn’t they? Jason didn’t have much experience with friends, if that’s what he and Danny were. This invitation certainly crossed that threshold. But he’d been careless. All the unknowns were still dangerous. He couldn’t let this be more than a working relationship. A partnership of convenience.

He pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose. Pain, tender and sharp, sprung up beneath them. He sighed at the comforting familiarity of it. Then he flopped face first onto his bed, alone.

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