#but if they were to have stayed together afterwards neither of them would have been given the chance to grow into the people they needed to

[yuwuta]

RODEO STATION, 2 — MEGUMI FUSHIGURO

A collection of you and Megumi through the years, through Gojo’s eyes. 

content, warnings: childhood friends to lovers, canon-adjacent, satoru adopts megumi and tsumiki, reader has a cursed technique sort of delved into here

word count: 2.2k

part ii: you and megumi are ten, tsumiki is eleven, gojo is twenty-ish?, about six or seven months after gojo meets all of you, and adopts megumi and tsumiki. you can read part one here

The moment that Satoru met him, he knew that Megumi was a little troublemaker and there was little he could do to stop that. Satoru didn’t mind for the most part, and he couldn’t blame the kid either—honestly, he was more surprised that Megumi didn’t routinely get himself into more trouble, but he supposes he has you and Tsumiki to thank for that. 

He’d naively believed that you and Tsumiki both played the role of anchoring maternal figure for Megumi, but it only takes a few weeks for Satoru to learn that it’s Tsumiki that serves as the anchor for you two. Satoru then earnestly wonders if you were bullying Megumi with the way you’re able to keep him under your thumb, but when Megumi adamantly refutes this with the nastiest, most offended scowl Satoru’s ever seen on a kid before, he backs off and reasons that this is just how your relationship with Megumi works.

And, as it turns out, Megumi is the only one doing any sort of bullying. He’s ten and Satoru has been to more parent-teacher conferences than any other parent has ever possibly attended in their lifetime. He didn’t even know that it was possible for kid his age to get kicked out of school, especially at this point in the year. There’s only three months left until summer vacation, so Satoru enlists Ieiri’s help in enrolling Megumi into public school to finish out fifth grade. She also reassures him that this separation from you and Tsumiki is temporary, and that you would all be able to attend middle school together again in the fall. 

The major problem then becomes that you all get dismissed at different times. You and Tsumiki used to end your days at the same time, but Tsumiki starts staying late to take piano lessons. However, this is remedied by the mother of a friend of Tsumiki’s, who drives her home afterwards; an older woman that Satoru becomes eternally grateful for. Even so, you’re dismissed thirty minutes before Megumi, and some shuffling has to be done to align your commutes. Satoru knows that the three of you took yourselves to and from school before he came into the picture, and that most kids your age are more than capable getting home on their own, but after you told him that some old man from the Kamo clan came to talk to you after school one day, he can’t help but to worry. 

Satoru isn’t your guardian, not in the way that he is for Megumi and Tsumiki, but that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t feel responsible for you—morally, financially, emotionally, and more importantly, for his own safety because he knows he’d have both Divine Dogs biting at his ankles if something curse-related happened to you and he didn’t do anything to stop it. 

You were currently under the care of your elderly great aunt who hadn’t a shred of cursed energy from what Satoru could tell. He had Principal Yaga do a background check, and found no other sorcerers in your immediate family, nor any traceable Kamo relatives, and more importantly, you didn’t possess any sort of Blood Manipulation technique. Satoru’s seen what you can do so far to control water, has even seen you give the Divine Dogs trouble in a gentle sparring match—you’re impressive, even at your young age, so he can understand why a powerful clan might see the potential in you, but the Kamo clan isn’t historically welcoming of outsiders. If you’re not related to them, he can’t fathom why any member would physically approach you. 

The old man never revealed his name to you, but Satoru’s certain it’s either a clan elder, or the current head himself; neither of which bring him any comfort. In the spirit of their traditional ways, he doubts anyone would actually try to harm you out in the open, but Satoru still wants to keep you on close watch for a little while. He thinks he’s the best man for the job. He’s quickly proven otherwise. 

He exorcises curses with a bit of hastiness and little tact in order to be there when you get dismissed from school. Ieiri says it’s creepy to follow you from a distance, but Satoru is just doing what he can to protect you. If somebody else is following you, he wants to see who they are. They’ll never approach or reveal themselves if he hovers next to you, and if you half the pride that Megumi has, you’d run him out of town if he ticked you off by playing overprotective big brother—so, instead, he positions himself far enough away to observe you, and close enough to defend if need be. 

He never needs to. 

For as wild and boisterous as you are with Megumi and Tsumiki, you follow a simple, quiet after school routine. You walk with Tsumiki and her friends to the west gate to drop them off at piano practice, then cross the street to buy a snack—this differs, but you always get a carton of strawberry milk—and then walk to the train station. It’s a ten minute walk from your school to the station, and a fifteen minute walk from Megumi’s school to the station, which is why Satoru doesn’t quite know how the kid manages to keep you waiting for only seven minutes on average when he already gets out of school thirty minutes after you. 

Once he gets over the initial shock, he can’t help but to be amused. He knows that when Megumi first changed schools, he started meeting you on the train, two stops later—at the one closer to his new school. But in the last week, Megumi has walked himself seventeen blocks east, at what Satoru guesses must be an inhuman pace, just to meet you at the station closest to you. 

When two weeks have passed since the unknown Kamo elder has contacted you, and no other incidents have occurred, Satoru resigns his position as perimeter watchdog. He has a bunch of missions to catch up on anyway, and he figures that you and Megumi are safe in each other’s care for now. 

A few weeks later, after catching up on his assignments, Satoru decides to check back in. He knows he doesn’t have to, but something in his stomach is telling him to. Maybe it has to do with the fact that the curse he fought earlier today had some kind of toxic blood that has him thinking the worst could happen to you, or getting a call that Megumi had been cutting some of his classes, or that he’s tired and delusional and worried and scared, or maybe it’s just his blooming maternal instincts telling him something is wrong, but he rushes to spy on your commute home. 

He’s late. Megumi isn’t with you, and you’re already on the train when he makes it to the station and he can sense two sources of cursed energy trailing way too close behind you just as the train doors shut. His mind is racing irrationally—is this an unusual move by the Kamo clan, or perhaps someone else? Word had certainly gotten around that he’d picked up Toji Fushiguro’s kid, plus another kid with immense cursed potential, and Satoru himself and the Gojo clan have more than enough enemies. Whatever it may be, he doesn’t take his chances, using his newly honed short-range teleportation skills to make it to the next station before the train can. 

He’s panting, thinking about every worst possible scenario at once, wondering how to best deal with whoever or whatever was targeting you, especially in such a crowded place, wondering if you’re safe, if Megumi was safe—why wasn’t he with you? Has someone already gotten to him, too? Was Tsumiki even at piano practice? Oh god, if he hasn’t already been kidnapped, Megumi is totally going to kill him if something happens to you. 

Satoru rushes onto the train as soon as the door opens, eyes wildly scanning for you through the crowd, ready to strike when he finally finds you—seated towards the back of the car, reading the book that Tsumiki had loaned to you, quietly, and both the black and white Divine Dogs sitting on either side of you. 

And Satoru has to laugh at himself. If he’d stopped for even a moment (or if he’d gotten more than two hours worth of sleep in the past three weeks trying to make up all his assignments), he’d have recognized Megumi’s residuals, would have recognized the energy of the dogs, and would have pieced together that there wasn’t a single threatening aura in the vicinity. 

Oopsies. 

“Gojo?” you call to him, not too loud as to not to disturb everyone else’s commute. “How come you’re here?” 

Satoru shuffles through the crowd and holds onto the overhead rail once he’s next to you. The white dog moves to settle underneath your short legs, blinking at him with disinterest. “Got off a little early today, thought I’d surprise you brats, that’s all,” he says, then motions to the dogs next to you, “Where’s Megumi?” 

You blink at him. Satoru knows you probably don’t believe him, but you spare him the embarrassment when you don’t push it further. “He had to make up a credit today, so he’s getting on at the next stop. Do you want a sandwich? They only had ones with peppers today, so Megumi won’t eat it, but Mr. Teuchi gave me two, anyway.” 

“What, is he allergic or something?” Satoru questions, accepting your offer, and the seat next to you when he starts to unwrap the sandwich. 

“No, he’s just picky,” you tell him, closing your book to unwrap yours, too. You’re quiet, taking your first two bites, before you turn to him again, “How did you know Megumi was missing?”

Satoru chokes. It gains him a few concerned stares, and even a pointed ear from the black dog, before he regains his composure. “Um... he tells me usually he follows you home from the other stop, that’s why.” 

“Then why didn’t you try to surprise us at the other stop?”

Satoru pauses again. Since when did ten year olds get so lippy and observant? “I did, but I was late. So I sort of,” Satoru leans down, crinkling the empty sandwich wrapper in his right hand and uses his left to beckon you towards him to whisper, “Teleported here.” He pulls back, prideful, and crosses his legs, “Pretty cool, right?” 

“So, why didn’t you just teleport to the first station when you realized you were going to be late?” You question, mocking his whispering tone when you repeat the word. 

“Hey, you think doing that kind of stuff comes automatically? I can’t just pop up anyplace at any time,” Satoru groans, a bit overdramatically, “Not yet, anyway. I’ll be able to do that soon.” 

You hum, kicking your legs happily as you take another bite out of your snack. “I think I get it. Megumi says it’s hard spreading out and controlling your cursed energy over long distances, but he’s been practicing hard. He can send the dogs way far away from him now.” 

“I see,” Satoru turns his chin down, eyeing the Divine Dogs with a gentle smile. He almost says that it’s easier to send shikigami on their own, especially those like Megumi’s, and particularly when you anchor them to another source of cursed energy such as yourself, but you look way too proud of Megumi for him to burst your bubble. He also declines to say that Megumi probably doesn’t send the dogs to you on days like this just for the sake of practicing. 

A crush isn’t quite exactly the motivation Satoru pictured when he told Megumi he’d have to work hard and get strong, but whatever works, works. 

Ten minutes later, the train comes to a steady halt. Megumi is the first new passenger on board, and unlike Satoru, he doesn’t need to turn his head wildly, every which way to find you. You’re like a beacon to Megumi, he easily finds the both of you in the last seats in the car, and steadily makes his way to you. 

Megumi greets you before he greets Satoru, taking the seat across and facing you before he turns to the taller man with a much less receptive frown, “What are you doing here?” 

“I believe the word you’re looking for is hello, Megumi,” Satoru teases, reaching across to ruffle his already unruly hair. Megumi grumbles, batting his offending hand away.

“Gojo ate your sandwich,” you chirp. 

“What?” Satoru yells, incredulous, “I did not. You gave it to me—tell him!” 

You have much more fun watching Satoru scramble than defending his honor. It’s only when Satoru gives his best pout that you admit to Megumi that you offered up his sandwich, consoling him with the fact that it included his least favorite ingredient and making it up by pulling out two cartons of strawberry milk for him. Megumi accepts them both with quiet thanks, cheeks growing pink to match the cartons, and you smiling widely when he takes his first sip. 

Satoru had a hunch those were for Megumi. So, this isn’t one-sided. Good for you kids. 

It’s another twenty-six minutes before it’s time for you all to get off the train. The Gojo-Fushiguro residence and your great aunt’s house are in opposite directions, but are both just a short five minute journey from the station exit. One you can certainly make on your own, and still, Megumi insists that you let the dogs walk with you and that he’ll release them once you’re home. 

“It’s good practice,” Megumi mumbles, shooing you on your way uphill, “I want to know how long I can keep them out, too.” 

You have that same look on your face that you had earlier, like you don’t quite believe Megumi, but just as with earlier, you don’t say anything, sparing Megumi and Satoru a formal goodbye and a wave before heading home. Satoru and Megumi turn to walk back to their own house, he can’t help but to smile every time Megumi turns his head to look back at your silhouette. 

Satoru decides that you’re not Megumi’s anchor, you’re the lighthouse that guides him to shore, a light that he follows with faith and reason; a safe haven that Megumi seeks to protect. Satoru can admire that, but he wonders what happened that could make the most unruly kid he knows pledge his allegiance like that. Megumi would have refused Satoru’s aid if he hadn’t agreed to let you stay in his life, and although he’d chalked it up to puppy love before, Satoru’s beginning to wonder if there’s anything he, or anyone, even could do to separate the two of you. 

Likely not, he concludes, when two weeks later, your class goes on a field trip and Megumi is the one who comes home exhausted and crashes onto the couch immediately. When Satoru asks, all he gets is a tired grunt; but shortly after Megumi falls asleep, he can feel a few extra shadows at his feet, and a glimpse of the white dog before she completely vanishes into the darkness. 

Satoru chuckles, leaning down to ruffle Megumi’s hair before heading to the kitchen to make a snack for Tsumiki. If this is the rate that Megumi trains to keep his loved ones protected, then Satoru has no worries about him getting strong enough to keep up with him.

[starry-bi-sky]

Childhood Friends Danny and Jason

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

Now on ao3 :) (and with a response and a third one)

AND ALSO A REMASTERED VERSION THAT YOU SHOULD TOTALLY GO CHECK OUT BECAUSE I WORKED VERY HARD ON IT.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They... sort it out eventually.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The wriggly protective thing settles in his chest.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bruce refuses, his face full of grief.

Danny never returns to Gotham.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It was the Joker." Jason says.

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

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

Not died. Killed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not Dick?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

———————

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

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

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

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

Tim responds quickly, and his message sends.

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

Dick: they are funny

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

Tim: hey Jason are you not gonna say anything?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jason: that’s danny?

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

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

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

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

Tim: how would you know that?

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

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

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

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

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

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

———————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He misses Jason. He misses Jason.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s already begun to move towards the door.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He frowns. And says nothing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[wileys-russo]

childhood sweethearts (13) II a.russo x reader

playlist one two three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven twelve

childhood sweethearts (13) II a.russo x reader

the next few weeks seemed to pass by in a blur and before you knew it you'd blinked and it was the end of the month already.

you and alessia went from only texting when you needed something to texting every day, and then calling most nights if you weren't together, speaking about everything and nothing for hours, stomachs often aching from how hard you'd make one another laugh.

you appreciated the way she seemed genuinely interested in your job, asking questions and listening along intently as you recounted your days.

it surprised you to learn that if she wasn't a footballer she might have pursued teaching, though some of the horror stories you'd spun her about your time at uni and on placement steered her well away from that.

your heart warmed seeing how good she was with the kids when she did the friday football program, well all of the arsenal girls were, and with the program a raging success an agreement had been made between the arsenal academy and the school to offer discounted holiday programs for during the break.

you'd gone to see every single one of her games since the last, alessia's heart bursting to see you sat up with her family every weekend with her jersey on and her last name across your shoulders cheering her on just like old times.

and you were even learning to actually enjoy the game, though thats not to say you still wouldn't groan and complain when alessia would flick on a premier league game to watch after dinner occasionally.

her brothers had relentlessly teased her for it but she brushed them off, trying not to take to heart the jokes that if she didn't lock you down soon someone else might beat her to it.

neither of you had dared to broach that conversation just yet.

her mum was thrilled to see how close the two of you had become again, her parents picking you up most games or taking you out for a drink with them all beforehand, and always inviting you to family dinners afterwards.

and in turn your own mum insisted on both of your families coming together again like old times, and it filled you with joy to see how much time she spent with carol once more.

with the short distance between both of your apartments it seemed to become a routine of sorts that every couple of days one of you would drop by to see the other.

nights were spent taking turns cooking for one another, watching movies or sometimes just talking for hours until you'd both realise the time and need to hurry back home.

alessia had been wanting to ask you to stay the night for a little while now, but not wanting to push things too early on and just enjoying your company in anyway she could she'd hold her tongue every time you'd start to pack your things back up to leave.

but you'd always be sure to walk one another home which inevitably ended in the two of you kissing goodnight, and unbeknownst to alessia every single time you did you had to hold your own tongue not to ask her to stay.

you were yet to put a label on anything, and most of your 'dates' seemed to consist of cosy nights in, nothing super fancy or high maintenance.

you'd not clocked any sort of issue with it either, having known the girl for years it seemed almost silly to even feel the need to go out, much preferring how comfortable the two of you were around one another now you were both clearly trying to get things back on track.

well you didn't see an issue, not until rory opened her mouth one afternoon.

"wait you've not gone out? watching movies together or cooking dinner isn't a date!" your best friend rolled her eyes from where she lounged on your bed, having come over to help you with your quarterly closet clean out.

"anything can be a date if its with the right person!" you argued, holding up a dress to your body as her eyes narrowed and she pointed to the keep pile. "maybe once you're actually dating, but last time i checked the two of you were still dancing around that big question!" you blushed a little at her words and threw a cardigan at her.

"oh this is cute! can i have this?" you chuckled but nodded as she dropped it into the 'rory' pile which you knew was mainly the only reason she'd offered her 'help'.

"but anyway. if its classed as a 'date' it needs to be a bit more than just the two of you lounging about one of your apartments, thats just hanging out and one could argue that would be something strictly platonic!" rory pointed as you sighed at her dramatics.

"we make out, thats not platonic." you shot back with a glare as she ooohed. "and do you braid each others hair and swap secrets too?" the girl cooed as you threw a heel at her head causing her to shriek.

"sorry ro and how many relationships have you been in? oh just one? shut up!" you flipped her off and turned back to your clothes. "okay if anything its because i am in a long term committed happy and healthy relationship i can call this behavior out." rory started, pushing herself to sit up more.

"the two of you are acting like a) just best friends hanging out, or b) an old married couple. neither of which i know you want to be! you're both in your early twenties you should be going out and spending time together doing fun stuff! not curled up watching the same movies you've loved since you were teenagers. at least go to the cinema and see something so you leave the house!" rory tossed a pillow at you which you side stepped.

"so what i should ask her out to do something then?" you asked with a small frown, playing with the sleeves of your hoodie, which was actually alessia's hoodie. "yes! do exactly that. not that i can really blame you for not wanting to go anywhere super public with her but theres loads of stuff you can do to get around that." rory shrugged.

"what do you mean you can't blame me for not wanting to go anywhere super public with her?" you questioned with an air of confusion. "well because she's a fucking celebrity you head case!" rory laughed at you.

that took you off guard as you paused your sorting, moving to take a seat on the edge of the bed with a frown. "well shes not really a celebrity, shes not like an actor or anything." you challenged more so for your own sake.

"please! elite athletes can be just as famous as actors or singers or whatever, if anything even more so because they're more relatable to the general public. for god sakes she's won the euros and made the finals of a world cup you idiot!" another pillow smacked you in the side of the head as you shot the girl a glare.

"she also does sponsorships, ads, she's a branded athlete with adidas, she has a management agency, she's on a professional contract with a huge salary no doubt, and she plays on a global stage for fucking england!" rory ticked off on her fingers with a scoff.

"well yeah but-" you fell quiet at that, head ticking over as it dawned on you that rory was right. "come on just look at her instagram! as if you don't notice the thousands of people obsessing over her." rory chuckled pulling out her phone.

"i hardly use it! case in point you have to text me to like your posts." you rolled your eyes as rory moved to lay down shoving her phone in your face.

"see? she's got like nearly a million followers and look at how many people interact with her posts. she probably gets like a hundrd dm's a day of randoms asking her out, maybe even from other celebrities!" rory laughed nudging her shoulder into you.

"see she met david fucking beckham and it looks like he's the fan in the picture!" rory gasped clicking into one of alessia's more recent posts.

you knew rory didn't mean anything bad by all of this but as you scrolled through the hundreds on hundreds of comments on alessia's posts you chest tightened with an uncomfortable anxiety you'd not felt before.

"god and then theres tiktok and twitter and whatever else. i liked one video about less and it took me days to get rid of the edits of her on my feed." rory shook her head with a grin, grabbing back her phone off you and switching apps.

"see?" she searched up alessias name on tiktok and your eyes widened even further as she scrolled through the hundreds of edits. "jesus christ she is a celebrity." you exhaled, pushing rorys phone away and collapsing onto your back, moving so your head rested on your best friends thigh.

"well duh, what did you think? she's that same little ten year old playing for the school team with all the boys?" "no! i hadn't really thought about it is all. to me she's just...well she's just alessia."

"and that is very sweet of you but also very naive. i don't know how i'd cope if jack was getting that many girls in his comments, thank god he's just a measly banker." rory joked but at her teasing words you felt a stabbing sensation at your chest.

"but hey what have you got to worry about? all they can do is wish, you've already got the girl." rory shrugged tapping on your forehead as you simply hummed, caught up in your head.

did you have nothing to worry about?

~

you looked up from the pan of vegetables you were frying off hearing a knock at your door, lowering the heat and quickly washing your hands.

"hi lessi." you greeted the blonde as you pulled open the door, stepping aside as she hurried in, the weather below zero this week as she shivered.

"hello, aren't you a sight for sore eyes." alessia sighed happily, your lips meeting sweetly as she pulled your body into hers. "mm no one more." the blonde grinned pecking your lips a few more times making you smile.

"dinners almost done. how was training?" you left her to unravel herself from her many layers as you returned to the kitchen, hearing her join you shortly after.

"this morning? yeah it was good! nutmegged leah like ten times, she was fuming." alessia grinned taking a seat at the bench. "thats when you kick it through someones legs right?" you asked, moving the sauce off the heat.

"sure is, look whose learning. maybe we can get you into a sunday league team next!" alessia winked teasingly as you playfully rolled your eyes. "yeah you'd love that wouldn't you." you grabbed her out a bottle of water from the fridge.

"then i had a shoot this afternoon for adidas, that was fun. i just get awkward in front of the camera but the photographer was really nice!" alessia shrugged casually, taking a long swig of water as you hummed, that weird feeling from yesterday returning as you tried to push it away.

"one to ten, how hungry?" you questioned, two bowls in front of you as you grabbed the rice, having made a stir fry.

"mmm like a six? had a late lunch, some meeting with some magazine about some article. luca said we probably won't go forward with it, they've got a reputation for twisting peoples words to create drama that isn't there." alessia recounted as you again only hummed, a slight frown on your face as you dished up.

"thank you gorgeous." the taller girl leaned in to kiss you in appreciation as you handed her the bowl, eyebrows furrowing a little as you turned your head so her lips met your cheek instead.

brushing it off assuming you were probably just tired after a long week she followed after you into the living room. "no!" you warned as she went to sit on the lounge, lowering herself instead to the floor with a roll of her eyes.

"it was one time." the blonde huffed with a pout as you handed her a small handful of napkins, having knocked over a bowl of soup all over your lounge last week. "one time was enough." you smiled taking a seat beside her.

"get a dining table then and we wouldn't have this problem." alessia pinched your cheek as you mocked her and flicked on the tv. "less!" you complained as she plucked the remote from your fingers, flipping channels.

"nooo." you groaned in realization as she put on a mens game, manchester united playing against some other team you didn't know, only recognising the familiar uniform of the russo's childhood team.

"yesss." alessia mocked happily, sighing as she placed a mouthful of stir fry in. "this is really really good, thank you baby." the girl kissed your cheek again as a comfortable silence fell between the two of you as you ate.

it was during this time that alessia picked up maybe there was something going on with you. normally you'd spend the entire game either making comments, asking questions, complaining about how long halves were or teasing her for 'yelling at the players like they can hear you'.

but long after the two of you had finished eating you were still quiet, eyes not even on the tv as you seemed a little lost in your own world. "hey." you snapped out of it as a warm hand squeezed your knee, looking up into a pair of concerned bright blue orbs.

"you alright?" alessia asked, hand still on your knee as you nodded. "i'm fine babe." you forced a tight lipped smile, gently pushing off her hand and grabbing your empty bowls. alessia watched you go with a frown, now almost certain something was going on for you.

initially she didn't want to force it out of you, but as you both sat up on the sofa now and you subtly shuffled a little further away from her alessia couldn't hold her tongue any longer.

"you don't want to finish it? they're up by two!" you frowned at her as she turned the tv off, turning her body to face you. "i know you said you're fine, but i can tell somethings up." alessia started, reaching out for you as you flinched away.

"see! have i done something?" the girl asked as worry flashed across her face and you shook your head. "no no its just-" you struggled to get out your words, groaning and dragging your hands down your face.

"fucking rory." you muttered cursing out your best friend for causing this swirling sea of doubt in your mind. "you're fucking rory?" alessia misunderstood, pulling her hands back with a frown as again you shook your head.

"no! god no, disgusting." you pulled a face of disgust as alessia breathed out in relief. "its not something you've done, well not...directly?" you winced as the frown returned to the strikers face. "i don't understand."

"okay, well can i ask you something?" "of course." "do you consider yourself a celebrity?"

"thats...a loaded question." alessia exhaled as she thought it over. "i don't personally think about myself in that way but i can see why i'd be perceived that way." alessia answered after a moment to contemplate.

"but why do you ask?" alessia asked both concerned and curious as to where this was coming from. "its stupid." you huffed, falling down onto your back as alessia grabbed your ankles, pulling your legs to rest over your lap, relaxing when you made no move to pull away.

"if its bothering you its not stupid, please." the striker requested softly as you sighed. "well rory was talking to me about how its weird we don't ever go out on dates, and then she made some comment about understanding why i wouldn't want to because you're a celebrity." you paused as alessia nodded for you to continue.

"then she showed me your instagram and tiktok and there was just so many comments and i promise i don't dismiss any of your achievements but i guess i never really took a moment to realise just how many other people appreciated them too." you frowned as everything rolled through your mind.

"see! its stupid. of course you're going to get thousands of comments and fans and edits, you're an international football superstar." you threw your hands up, cheeks burning up a little.

"you jealous of all the fangirls love?" alessia teased as insecurity flashed across your face and she quickly realised that was the wrong thing to say.

"hey no i'm sorry, look at me." soft hands grabbed yours and tugged you to sit up. "first of all, its not stupid." alessia promised sincerely, eyes not leaving yours.

"but it is something we have to speak about, and probably should have already spoken about." alessia sighed in realisation, taking your hands into hers again. "social media is...complicated. people think they know me or i owe them something just because im a public figure." alessia started with a frown.

"every little thing i post gets picked apart whether its of me, a holiday, a place, a friend, my family, anything. people find out which cafes i go to for coffee and show up there hoping to see me, follow me to restaurants when i post im out eating with friends, take sneaky videos when im out in public and post them. it can get very invasive and a lot of people have no concept of privacy or boundaries!" alessia warned as you nodded slowly.

"so i guess if we..." alessia gestured between the two of you with a wince as you nodded to show you understood what she was saying. "...then thats something you'll have to know is there. its not going away, if anything the more tournaments i play in, ads i do, sponsors i get, interviews, articles, club trophies, the attention and the fans and the eyes will grow." alessia spoke firmly, still keeping a hold on your hands.

"but i'm not trying to scare you, i just need you to know that its there. i would always do my best to protect you but some things are out of my hands and out of my control, i can't stop what people think, post, say, much as i wish i could." alessia sighed, bringing your hand up to her mouth to kiss your palm.

"please say something." alessia laughed but it was clearly full of nerves, her face falling as you gently pulled your hands out of hers. "its just, this is all very new. i know you're still you, but i guess the thought of having thousands of people all watching everything you do and picking it apart or obsessing over you and wanting you in comments is overwhelming." you admitted, biting your bottom lip as alessia nodded.

"i know. it overwhelms me too but i promise like you said i'm still me, none of this changes that. and if anything ever bothers you like this please just come talk to me about it, i will always listen." alessia promised, relief flooding her body as took her hands again.

"thank you. i'm sorry for being a downer!" you smiled apologetically as the blonde hurriedly shook her head. "never. but you also did raise another very good point!" alessia started as you tilted your head curiously.

"as much as i love our dinners and movies, we've not really been out on a proper date. so can i please take you out on friday night? i'll be at the school for the program anyway so we could go out right after or we could come back and get ready or we could-" you cut her off as you pressed your lips to hers, silencing her worried rambles.

"i'd love to go out on friday lessi."

~

"someones popular today." you bumped your shoulder into alessias as she broke away from your students who'd been clinging to her all afternoon, leah now running a game as she started to break them up into smaller groups.

"i like kids but i do not know how you deal with all the questions! an angel of patience." alessia sighed bumping you back with a smile. "just an angel in general." you teased, catching the girls eyes quickly flicker down to your lips momentarily.

"excuse me miss russo we are in a professional environment, behave yourself." you warned, kissing her cheek quickly when no one was looking and walking off to calm a small argument which had broken out over team names.

"saw that russo." the smile couldn't even be wiped off alessia's face at katies teasing, the irishwoman standing where you previously had as she poked and prodded at the younger girl.

"so when are you bringing your girlfriend to a team night out then?" katie sung out with a grin. "she's not my girlfriend." alessia sighed, smile dropping as katie frowned. "oh, well no one to blame but yourself there. i see the way she looks at you! smitten." the girl clapped her on the back.

"i want to its just, we've got a complicated history." alessia mumbled with a frown. "ah! who doesn't. all ya can do is not repeat past mistakes. i know none of my exes would turn up to a bar to come pick me up wasted out of nowhere!" katie reminded as alessia winced recalling that night.

"god don't remind me, never again." alessia exhaled with a shake of her head. "well then get your girl russo! you'll never know until ya ask." katie shrugged.

"we're going out tonight, i'm gonna take her to that little darts bar its pretty quiet and i think i freaked her out the other day with the whole thousands of fans thing." alessia then explained the conversation you'd had.

"mm yeah, not something i can offer ya any advice on there less. i've always dated the famous ones!" katie winked jokingly, jogging off as the whistle blew.

"did i hear darts bar tonight? i'll tell the girls!" alessia's head whipped around as beth stood behind her, racing off toward leah before alessia could say another word, the girl throwing her head back with a groan.

"alessia! you're on our team!" she was snapped out of it by small hands gripping at her shorts and shirt, tugging her onto the field as she met your eyes on the other side of the oval, a smile sent her way before you returned to your conversation with your coworker.

it wasn't for another hour that alessia was finally able to track you down alone again, and by this time beth had spread the word and the plan was made, far too late for alessia to say a word as katie gave her a sympathetic look.

"hey! can we talk for a second?" you looked up from speaking with chloe, wishing her a good weekend as she walked off and you nodded, gesturing for her to follow after you back into your classroom.

"did you drive here?" you asked as alessia took a seat on top of one of the desks as you started to pack up yours. "no leah gave me a lift."

"perfect, i'll drop you home and then we can get ready separately. i assume you'll want to drive tonight though?" you smiled teasingly, it being no surprise that alessia preferred to be the driver of the two of you.

"look about tonight-" alessia started, watching as you paused, worry flashing across your face for a moment. "i'm not cancelling." the blonde was quick to assure you as you visibly relaxed a litte.

"we just might need to change the plan? beth kind of overheard me talking to katie about it and then assumed it was a group thing and invited a bunch of the girls and its hardly a date if my entire team is there too and-" alessia started to ramble.

"less!" you cut her off as her face blushed red. "i don't mind if the others are there, really. i know you were excited to show me this place, maybe we could just get dinner somewhere else together and then meet them there later?" you suggested as her face lit up.

"yes! god your mind is brilliant." the striker pushed herself up off the desk, her body suddenly pressing yours against your own desk. "well they don't just pay me for my good looks here." you teased, again catching her eyes flicker down to your lips.

"we're still in a professional environment." alessia stated as if to remind herself more than you. "mm i guess i'm off the clock now, its after four." you grinned, hands falling to clasp either side of her face.

"you know i never thought i'd be kissing a teacher in a classroom." alessia tutted, lips curling into a smile as you let out a laugh. "didn't realise this was something you were into? didn't peg you as someone with a teacher kink." you teased, closing the gap between the two of you.

"only if the teacher is you." alessia mumbled against your lips, hands squeezing your hips as you let out a small laugh, pulling away and hugging her tightly, chin resting on her shoulder.

"i'm gonna miss when this program is over. next term its dancing instead of football!" you groaned quietly, feeling her body vibrate with laughter against yours.

"are you trying to dance with me right now?" you laughed as she started to sway the two of you back and forth. "yeah can't you hear the music? would be rude not to." alessia accused sarcastically, pulling you forward a little and taking your hand.

"i seem to remember you used to be a terrible dancer, two left feet." you grinned as she adjusted your hands, one interlocking with hers as the other rested on your hip, yours on the small of her back.

"hey thats not true!" alessia huffed, eyebrows furrowing in offence. "yes it was, remember when you tried to learn the tango to win a bet and-" you were cut off as her lips pressed against yours again. "we promised never to speak of that again." the girl warned mid kiss, starting to dance with you again.

"oh less!" you winced as suddenly she stepped on your foot, eyes widening as she let go of you and stepped back, but her foot catching on the desk she went flying to the ground.

like a domino effect as her body smacked into one of the desks it toppled over, taking down the entire row as alessia winced each time one hit the ground. a moment of silence passed before your body dropped down to the floor, clutching your stomach as waves of laughter ran through you.

"its not funny!" alessia groaned, though after a moment even she couldn't hold back her laughter, the two of you eventually laid down on the floor unable to stop, wiping away small tears which formed as you tried to calm down.

"oh wow, did your students do that?" alessia gasped as she looked up and saw the galaxy of stars all over the roof once the two of you finally calmed a little.

"no i did, makes it way easier to get them to calm down after lunch sometimes. i turn all the lights off and draw the blinds, then i get them all to pick a star and stand under it, close their eyes count to ten and make a wish for the future. works nearly every time!" you smiled fondly, alessia stealing a glance at you.

"its cool the school lets you decorate like this, i wish our classrooms were this colourful and lively. i might have actually paid attention!" alessia shrugged as you kicked her gently. "you did pay attention, just to my work so you could copy off of it." you poked her with a smirk.

"they give us some freedom just no budget, almost all of this is self funded." you explained as alessia's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "wait really?"

"yeah, a lot of the stuff needed to actually run a cohesive program isn't deemed as so. like name tags, the reading books, plants, most of the stationary, the posters, all bought by me. then activities like when we have snacks on movie days, end of term pizza parties, none of thats covered by the department either." you shrugged as if it was no big deal.

"wait so you personally buy all that stuff?" alessia asked in disbelief as you nodded. "well yeah, just because the department doesn't think these kids need this stuff doesn't mean they don't deserve it. a public school education shouldn't set them back on resources and opportunities compared to a private one just because of money, i like to think im doing my bit to mend the gap when i can." you looked back up to the ceiling with a smile.

"what was that for?" you laughed as alessia quickly pecked your lips. "because teachers deserve more money. but i can't help that so i figured a kiss was the next best thing!" alessia grinned cheekily as you grabbed her shirt, pulling her mouth back to meet yours again.

though as she pushed herself up and moved to hover over you, you leapt away from one another at the sound of someone clearing their throat.

but both of you sighed in relief as you realised it was only leah who stood with a smirk and a bunch of flowers in her hand. "sorry to interrupt. but less left these in my car and i wouldn't want to steal them from their rightful recipient." leah spoke as the striker hurried to her feet.

a silent conversation seeming to be had between the two blondes through a series of facial expressions alessia accepted the flowers and leah sent you a smile before leaving, closing the door after her.

"for you." alessia blushed bright red as you stood, accepting them with your own cheeks tinted rosy pink. "they're beautiful." you swooned, placing them on your desk and pulling her into a tight hug.

"well beautiful girls deserve beautiful things."

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

fourteen

[stevie-petey]

at arm's length

You fixed his hair and made a face in the mirror, just to get him to laugh, and you smiled when it worked. “I think you look handsome.” “Yeah, sure.” Steve pushed you away, though his arm stayed loosely wrapped around your side. He had always somehow done this, holding you at arm’s length with a possessiveness to it.  You would come to learn that the possessiveness never really goes away. Not in the way either of you may wish for it to during nights two years from tonight. 

Summary: you and steve found each other when you were eleven; he's held you at an arm's length ever since, suffocating you

Rating: general, suggestive themes

Warnings: toxic relationship, heavy angst, allusions to sex, some stancy, fem!reader, use of y/n, not proofread so pls be kind

Words: 2.9k

Before you swing in: where did this come from ? no clue ! this is pure angst though, no happy ending, all just heartbreak and a very toxic steve. beware. prepare. have fun !

-

Neither of you know how it started.

You aren’t sure when you allowed the lines to be crossed. Steve isn’t sure when he realized he wanted to cross them. 

One night he had simply wanted to crawl through your window.

And, one night, you let him. 

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you always whisper against his skin in between highs and desperation. 

“I know,” he always kisses the patch of skin just below your ear before encasing you, silencing you.

You’re not sure if he kisses the patch of skin as a promise or as an apology. For what he’s putting you through, for the ignored glances in school, for the way his body stills when someone says your name when he’s around, for the way you always see it.

Afterwards, Steve never stays long. He picks up his clothes as the quiet in your room overwhelms him. He feels your eyes follow him in the dark as he gets dressed and you remain in your bed, sprawled out wanting, waiting, mourning. 

There’s never any malice or anger in your eyes when you watch him, and sometimes Steve resents you for it. He wishes you’d make it easier for him to leave. 

Instead you always watch him with interest, a slight glint in your eye as if you know more than he does; Steve wants to mold a crease between your brows and turn your mouth down with his fingers so that your face isn’t as angelic and understanding. 

“Drive safe.”

Your whispered words are the final blow to the thin wall of glass Steve hides behind. You wish him a safe journey home every time he drives to your house to climb through your window and take more from you than he deserves. 

He hates it.

He hates you. 

Yet every night Steve crawls through your window.

And every night you let him in. 

– 

No one knows how it started.

Your friendship with Steve Harrington was an oddity within Hawkins. 

One day the two of you sat down together during lunch in the sixth grade, and the entire middle school cafeteria went quiet. Everyone had stared at you and whispered, wondering who you were and why you were sitting with someone above your rank, someone who ran with kids like Tommy Hagan.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you had mumbled to Steve, tugging at your sweater with an insecurity you can only feel when you’re eleven. 

“I know.” Steve hadn't seemed to feel this same sense of insecurity at eleven as he popped a french fry into his mouth with a shrug, uncaring. “But who cares?”

You remember looking down at your food, embarrassed and unsure about it all. You’d been standing at your locker merely minutes ago as you looked around helplessly, lost in the school your mom had promised you’d enjoy this time. 

Then Steve had found you.

He had been on his way to the lunch room, late to meet up with his friends, when he had seen you. He will always remember the way you’d been holding yourself, then. You were drawn in, looking around the empty hallways with a wonder in your eyes, despite your obvious fear, that Steve had never seen before in someone his age. 

Steve couldn’t help himself. 

He had asked if you were lost and the way your eyes widened at his question made something within him stir. He watched as a blush spread across your cheeks, shy and nervous, and Steve knew then and there that he couldn’t ever leave you alone. There was something in your eyes, in the way you had looked at him in that moment with that same wonder that had made Steve stop in the first place. 

Soon enough everyone in Hawkins Middle watched as your friendship unfolded. 

It was innocent enough, almost imperceptible to those who weren’t paying attention, but everyone knew. 

Steve was never outwardly friendly with you following your first day meeting him, although he was inseparable from you in his own ways. He would walk you to your classes and always sat a few seats behind you so that he could keep an eye on you. Everyone saw how his eyes never left you. 

You never asked why Steve wouldn’t include you with the rest of his friends. He never introduced you to them, yet he made you promise that if they ever said anything to you that you’d tell him. You promised him, swore to him that you would, and the promise seemed to calm something within Steve. 

“Why?” You had asked him afterwards, not understanding why it seemed so important to Steve that you’d tell him if his friends were ever mean to you. 

“Because you’re my friend.” He stood by your locker as he waited for you to gather your books. People walked past the two of you, whispering as they always did, but he had learned how to ignore them.

You remember frowning, feeling a pit forming in your stomach at his words. “But they’re your friends, too.”

“No, they’re not.” Steve scoffed at you and shoved his hands into his jean pockets.

“But you’re always with them.”

He looked down at his scuffed sneakers, then. “They follow me around. I don’t mind it that much, my dad says it makes boys look cool.”

“Your dad?”

Steve will never understand why he had told you about his dad that day, but he would come to learn that you always somehow made him weak against the things that darkened his mind; how you were always the one he confessed to.

“Can we go to class now?”

“Sorry,” you grabbed the last of your books and closed your locker. You smiled at Steve, you will always remember how hard you had tried to calm him down, make him comfortable around you, and you will always remember how you had placed your hand on his arm. “Let’s go to class.”

Steve flinched at your touch, and you would come to learn that touches weren’t something he was accustomed to; how it would be because of you that he learned what it feels like to be warmed by someone’s fingertips. 

– 

Steve isn’t sure when he became King Steve. 

He thinks it was sometime during his freshman year of high school when he shot up a few inches during the summer and grew his hair long. 

It had been your idea, growing his hair out, because you knew he liked it when you played with it.

“I look like a douche, Y/N.” Steve groaned when he had looked in your mirror. Sometime between sixth and seventh grade, he had started going to your house after school and on the weekend. He claimed it was because your mom was always nice to him, but deep down you knew it was because he enjoyed having you to himself. 

You fixed his hair and made a face in the mirror, just to get him to laugh, and you smiled when it worked. “I think you look handsome.”

“Yeah, sure.” Steve pushed you away, though his arm stayed loosely wrapped around your side. He had always somehow done this, holding you at arm’s length with a possessiveness to it. 

You would come to learn that the possessiveness never really goes away. Not in the way either of you may wish for it to during nights two years from tonight. 

But two years ago you leaned into the arm that still held onto you and played with the hair that had only grown long because of you. “I mean it, you know.”

Steve’s eyes met yours in the mirror, and he saw the wonder there again, though now that you were both fifteen with a shared history, the wonder was now accompanied by a fondness that Steve couldn’t bear himself to look into for long. He loved your eyes, he loved the way you looked at him, but it always burned. 

Thick silence had started to crawl in between you two, then. 

Steve had grown a few inches and his jawline had sharpened and his skin evened out. One day, before your very eyes, he had stopped looking like the eleven year old boy who found you in the hallway. As you stared at him in the mirror that night, you realized just how beautiful he had become, and somehow, even then, you knew that this beauty would strangle you.

The silence had started to grip your neck, so you cleared your throat and tried to pretend that nothing had changed, even though everything had changed in that moment. “It’s late, your parents will want you home soon.”

“They probably don’t even notice I’m gone right now, Y/N.” The moment had been broken and Steve now felt the same fury that had been building within him ever since he was eight. The anger threatened to spill over, but Steve had come to learn that his anger only scared you, so instead he had tried to find another way to quiet the waves within his mind. “I have a better idea.”

“Is that so?” 

“I spend the night.” Steve winked at you, he knew that you sensed his brewing anger, and he desperately wanted to reassure you that he wouldn’t ruin this.

You froze, as if you knew even then that this would be a shift within your dynamic with him. You called Steve your best friend at this point, and while he never said so out loud, you were his best friend, too. At school, you didn’t have many friends, but Steve had now become surrounded by both boys and girls, all vying for his attention, and though he still never introduced you to them, you knew even then that you were the most important person in his life. 

As your eyes met Steve’s in the mirror once more, for a moment you could see the eleven year old boy again, and he’s the reason you say yes.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you reminded Steve for the tenth time that night as you looked over at your door to make sure it was locked. Your mom would’ve killed you if she had ever found out Steve never left. 

“I know.” Steve crawled into bed next to you and collapsed with a huff. He wrapped his arms around you and you were weak against him.

You’ve always been weak against him.

– 

You’re not sure when you first lost Steve to Nancy Wheeler.

They met when you were all in middle school, and yet somehow she hadn’t caught his eye until you were juniors and she was a sophomore. 

He had dated other girls before, but none had been like Nancy; she was the only one who truly caught his eye. 

You watched as he became infatuated with her. It happened slowly, and then all at once. He stopped walking you to class, stopped sitting a few seats behind you, stopped asking to spend the night. 

Steve still saw the wonder in your eyes, though. He still saw the fondness that burned his skin and ground into his bones. He saw your eyes in Nancy’s, and it infuriated him. He loved the girl, he knew he did, but somehow you were always there.

Even after you stopped asking to see him, to sit in his car and drive, to be his best friend again. 

Somehow, you were always there. You were always there, long after you stopped calling yourself Steve Harrington’s best friend and he stopped feeling the need to miss you. 

Then, one night, when Steve had been on his way to pick Nancy up to go see a movie, he drove past you sitting on a park bench with someone’s arms thrown over your shoulders. He remembers feeling the wind being knocked out of him at the sight, he remembers the possessiveness that clawed so deeply into his chest that he had been afraid for a moment that he was dying. 

He doesn’t remember changing lanes and parking there in front of you.

He doesn’t remember the way your face fell when you saw him.

He doesn’t remember the way the guy who had been wrapped around you stood up, asked who Steve was and why he was bothering you.

All Steve remembers is that he no longer saw the fondness in your eyes when you looked at him. The wonder had been gone. 

“Y/N?” His voice hadn’t sounded like his own. Your name hadn’t left his lips in months; it felt like exhaling after breaking an oath. 

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you had shaken your head at him, somehow knowing Steve’s feelings before he did. He would come to learn that you had always known his feelings for you, long before he was ever able to figure them out himself. You looked at the guy next to you, your date for the night, and shook your head again. “Not here. Not right now.”

“I know.” But Steve hadn’t known anything. If someone had asked, then, what his name was, all he would’ve been able to answer with was yours. He was yours. “I… I know.”

“I think you should leave, buddy.” The guy you’d been with said, and Steve remembers now that his name had been Jamie. He had been on the soccer team, someone he had once shared a drink with at some stupid party last year. 

Steve cleared his throat and avoided your eyes. You knew too much. You knew too much and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d spoken to you until then. “Have a good night.”

And then he was gone. 

Steve broke up with Nancy a week later. 

You never saw Jamie after that night. 

– 

Neither of you know how it started. 

But you know how it will end.

Steve doesn’t, but you don’t blame him. 

He sneaks in through your window most nights and takes from you what you’ve always been willing to give him; it’s how your relationship has always been, and yet you’d give him everything and more if he asked you to. 

Steve kisses you and holds you at arm’s length and tugs you back in every time. 

You always allow yourself to be pulled in. 

One night Steve crawls through your window and reeks of alcohol. He trips over himself as he enters, his hair a mess, still grown the length you once suggested to him, and his jean jacket hangs loosely from his thin frame.

“Steve?” You rush towards him and help him through your window, holding your breath as you do so.

He leans heavily against you and slurs his words. “‘M here.”

“You’re here.” You confirm for him, setting him gently against your bed. As he stares at your ceiling with blurred eyes from the alcohol, you start removing his jacket and shoes. He’s not going home tonight in this state, you know his dad will only send him back here again anyways. 

“Always here,” he slurs again, rolling his head to the side as he does his best to look at you. He squints, studying your side profile and it takes everything within you to not face him. You busy yourself with his clothes, giving yourself something to distract yourself with. He frowns, even in his drunken state he can read you so well. “Always… here.”

“You are always here,” you untie his shoes and place them against your wall. “It’s late, Steve. Let’s go to bed, okay?”

“No,” he now tries to fight against you. Words float through his mind, in a haze of letters and sentence fragments, and vaguely there’s something there that he knows he has to say. Some grand epiphany in between his sixth and seventh beer tonight. “I wanna–I wanna talk.”

You freeze. 

He sees your discomfort and feels something break within him. He tries desperately to grasp at the words within his mind. “Here. It’s… You’re here.”

“I live here, Steve.” You’re not sure what he’s trying to tell you, but you know that if he keeps talking, he’ll ruin the last remaining line that tethers you to him. “Please, just close your eyes and sleep–”

“You’re always here.” His voice has strength to it now, as if the confession has sobered him up. His eyes are now focused, though his mind is still a haze of everything he hasn’t told you. His movements are still slow, his breath still reeks, and he knows that this isn’t what you deserve. “W-why?”

You close your eyes. 

You’ve always known how this would end. 

“We can talk in the morning.” You try to appease him, now gently crawling over him so that you can lay his drunken state to rest. “How about you just hold me tonight, okay?”

Steve is gone again, now lost in the alcohol he’s consumed once more, and your offer of him being able to hold you is all he can focus on now. Exhaustion washes over him and he wraps his arms around you, distantly he thinks he remembers someone else doing this to you once. The thought makes him hold onto you tighter, though he thinks that this isn’t fair to you. 

Lips close to your ear, he whispers, “We shouldn’t be doin’ this.”

“I know,” you close your eyes again, scared he’ll see the tears within them. 

Neither of you know how it started.

The undoing of whatever you had started long before either one of you truly knew what it was.

One day you were both eleven and Steve had been drawn towards the naivety within you that he never had himself.

Tonight, you’re both seventeen and the naivety is gone, and as the alcohol burns through Steve’s system, he knows it’s because of him. 

You’ve always known how this would end.

Steve has only realized it tonight.

-

⌑ writing masterlist

[paradoxlemonade]

Nature of Curiousity

Fandom: Hermitcraft

Characters: Joe & Cleo

words: 1024

Warnings: very mild body horror (Cleo is embroidering on Joe, but he's made of fabric and does not feel pain)

Ao3: Here!

Summary: Joe Hills the puppet wants to make friends with humans. The humans do not want to be made friends with. Cleo puts him back together afterwards. [Abecedarian Prose Poem]

@mcyt-valentines gift for @therizino-ao3! Hope you enjoy :]

...

A sunrise the color of a bitter lemon tea beckons in the fresh morning scent of grass and dreams, soft around the edges and losing their remaining sharpness as sleep turns to wakefulness. Beneath an old willow tree, a corpse as fresh as the day it died rests in the dewy grass and embroiders artful designs into her best friend’s shoulder.

Cleo huffs at him, “You know, it would’ve been nice if you had waited until at least breakfast to go galavanting around and get yourself shot by a humanfolk.”

Dauntlessly undeterred as per usual, Joe merely smiles serenely and says, “But I must watch them, as the rain must fall and snow must melt; it is in my nature, sewn into my skin.”

Even-spaced threads holding his innards on the right side of the felt are the only thing decorating his skin, by Cleo’s own observation.

“Fine as that may be, your ‘nature’ does not make you invincible to arrows.” Generally speaking, being made of cloth made Joe invincible to very little, save for perhaps pain and common sense. He would grow tired of his game eventually, and then he would stop attempting to consort with the humanfolk (at least, Cleo hoped he would tire of it).

“If I am endlessly repairable no matter my condition, is that not a form of invincibility?”

 “Joe, you can only be repaired if I have the pieces to put you back together; if the humanfolk decide it would be more fun to capture you instead of running you off, you would be in more pieces than magic thread could possibly hold together.”

“Killjoys—that being people who deny my innermost whimsy, that being you—” he gestured at her with the arm not being worked on, “should not judge how one chooses to express themself, especially when they are themselves of humanfolk blood.”

Less ever said about one Joe Hills’ innermost whimsy, the more sane one would be, as neither consistency nor thoughts of sound minds are facets of his being.

Minutes flow around them like a gentle brook as Cleo continues her stitchwork and pointedly does not give his comments the dignity of a direct response, at least until she thinks of one worth saying.

“No humanfolk,” she began slowly, “Would consider me possible by their understanding of the world, let alone ‘of their blood’; I have not been theirs for a very long time.” One day was all it took to lose everything that she’d built over the course of her entire life, as one day was all it took for the sickness that ravaged her village like a pack of wolves descending on a flock of sheep to bury her in an early grave that she didn’t stay put in.

“Perhaps that much is fair and you have no love left for them, but I have never been theirs; the humanfolk ways are unlike our own, and I find myself pulled in again and again despite all attempts to the contrary.”

Quickly fleeting curiosity would be too much to ask, she supposed, as temporary passion was also as antithetical to Joe’s nature as he claimed sedation to be.

 “Really, you can’t be all too mad at me for this, because if you were as upset as you pretend to be, you wouldn’t have offered to sew me back up, and you certainly wouldn’t have added these nice yellow flowers without me needing to ask.”

She glances down to her hands as if seeing them for the first time that morning, the hands that gently wove the thread in and out of his fabric skin with a practiced ease and the comfort of a close friend. This conversation—despite its distances—has still grown much too close to an uncomfortable shard of glass nestled deep into her chest, digging and poking into the soft tissue beneath her heart that she could not excise no matter how strong her will. 

“Unfortunately, we still live in a world where I need to sew you back up for reasons other than your own foolishness, and it’s not like I could simply let someone I’ve worked on walk around looking like I did the job carelessly.” 

Vexed enough by her candid response, Joe allows the conversation to wander along to more familiar territory by changing the topic with all the subtlety he could muster—that is, not a whole lot.

 “What type of flowers are these meant to be, anyway?” Joe asks, stretching to see Cleo’s handiwork.

“Xyris flowers, of some kind; they’re all over around here and you seem to like them well enough that I didn’t think you would mind if I put some on your arm.”

Yellow petals of soft thread cascade from the top of his shoulder down midway to his elbow, just shy of of meeting up with the dusky green vines—those were almost ready to come out, but the new stitches would have to stay for a few weeks so the fabric could knit itself back together. Zero weeks have gone in recent memory that did not end with one of Cleo’s friends needing stitches (usually Joe, and usually for silly and-or humanfolk reasons), but she never stopped pulling out her needle and thread before they could even apologize for bothering her.

And as Joe thanks her for the help and the flowers, she leads him back to her house for an early breakfast to cap off an odd morning, all the while dreaming of a world where the humanfolk and the otherfolk didn’t have to live on opposite sides of the veil, and Joe could make strangers into friends.

 Better worlds and broken hearts are playing cards of the same set, but a card for resilience is also shuffled into that same deck. Crisp toast and peppery fried eggs aren’t quite miracle workers, but they’re enough to bring Cleo back up to normal when combined with good company. Dreams weren’t going to come true on their own, but maybe Joe was onto something with his adventures.

 Everything considered, it took him an hour longer than last time to get run off.

[lau219]

Take It Slow

This was inspired by the reblog below that I saw from the lovely @beastofburdenxo a while back. After reading it, my mind immediately went to my OC Lauren and Cillian from Red Carpet. I hope you guys enjoy, and please let me know what you think!

***!!!Mature sexual content. Minors, DNI. 18+ readers ONLY!!!***

…………………………………………………………………………….

Finally entering the house after what felt like much longer than five days, Cillian tried to be as quiet as possible, uncertain if Lauren was still awake or not. Squinting at the clock on the stove as he walked into the kitchen, he saw that it was 2:00 a.m., three hours behind what he’d adjusted to over the last week.

Lauren had had to unexpectedly leave Cillian in New York after the first of his interviews there five days ago. They’d flown over together, and she’d ran the day for him. She watched the recording of his video interview, and then they’d had a lengthy afternoon as he’d participated in a podcast interview at a nearby studio, shoddy equipment causing the whole process to take much longer than they’d expected. Then he had an interview for a magazine at the publication’s offices across town.

Afterwards, they’d coordinated a meet-up with Maeve’s jewelry designer friend, who’d come to New York on a trip of her own and met them back at their hotel. She’d been thrilled, at long last, to meet them in person and also see the ring again, this time on Lauren’s finger. They’d spent a couple hours happily chatting in the hotel bar before finally discussing the plan of her making their wedding bands, which was the reason Lauren and Cillian had arranged to meet with her in the first place.

Lastly, the two of them had managed to go out to dinner at a quiet, secluded restaurant they’d found before they finally headed back to their hotel room for the night, ready to shut everything and everyone else out.

Other than the first day, the whole trip was meant to be a chance for them to get away, spending some quality time alone together and also visiting a few friends in the city after a busy few weeks for both of them. The commitments of that day were supposed to be the only interruptions of the trip.

However, Sharon had contacted them on their way back to the hotel from dinner, prefacing the conversation with total and complete apologies. She then revealed that she had agreed for Cillian to participate in two other interviews while in New York over the next two days, claiming the publications were too respectable to pass up. She’d followed it with reiterated apologies and swore to them that neither he nor Lauren would have to show their faces anywhere else for the next two weeks if he just agreed to the interviews. After ending the phone call, Cillian had taken a deep breath and forced himself to count to ten. This was the first break he and Lauren had had in weeks, and if he didn’t love Sharon like a second mother, he would have had a few choice words for her.

So, there they’d been in their hotel room, but instead of them sharing a bath and then tucking themselves under the blankets like they’d planned on doing, they’d spent the last two hours on the phone with Sharon and then coordinating a new schedule to accommodate for the interviews. Once they’d finally finished going over everything, Cillian had flopped down on the bed beside Lauren and let out an exaggerated groan before rolling against her and burying his face in her chest. He was already exhausted and had just wanted to stay in that bed with her for the next few days.

“Poor baby,” Lauren had said, giggling as he’d laid atop her.

She began to rub Cillian’s back, sliding her hands under his shirt and massaging his skin while she kissed the top of his head. As her hands roamed higher and pushed up his shirt, Cillian lifted his head from her chest, their eyes meeting before he pushed himself up on his forearms and then sat back on his knees, looking down at her.

Reaching up, Lauren placed a hand on his chest before sliding her palm up and slipping her fingers below his neckline as Cillian kneaded her hips.

“I don’t think you can wear shirts like this anymore,” she’d said to him. “At least not if I’m with you.”

She spread her fingers as she stroked his chest, unable to any longer resist the enticing display of chest hair that had been peeking out of his shirt and calling to her all day.

“Yeah?” Cillian replied, still kneeling above her. Her fingers sensually exploring along his chest caused his cock to stir immediately. “And why’s that?”

Lauren lightly shook her head as she continued to touch him.

“It’s too sexy,” she’d answered simply. Then she blushed before she spoke again, her voice quieter. “All I’ve wanted to do all day is touch you.”

The lust in Cillian’s eyes intensified at her last statement, noting the adorable blush on her cheeks. He raised his hands and grabbed his shirt, pulling it off quickly before shucking it to the floor. He then reached down and lifted the hem of Lauren’s shirt, pulling it off her just as quickly as she lifted her torso from the bed to allow him to remove it. She then reclined again beneath him, clad in a delicate light pink bra.

Cillian took a moment to take in the amazing view of her beneath him before he’d then immediately leaned back down, covering her mouth with his as she’d continued to stroke his chest, craving more of her touch as she moaned into his mouth.

“Always so bashful,” he’d affectionately teased her as their lips parted, his voice husky. He moved his mouth to her neck, just below her ear, before he’d continued. “But such a good girl, telling me what you want.”

He then stroked her nipple through her bra, and Lauren whimpered and squirmed beneath him.

“Cill...” she whined, her chest rising against his as she inhaled.

“You know what a distraction you are?” he’d finished as he pulled away from her slightly. “My little publicist, being all pretty and proper. Driving me crazy all day.”

Lauren’s heart fluttered as she wrapped her arms around him, and their lips met for a heated kiss. Shifting, Cillian had just reached down and hooked her leg around his waist when Lauren’s phone began to ring. They’d tried to ignore it, but when she didn’t answer, it rang again seconds later, and they’d both groaned simultaneously in annoyance as Cillian pulled himself off of her.

“It must be something important,” Lauren said, a bit breathlessly, her hand slipping from his chest as she turned her head and reached for her phone on the bedside table.

“Fucking better be,” Cillian growled as he laid on his back beside her, letting out an annoyed sigh as he looked up at the ceiling.

“Hello?” Lauren answered her phone. After hearing someone’s frantic, muffled speech on the other end, Cillian turned to look as Lauren suddenly sat up, one of her bra straps slipping down her shoulder as she switched the phone to her other hand and pressed it to her ear.

“Ok, ok, relax, we’ll take care of it. Don’t panic.”

Still laying down, Cillian turned his head to her at the same time she looked over to him.

“What?” he mouthed to her, his brow furrowed.

“Publicity crisis,” she whispered back to him before returning to the phone call.

For the next 15 minutes, Lauren had paced the room, talking down one of her clients who’d been caught in some uncompromising photos. She’d managed to get them calm enough to let her off the phone, but the situation was bad enough that she was needed back home as soon as possible to help diffuse things.

“Why did we even come out here, again?” Cillian said as he stood with Lauren at the curb, getting ready to send her off to the airport in a taxi. “Can’t even have five fucking minutes with my fiancé.”

“Lucky girl. She dodged a bullet, if you ask me,” Lauren teased him in response.

At that, Cillian snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her against him, giving her ass a smack as she squealed in surprise.

“You wouldn’t be getting away with that comment if we were still upstairs,” he’d said to her.

She’d smiled at him and then lifted a hand to run her fingers along his neckline as she’d done earlier.

“I’m sorry. If it was anyone else, you know I wouldn’t need to go, but...”

“Trip’s a bust now anyways,” Cillian replied, shaking his head. “I’m coming home after the interviews are over on Thursday.”

“Are you sure?” Lauren had asked. “I can fly back out here once this is taken care of.”

“You’re not doing all that back and forth,” Cillian replied with another shake of his head. “I’ll just come home and we can make some other plans a little closer to home. I’m holding Sharon to the two weeks off she promised us.”

“If you’re sure...” Lauren had said.

“I am,” Cillian replied, his arm still around her. He then lowered his voice. “But I’m also holding you to what you started upstairs, and when I get home, we’re picking up right where we left off.”

“Hmmm,” Lauren replied, leaning forward and placing a sensual kiss on his neck. “Hopefully I’ll remember. It’s already a little fuzzy to me.”

Cillian tightened his grip around her.

“You’ll get that little ass of yours in that cab right now, if you know what’s good for you,” he said lowly.

Giggling as she pulled away from him, Lauren’s eyes met his before she gave him a quick kiss on the lips.

“I’ll text you when I land,” she said. “And once again when Sharon gives me the final details for your interviews in the morning.”

Cillian nodded and then released her. Opening the cab door, Lauren then turned back and gave him a final kiss.

“I love you,” she said when their lips parted.

“I love you,” he’d replied.

Then he’d closed the door after she’d climbed into the cab and waited until it was out of sight before heading back into the hotel.

That had been four days ago, but it had felt much longer. After the last of his interviews earlier that day, Cillian had originally texted Lauren to let her know that he’d be home around 10:00 p.m., but that had turned into a 2:00 a.m. arrival when his plane had been delayed. Cillian had texted her again, telling her not to wait up for him, and now that he was finally home, he tried to be as quiet as possible as he confirmed that she had, in fact, gone to bed.

Entering the kitchen, he flicked on the light above the sink and saw that Lauren had left a note for him on the counter.

Cill,

I’m sorry, I was so tired, I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer. Just leave all your stuff by the front door and I’ll wash it tomorrow. There’s some (late) dinner for you in the fridge if you’re hungry. Then leave your phone in the kitchen and come to bed – you’ll be happy to know you won’t be needing it for the next two weeks; you’re stuck with that fiancé you mentioned...

I love you,

~ L

Cillian smiled to himself as he read her note, then placed it in his wallet before turning the light off once more. Foregoing the food she’d mentioned for him in the fridge, he headed straight for their bedroom, quietly opening the door and entering the room.

She’d left the closet light on for him, a sliver of light peeking into the room through the mostly closed closet door. As Cillian’s eyes landed on the bed, he saw Lauren among the scattered blankets, her hair fanned out around her and her legs slightly bent as she slept peacefully. She looked so beautiful, and, thinking about the wild road they’d been down to get here, Cillian’s chest swelled as he thought about how lucky he was to have her.

Stripping down to his boxer briefs, Cillian quietly walked to the closet and turned out the light before returning to the bed and carefully slipping in beside Lauren. As he settled next to her, she briefly stirred and awoke just enough to snuggle into him and mumble a greeting.

“Hey, baby,” she murmured.

“Hey,” Cillian whispered back.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” He then placed a soft kiss on the top of her head and gently squeezed her. “Go back to sleep.”

“Mmhmm,” she breathed out, rolling over.

Shifting and spooning behind her, the last thing Cillian felt before falling asleep was Lauren’s fingers lacing through his as he gently draped his arm over her waist.

——————————————

He wasn’t sure what time it was as he shifted in the bed, but the hint of stormy gray sky filtering through the curtains and the rain pattering against the window made Cillian even less motivated to roll over and check the clock. Awakening a bit more, he felt the warmth from Lauren’s body close next to him, and he slipped his arm across the sheets to her.

Still curled up on her side with her back to him, Lauren exhaled a hum and lightly stirred as Cillian’s palm rested on her hip, before then pulling her closer. Feeling his warmth, but still mostly lost in sleep, she pressed herself into him, unconsciously wiggling her ass against his crotch as his palm slid along her skin.

She had on only a pair of cotton boyshorts and a thin little cami, and as Cillian ran his hand over her again, he caressed the curve of her bottom, her cheeks barely covered by the boyshorts, as the hem had ridden more than halfway up her skin in her sleep. Feeling her plump bottom against him and also under his hand, Cillian’s cock stiffened, and when he allowed his fingers to trail from her cheeks up to her torso, he became even harder as he slipped his hand beneath her cami and gently cupped her breast, savoring the feel of the beautiful mound of flesh in his palm before lightly sweeping his thumb over her nipple.

Cillian heard Lauren’s breathing change, her inhale slightly sharper as his thumb toyed with her hardening bud.

“Cill?” she mumbled, still half asleep.

“Mmm,” he hummed in confirmation.

“Time ‘s it?” she mumbled again, her voice still thick with sleep. She wasn’t sure whether she was dreaming, or if Cillian’s hands had really just been on her.

“Doesn’t matter,” he responded quietly, slipping his arm around her waist and pulling her even closer.

Now slightly more awake, Lauren turned her head back, her eyes still closed but seeking his lips over her shoulder.

“Missed you,” she whispered.

“I missed you, too.”

He moved his head slightly to meet her, their lips connecting in a soft kiss as Cillian gently grasped the column of her throat. After a moment, she registered the sound of the rain tapping against the window, and Lauren let out a small sigh of satisfaction as their lips parted.

“Let’s just stay here all day,” Cillian said quietly to her.

“Mmm-hmm,” she replied as he gave her a kiss on the forehead.

Rolling back over, Lauren scooted closer against Cillian under the blankets. She felt his arm wrap around her middle again, and she had just nearly fallen back asleep when she felt Cillian press a kiss to the back of her neck, and then another, and then another.

“Cill...” she mumbled to him as she squirmed at the tickle of his lips on her neck, her face half buried in her pillow.

Cillian squeezed her tighter, his erection fully evident to her as her bottom became flush with his crotch.

“Hmmm?” Cillian hummed, but Lauren only wiggled against him in response.

He then slid his hand beneath the waistband of her shorts, pushing them down as he slowly ran his hand over her cheeks. Once the shorts had gathered between her thighs, he gently tugged them lower, encouraging her to part her legs so he could completely remove them. Once they were off, he quickly replaced his hand between her thighs, stopping her from closing her legs again and tucking his fingers into her. As Cillian felt her soft, warm flesh and gently stroked his fingers along her folds, Lauren released a quiet whimper.

“Cill...ahhh...” she gasped, and her body arched into him again when his movements became a bit more intentional. Cillian’s own arousal grew even more as, once he’d stroked her, he could feel the new wetness between her legs. He softly traced a finger around her clit, circling it but avoiding the exact spot, causing Lauren to wiggle her hips in search of the touch he was teasing her with. As she moved against him, Cillian felt even more of her wetness as he continued to touch her.

“Do you remember what you left unfinished a few days ago?” he whispered again, his voice deep. “Because I can remind you.”

“Mmmmmm,” Lauren moaned, rocking her hips back and forth against him.

Cillian then slipped his hand from her core and glided it up her torso, her arousal leaving a wet trail from his hand along her skin as he dipped below her cami and moved it up her body. He helped her shift enough for him to pull it off of her, keeping her tightly against him and cupping her breasts after tossing aside the shirt.

“I think you need a reminder,” Cillian said lowly.

He then reached down to remove his briefs, his cock immediately springing against Lauren’s ass as he pulled them off, then pressed into her.

“This is what you started, and I think you should finish it.”

Moaning at the feel of his warm stiffness against her, Lauren wiggled again, seeking him, but when he didn’t move or touch her, she whined.

“Cill, baby...”

“So wet already,” he urged her on, his fingers dipping into her again, but it wasn’t enough for her.

“Please, Cill, I need...I need...”

“I know what you need,” he said, his lips brushing against her ear. “And you know what I need. Are you gonna be a good girl and let me have it?”

Her pulse quickening, Lauren wordlessly nodded against her pillow, and then she tried to turn over, but Cillian stopped her.

“Uh-uh,” he said as he stopped her with a hand on her hip. “I want you like this.” He then cupped her breast and pinched her nipple as he kissed her neck again. “Just like this.”

His touch guiding her, Lauren lifted her leg, allowing Cillian to hook his arm under her knee and hike her leg up where he wanted it. Her legs parted and her knee bent, her pussy was now exposed for him, and she felt his fingers run through her wetness once more before he shifted each of them slightly. As he moved, Lauren grabbed his hand, lacing their fingers together and turning over her shoulder once more in search of Cillian’s lips. Her eyes still closed, she went totally by sense, something about this moment making her want to just feel lost in him.

Squeezing Lauren’s hand, Cillian met her lips, savoring the feeling of her against him and the lazy sensuality of the moment. They could get lost, go slow, and filter everything else out.

When their lips parted and Lauren turned her head to rest on her pillow again, Cillian adjusted her legs again, and then with intentional slowness, he guided his cock inside her from behind, her pussy taking him inch by inch until he was finally fully surrounded by her plush warmth.

“Ahhhhh,” Lauren moaned on an exhale as Cillian slowly entered her. He filled her inch by inch with warm fullness, and she gripped the bedsheet with her free hand as he finally became flush with her. Their legs interlocked as Cillian bent his own knee to meet the angle that allowed him to be as deep inside her as possible in this position.

“Do you know how much I love being inside you?” Cillian said lowly as he heard her exhale again.

“Mmmm,” Lauren hummed in response. “You feel so good. You just...you fill me up, Cill.”

Her words both surprised him and turned him on even more.

“Somebody’s gotten more vocal while I’ve been away,” he said in lustful teasing. But she just ground herself against him in response, wanting him to move.

With slow thrusts, Cillian moved in and out of her a few times, their bodies moving up and down in unison as the rain against the window made a lazy soundtrack for them.

“How’s that feel?” Cillian said after several more thrusts.

“Ohhh, so good,” Lauren moaned as she turned into her pillow more, the slow pleasure almost taunting her, feeling like she was being teased.

Cillian sensed her desperation, her hips rocking back and forth.

“Hold on, sweetheart,” he whispered gently and gripped her fingers in his. “Just go slow with me and feel this.”

Together, they continued to move with deep, deliberate thrusts, Lauren dipping her hips each time Cillian entered her to meet him against her back. His chest was pressed firmly to her, and Cillian’s lips moved along her neck, Lauren reaching behind her to glide her fingers through his hair and tug it as he nipped her skin. They went back and forth, giving each other a touch, a kiss, or a whisper of something as they kept a lazy pace amongst the sheets.

As Cillian shifted them slightly again, his leg moved up higher along hers, and Lauren reached down to stroke his balls, her fingers tracing along his skin tantalizing slowly before then gently squeezing him, massaging and teasing him in her palm.

“Lauren...” Cillian groaned at her touch, his balls tightening even more as she fondled him.

Lauren turned her head and kissed his neck.

“Does that feel good?” she whispered.

Cillian could only groan lowly, moving his hand to cover hers, encouraging her to keep going. Her lips pressed to his neck again, and she continued to stroke him as he groaned deeply once more, savoring her touch while at the same time it drove him crazy.

Eventually, Cillian roughly grabbed her hand, lacing their fingers together as he began thrusting into her again, Lauren gasping at the sudden shift. As their breathing gradually became heavier, Cillian released her hand and slipped his fingers to her center, finding her clit and circling it before then gently squeezing it between his fingers. Lauren gasped again when she felt the pleasure shoot through her as Cillian combined his thrusts with his touch.

“Cill, baby...ugghhh,” her eyes squeezed shut even tighter and she buried her face in her pillow as he pinched her clit again. “Baby, I can’t...I can’t take it.”

“Yes, you can,” he murmured in her ear as he rolled her clit again. She bucked against him and moaned once more, and before she could press her face further into her pillow, Cillian lifted his hand from her core and grasped her chin, pulling her face back towards him and kissing her.

“Such a good girl, I know you can take it,” he said to her as he returned his fingers to her folds and stroked her bud again. When Lauren’s face scrunched up in agonizing pleasure and she exhaled a small cry, Cillian’s cock throbbed inside her.

“Look at me,” he said to her.

When Lauren opened her eyes, she was met with his, her heart pounding as he reached up and cupped her breast, his look causing her heart to skip a beat.

“I love you,” he said to her.

Reaching up, Lauren curled her hand behind his neck and pulled him down to her for another deep kiss.

“I love you,” she said quietly as they parted.

Cillian then began to move again, thrusting in and out, gradually going faster and harder until they were both panting and Lauren was moaning into her pillow once more. Cillian’s hand was firmly gripping her hip as he felt her walls tightening around him, and he groaned when she snuck her hand down a final time to stroke his balls again. In response, he slammed his hips against her and held her tightly.

“Come with me, sweetheart,” he said lowly in her ear.

Among a mix of moans and whimpers, they chased it together, Cillian thrusting as Lauren rocked her hips. Soon, their moans gave way to panting and gasps as they each felt the desperate closeness of a climax, and in a final push of urgency, Cillian sought her clit and stroked once more as Lauren’s velvet walls clamped around him. The sound of the rain was momentarily drowned out by each of them crying out as they came together.

Still wound tightly together, they sank deeper into the bed as their breathing gradually returned to normal. Lauren reached down and lifted Cillian’s hand from her waist, bringing it to her mouth and kissing it lovingly before intertwining their fingers. At the same time, Cillian tucked her more tightly under him, kissing the top of her head as she released a sigh.

“On second thought, there’s one reason I’d leave this bed today,” Cillian said eventually.

“Yeah? And what’s that?” Lauren asked, Cillian finally allowing her to roll over to face him.

“To get you into the tub,” he replied. “What do you say I run us a bath?”

As Cillian ran a finger along her hip, Lauren smiled up at him, leaning in and placing a soft kiss on his jaw.

“Sounds perfect,” she said.

@nyxxie-pooh @xsweetcatastrophe @febris-amatoria @natalie--rushman @hannibellector

@alltoowellbeneaththemangotree @fuseburner @neonpurplestars89-blog @hudson-bay-girl @allie131313

@beastofburdenxo @devotedlyshadowytheorist @meister95 @betty21rose @ceirinen

[toji-bunny-girl]

𝗞𝗡𝗕 𝗯𝗼𝘆𝘀 𝗮𝘀 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝘁𝗿𝗼𝗽𝗲𝘀 !!

ꕤ 𝐀𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐈𝐊𝐈 as childhood friends-to-lovers. The two of you have been sticking next to each other since you could ever remember—he knows every single dream you have and promised to reach them together with you, and you promised to be by his side regardless whether he’s soaring or falling. Aomine was your other half and you were his too.

Those were the innocent promises you’ve made when you were both kids. And now that you’re both grown up, his height towering over yours and your body growing curves, every time he hangs his arm on your shoulder or when you hug his arm close to you; it sends butterflies all over your tummy. You’re not sure whether you should be feeling this way, oblivious to your mutual feelings.

Though, you couldn’t say that the both of you didn’t feel it. His hold on your hand lingers longer than it should, your gazes seeping tenderness and signs of jealousy whenever someone of opposite sex gets too close to one of you.

But neither of you are bold enough to admit your feelings, fearing the risk of your friendship torn apart. So you let the lingering touches be, only allow yourself to show your longing gaze whenever his back faces you and bite your tongue as yet another girl confesses to him.

ꕤ 𝐊𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐆𝐀 as fate’s second chances. You used to be friends but eventually, the both of you grew apart with your own lives, almost forgetting about your friendship until one day, you bumped into each other and his name starts to be on the top of your call history again.

There’s not a day where one of you forgets to text the other, not a single night where the two of you doesn’t lay on your beds and talk about your day on the phone. And suddenly, Kagami is back into your life and he refuses to leave again; slowly making himself apart of your life more and more. Until he’s sending you home everyday and you’re cheering his name the loudest in all of his matches.

ꕤ 𝐊𝐔𝐑𝐎𝐊𝐎 𝐓𝐄𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐘𝐀 as dense people in love with the help of their friends. It started when his friends called out the way he looks at you, eyelids softened and relax, orbs brighter than they’ve ever seen. Even he himself was shocked to his feelings, spending sleepless nights thinking all about it—thinking all about you. It took a week after his realisation only did he ask his friends for advise. After all, he’s more clueless about love than anything else.

While on your side, you’re begging your friends to help you out with the boy who you thought didn’t have any feelings for you. The shy smiles he sent you as per Hyuga’s words and the awkward conversations he tried to start seemingly useless to your oblivious mind.

Though, the same goes for him too. The homemade bento you gave him that you’ve spent an hour before school preparing with the excuse it was leftovers from the night before and the sports drink you’d give him after his practice flew over his dense head even his teammates were absolutely flabbergasted.

So the battle between Kuroko and your friends began, just to see which one of you would finally get your feelings through your equally dense heads.

ꕤ 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐄 𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐓𝐀 as something more than just friends. Every conversations you make would turn into something flirtatious, then you would both laugh it off afterwards, before either of you slips a glance at the other.

Everyone around you are always screaming at the two of you to get a room because of how heavy the chemistry between the both of you is—but neither of you would do anything other than throwing teasing words around and accidental touches.

It’s like you’re both running away from your feelings, afraid to confront the other for something serious; afraid that you’re going to be toyed with and get your heart broken. Yet when someone asks you out on a date, you’d reject them with him in mind.

Ironically, the longer you stay silent about how you really feel, the more painful your heart becomes until it’s almost unbearable. Kise’s just a little away from your reach; he’s yours but not at the same time.

ꕤ 𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐒𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐀 𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈 as friends-to-lovers. The base of your friendship starting with what the two of you like in common—snacks. Your first impression of him was some big intimidating basketball player until he’s sitting next to you in the back of the class; where the real party is.

Not 10 minutes after the class started did you hear some kind of stomach growling before Atsushi turns to his bag pack and takes out a big bag of chips along with a pair of scissors. He’s quiet as he cuts the packet with the scissors, as if he’s experienced with it.

Watching him snacking beside you, back hunched like an old man and a hand over his chewing mouth, made you hungry for some snacks too. So, you took out your own caramel corn. You sit at the back of the class anyway, you had to have snacks ready in your bag.

Peering at you, Atsushi’s eyebrows jumped up a little before pointing at your snack, asking for an exchange with his. And from then on, you’ve been sharing snacks in classes almost every single day, until one day you find a piece of paper inside the opened bag of chips he handed to you.

‘Wanna go buy snacks tgt?’

ꕤ 𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐒𝐄𝐈𝐉𝐔𝐑𝐎 as enemies-to-lovers. It started off small with his original hatred for you; like when you would raise your hand a second faster than him in class when the teacher asked a question or when the voting for class president between you and him turned out to be a tie. Then occasionally, he would overhear classmates talking about how you’re perfect—captain of your club, vice-captain of the student council and there’s no single flaw in your personality and looks.

Perhaps it was jealousy? He didn’t know, such a feeling was foreign to him after all. And as time passed, he saw you as a sort of competition, a threat that he had to defeat. Until one day, when you’re both put into a project, which would take weeks to complete in the least, together by your teacher. Of course it annoyed him, pissed him off but he still had to finish the project with you any way.

You were well aware of Akashi’s hate for you, and his incredible superior complex too so you thought working together with him would be tough; or maybe somehow get you killed as well. But it turned out that he didn’t really planned for your demise, although he would ignore your texts and ideas regarding your project—he didn’t have to say aloud but all you needed to do was to follow his lead and you’ll be fine.

Well too bad for him, you’re as persistent as a mosquito, following him around campus and even going to his practice just to ramble about what you think you should do for the project; completely ignoring all of his threats that he’ll hurt you. Until eventually, he couldn’t handle you anymore and agreed to let you play your part in the work. And that was the start to everything.

Discussions in the school library turned into working in his house’s library. Rides to his house turned into walks to your house after school. And his hatred for you, turned into yet another foreign feeling in his ribs.

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Pick up the phone, I know I’m drunk again. And you know my intentions ‘cause it’s 2am - Ancient History by Set It Off

Hello, could you make one of Spencer x reader, please?

Hello love, hope you like it!

Ancient History

Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Summary - After you and Spencer break up, you just can’t seem to stay away from each other. But casual sex with the person you love will only do more harm than good, so you have to decide if you have a future together or if your relationship is fated to be ancient history.

CW - mentions of 15x6 Date Night, breakups, mentions of casual sex but no my graphic, drinking, angst, make ups.

WC - 2.6k

Spencer Reid had never been good at separating the intimate from his emotions. 

Maybe it was due to him being well into his twenties the first time he slept with a woman. Or perhaps it was just the fact that his heart was too big for his own good. 

Whatever the reason, he’d never been one for casual sex. He didn’t do hook ups or one night stands. He needed to have some kind of emotional connection with a woman before he could fall into bed with them. 

And it wasn’t exactly as though that had changed, things were just…complicated. 

It had taken months of dating before you and Spencer took your relationship to that level, but once you did it was difficult to keep your hands off of each other. 

Spencer had felt connected to you in ways he’d never felt with anyone else before you’d even slept together for the first time. And after, the link had grown so intrinsic it was likely to never break. 

He felt as though he was just as in tune with you as he was himself, like your souls were entwined on some kind of cosmic level even his impressive brain couldn’t fathom. 

But after you’d had to witness him standing in his doorway kissing a hit woman who had kidnapped his mother and had him locked up, your three year relationship came to an abrupt end. 

He’d tried to reason with you, to explain he’d been doing it to save a family and no other reason. But you’d seen the way he’d kissed her, the way he gripped her so tightly as though he was afraid she may crumble to dust. The way he looked completely dumbfounded afterwards, like Cat’s kiss had erased every single one of his brain cells. 

There was no denying that kind of chemistry, try as he might. You’d tried to let it go but every time you closed your eyes you saw him and Cat together. And so for your own sanity you had to walk away. 

But you never could shake the memories that rain inside. And neither could Spencer.

He missed everything about you but it quickly became clear to him that he desperately yearned for you and your body. 

Spencer had never had a sexual relationship last so long, or in fact any relationship, but he felt as though he was dying without your touch. 

Once the storm had settled the two of you met up for coffee and somehow you’d ended your meeting with a mutual understanding. 

You didn’t trust Spencer the way you used to but you both agreed you missed the intimacy. And so the two of you made an arrangement that meant you still got to keep the physical aspect of your relationship without the strings and commitment. 

And maybe if Spencer wasn’t so in love with you he wouldn’t have agreed to it. But if he could only have one part of you then so be it. It would have to be enough. 

He pretended it was right but deep down he knew how wrong it was. But every time you called he answered. And when he called, you did the same in return. 

Spencer tried to stem his loneliness with alcohol, hoping maybe it would take away some of the desperation he felt just to be near you. But more often than not it didn’t work and he would find himself pacing the street with his phone to his ear. 

Pick up the phone, I know I’m drunk again, but please pick up the phone. 

And of course you always did, and you always knew his tensions at two am. 

Maybe you were under thinking part-time thrills, not focusing on the bigger picture because you would both get swept up in the pleasure. 

It was hard to think logically when Spencer had you pinned to the bed under the weight of his body, yet making you feel lighter than air with his touch. 

He knew how to drive you wild and you knew how to make him smile. Your bodies moved together in such an impossibly perfect rhythm, like a choreographed dance, the moves for which were embedded deep inside your souls. 

It was too hard to quit something that just felt this right. Even if Spencer did inadvertently leave a small fragment of his heart behind in your bed each time. 

A storm was surely advancing, but Spencer ignored it. Instead he would get drunk and call you at two am and end up between your sheets. 

Every time it became more difficult to drag himself away from you. When the haze of pleasure wore off and he had to prize himself out of your bed it often felt like those sheets were holding him captive. 

But he would get dressed and take his leave as you whispered from the bed, see you next time. 

It was all fun and games until inevitably you would both get hurt. You played with fire because you loved the way it burned. But there was no use patching up a sinking ship, sometimes you just had to know when to admit defeat. 

And so Spencer stopped drinking, stopped allowing his lowered inhibitions from picking at the phone again. But then you showed up at his apartment in the middle of the night and his resolve melted. 

It chipped pieces of him away each time one of you had to leave after spending the night together. He started to feel used, like all he was good for was sex and it caused indentations on his heart from where it continuously took beatings. 

Deep down he’d hoped if he kept this up then things would go back to how they used to be, that you’d forgive him, learn to trust him again. 

Perhaps that made him naive, idealistic to believe just because he couldn’t separate the intimate from the emotional that you couldn’t either. 

After a while it all just felt like a vicious, self-destructive cycle and he had to break it. As much as he loved you, as much as he’d thought getting to be with you in any capacity was worth it, it hurt too much. It would end up taking too much from him and he’d never recover.

He would never be able to begin to heal while the two of you were still playing this game. Spencer needed you to be his ancient history. 

But once again you showered up on his doorstep in the middle of the night and he let you in. He didn’t argue when you started to kiss him or when you began removing his clothes. 

He put up no fight when you led him to his bedroom and you both climbed on the bed. He was completely complicit in the activities that followed. 

But once it was over and you almost immediately freed yourself from between his sheets and started dressing, Spencer’s heart took the final blow it could handle. 

He sat up in bed, pulling the sheets over himself to shield his naked body and watched as you got back in your clothes. And the words seemed to come tumbling out of his mouth before he’d realised he was going to vocalise them. 

“This is the last time we do this. This has to be the last time.” He hated the pain in his voice, the way he sounded like a small, frightened child. 

You pulled your t-shirt over your head and slowly turned to face him. 

“What? Why?” You frowned at him. “Why would you say that?” 

Did you really not know? Surely you knew him well enough to see the hurt in his eyes every time you walked away from him. It didn’t take a profiler to see how much agony this caused him. 

“This is breaking me, Y/N.” He shook his head. “Every time we do this it hurts me more than the last. I can’t keep watching you leave when all I want is for you to stay.” 

“Spencer,” you sighed almost as though you were frustrated. “It’s just sex.”

“It can never be just sex with the woman I love, the woman I thought I would spend the rest of my life with.” He swung his legs out of the bed and hurriedly pulled his boxers on before standing up. 

“Spence, come on. It doesn’t need to be complicated.” You rolled your eyes. 

“You know who I really am and it’s not this.” He folded his arms over his bare chest. “I know I hurt you and I’m sorry for that. And maybe there is some sick part of me that enjoyed that kiss with Cat. Maybe there always has been some twisted part of my brain that’s never been able to let her go. She's come so close to outsmarting me time and time again and perhaps I like that in a weird way. But you also know that I love you with every beat of my heart. And you seem to know how to break it so well.” 

“I don’t think I’m ever going to be able to look at you the same.” You confessed. “The second the endorphins wear off and I’m just laying here next to you, it all comes flooding back to me. All I can see when I look at you is that damn kiss.” 

“I think what we’re doing…it’s more damaging than anything. It fools me into believing that we can have more again. And if all we’re ever going to have is sex then I have to end it. It’s not enough for me Y/N. It would hurt less to have nothing from you than only have one small part of you.” His arms fell back to his sides and he turned away from you, feeling the tears burning his eyes. 

For a moment or two the room descended into an all consuming silence. Spencer fought against his tears, not wanting you to see how much pain this was causing him. He didn’t feel like he deserved to be hurt, not after what he’d done to you. 

You knew as well as he did that this was a foolish idea. Truthfully it hurt you just as much every time you had to leave him. Getting to be close to him filled your heart with joy but as soon it was over the pain set in again. 

You wished you could find a way to forgive him for making out with Cat, wished you could foresee a day when you wouldn’t still feel so betrayed by it. 

Logically you knew he’d only done what he did to save a family but you also knew on some level he’d enjoyed the excuse to kiss her. 

And maybe if it had been anyone other than the woman responsible for putting him in prison and kidnapping his mother it could have been easier to reconcile. But the hardest part of it all for you to wrap your head around was how he could do such a thing with a woman who had effectively ruined his life over and over again. 

It said more about his morals than anything. He said he’d done it because he thought it was the only way to get what he needed out of her but you both knew there were other ways. And you were sure you’d never be able to forgive him for it. 

After a while you exhaled heavily, knowing he was right as much as you didn’t want to admit it. In the long run this was only going to hurt more than just letting each other go. 

“I guess I should go then.” Your voice wobbled a little as you spoke. 

“I think it’s for the best.” He agreed without turning to look at you. 

You collected the rest of your things in silence and he didn’t once glance at you as you did so. Even when you left the room and headed to the front door, Spencer forced himself not to look, not to speak. He was this close to begging you to stay. 

But he said nothing. 

And maybe you were destined to be his ancient history. 

Except the thing about history was that it had a habit of repeating itself. 

Several months of radio silence on both your parts followed that night until you’d bumped into each other at a local bookstore. 

The hurt was still there but it had lessened and actually you found seeing one another again was a breath of fresh air. 

You agreed to meet again for coffee the following week. 

Over subsequent meetings a beautiful friendship blossomed between you. You were able to hang out without falling into bed with one another and although there was still some residual pain, being friends worked out nicely for you both. 

But then one day you woke up and all the trust you’d lost in Spencer seemed to have returned; all the feelings you’d had about that kiss with Cat seemingly vanished. 

Maybe all you’d needed was time to process it and move past it. And the more you thought about it the more trivial it all seemed. 

You loved Spencer, even now you loved him just as much if not more than you had. Letting one stupid mistake get in the way of what could be the best thing that ever happened to you now felt so idiotic. 

It had really been second nature when after having lunch together and you walked outside to say your goodbyes, you’d leaned in and kissed him. 

When you pulled back Spencer averted his gaze, shoving his hands in his pockets and taking a step backwards. 

“Y/N…” he whispered your name under his breath. “Don’t…please don’t.” 

“I don’t even know what came over me.” You suddenly felt awash with discomfort. “I’m so sorry.” 

“I love being your friend.” He looked back at you, chewing on his lip. “But it’s still hard sometimes. We can’t fall back into that old pattern, it’s too painful.” 

“I…I…” you stumbled over your words. “Spence?” 

“Yeah?” He swallowed.

“I don’t wanna be your friend.” You shrugged. “And I don’t wanna just sleep with you. I want it all, Spence. I want what we had.” 

His eyes conveyed his sadness and he inhaled sharply through his nose. 

“So do I.” He nodded. “But I hurt you and you can’t forgive me for that, I get it.”

“See that’s the thing,” you stepped closer to him. “I think I have forgiven you.”

His face contorted into confusion as he scrutinised you curiously. He ruminated on your words, you could all but see the cogs turning in his head. 

He didn’t seem to believe you and you didn’t blame him for that. You stepped even closer and removed his hands from his pockets, holding them in your own. 

“Y/N,” his voice and his hands both trembled. “Please don’t say that unless you mean it. I can’t go through the pain of losing you again.” 

“I do mean it, Spencer. I’m not mad anymore, and I know I can trust you with my life.” You gave his hands a soft squeeze. 

“I…I’m so sorry for the thing with Cat. You have no idea how sorry I am.”

“I’ve got a pretty good idea.” You offered him a smile. “I love you, Spence. Some dumb kiss is not a good enough reason for us not to be together.” 

“I love you too. S-so much.” He stuttered, tears misting his vision. 

“Good.” You laughed lightly, leaning in and capturing his lips once again. 

He removed his hands from yours so he could wrap his arms around you, holding you close to him where you belonged. 

He knew he’d never do anything to risk losing you again. You were his present and you were his future; not his ancient history. 

[johnslittlespoon]

can't stop thinking of the mental anguish bucky must've been in when he wasn't able to escape with buck during the march. once again, separated.

i was literally dreading that scene so hard from the moment we got the snippet of it in the teaser at the end of p8, especially bc it was devastating to think that the majority of the finale might've had the two of them separated; i was so nervous for how they'd play it out.

i think john had been mentally prepared to (and almost betting on) sacrifice himself if it meant gale would escape, what with the whole route of thinking that gale had someone to go home to and john didn't. as much as he would have preferred to escape with him, i'm sure, i think there was a part of him that was at peace with the outcome, or at least i think he would have been had it not been for the gunshots afterwards. i always wonder whether his stomach sank when he saw them aim, if he carried the heavy feeling that maybe one of those shots had taken gale's life, spending the next weeks not knowing whether gale was dead or alive.

and i wonder about it from gale's end; i'm sure he knew he was being shot at, but did he also spend that week on the run agonizing over whether john had been shot for his role in helping him and the others escape? did he see that white horse, reminded of john's stupid unicorn affinity, and think it was john coming to say goodbye one last time, or did he think it was john encouraging him to keep going so they could meet again? or did he think nothing of it and brush it off and focus on staying in survival mode?

either way, that time apart after not only having been separated once back in '43, but then spending every waking moment together for the next 18 months– it must have been so horribly jarring and lonely, even surrounded by so many other people. how awful it must have felt when gale got back to thorpe and had to shoulder the heavy guilt of knowing john should've been there with him, of having to go to the spots they used to go to together and feel something so important missing, all the while having to put on a brave smile for the others.

and how dull and numbing it must have been for john to go through the motions day after day until the liberation, not knowing whether or not the one thing that made escape worth it for him was even still alive. how hard he must have had to cling to the tiniest shred of hope in order to not lose his mind, or do anything stupid, just for the smallest chance to reunite with his buck again.

but a bigger part of me thinks (or hopes) that they would just know if something had happened to the other, the way soulmates do. that they would have this flame behind their ribcages burning bright the whole time because something in them was just so inexplicably certain that they'd find each other again; so sure about it that a world where they didn't grow old side by side was unfathomable. that neither of them were surprised when they reunited, and everything slid back into place exactly the way it was always meant to be.

[bullet-prooflove]

Send me a made-up fic title and I'll tell you what I would write to go with it

"Homophrosyne"

Tagging: @trublu2u@burningpeachpuppy@upsteadlogic@noxytopy@kmc1989

Companion piece to Little Changes  & The Last Time

“It’s homophrosyne – The Ancient Greek term which means two people feeling or thinking alike.”  OA had told Stuart once upon a time as they stood next to the bomb disposal van watching you get reamed out by your boss. It’s not the first time it’s happened, it won’t the last. In fact Stuart’s sure he’s going to suffer the same fate when he gets back to the JOC because like you he went off book. “That’s you and Sasha, it must be nice to find someone who gets you like that.”

This was after OA's girlfriend Hanna had left for Delaware, the younger man was still feeling the loss acutely. He had wanted to try long distance, she had known it wouldn't last, not with a sick father to care for so she had ended it. His dating life afterwards had been a mix of false starts after that, because noone could contend with the woman he'd loved.

“It’s terrifying.” Stuart remembers telling the OA. “Because you know the logic behind the things they do and you can’t argue against it.”

It has been that way since the very beginning.

It’s the reason Stuart knows when he unlocks the door to the home the two of you share that he’s going to find you gone and your wedding ring on the kitchen table. He’s known you were going to leave him since you got the diagnosis. In your eyes you have nothing to offer him, he’s still young enough to have a family, to enjoy it. You just need to get out of his way.

The thing is Stuart doesn’t want a family with anyone else, if he has one he wants it to be with you.

He’s surprised to hear music when he enters the house. It’s loud, something with so much bass it feels like it’s vibrating through the walls. He takes the stairs two at a time because there’s an apprehension in his chest, this is the type of music you listen to when you don’t want to feel and he doesn’t like where that thought leads him. He finds you in the baby’s room, the one with the yellow walls and the white crib.

In the early days of trying, the two of you had gotten overexcited. You’d been so sure it was going to happen that you’d created this space for your baby.

“Manifest destiny am I right?” You had said while he put together the crib and you sorted through the unisex baby clothes.

The doors been closed on this space ever since you’d learned you wouldn’t be bringing home a child. Neither of you could bear to look at it.

Now that door is open and the fresh scent of paint assails his nostrils.

When he steps into that room, his heart breaks just a little because he sees it for what it is, an ending to a dream. The cuddly toys that lined the shelves have been shoved into trash bags, with donation labels affixed to them. The crib has been taken down, packed away tidily alongside of the bags. Two of the four walls are now sage green, the tiny little cartoon sheep that you had painted together with a stencil have disappeared under the fresh coat. There’s an anguish in his chest, he feels it so acutely that it makes his eyes sting.

He understands the message. If you stay you can’t be around this stuff, they’re just reminders of your inadequacy as a woman, you need to start fresh.

You tense when he puts his hands gently on your shoulders, his lips brushing lightly over the back of your head.

“What will it be?” He asks you, his voice a little rough.

“I don’t know.” You say quietly before gesturing at the trash bags. “I just know it can’t be that.”

Stuart? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[gatorbites-imagines]

bro you’re. you’re so cracked. for months bro i’ve looked at you in shock and awe, i could never keep up the way you can man. huge respect for you.

i know you posted it sunday, i saw it when it still had 5 kudos, and i was going to say something but then i got a little shy. my extraverted-ness immediately leaves when i get online. but i am begging you (respectfully) for more of the Jolly n Ghost knifeplay fic. that was fucking fantastic dude. on your A+ game per usual. it’s absolutely fine if you don’t get around to it, no worries.

Simon “Ghost” Riley x male reader

Part 2 to the knifeplay prompt

Headcanons

Hehe im glad you liked my first part to this, you’re making me blush with the compliments. isn’t any blood n stuff in this but I hope you still enjoy :)

-          After that night in the practice room, Ghost and you had gotten closer. What you had didn’t have a label, but everyone could tell you both had come to some type of agreement, and it was making you two tolerate one another, even enjoy the others company.

-          No one knows what happened, but there ended up being multiple rumours about what two of the teams best and bloodiest soldiers could have gotten up to, especially after the bloody mats were found.

-          You had done your best to clean the mats, but there was only so much you could do, especially since you and Ghost had been so busy humping like rabbits and the blood had dried when you were done.

-          The time you spent together outside of missions and duties was like the first night for the most part, dangerous, hot, and bloody. Neither of you ever went without a few cuts or bruises, your late-night sparring regularly ending with one of you on all fours as the other held the first down by the back of their neck and went to town.

-          That didn’t mean there weren’t short moments of softness, where after you had both been wrung dry of all you had where Ghost and you would lay side by side, even cuddling at times. There were times where Ghost would turn to you and kiss you so softly and carefully, as if you were made of glass and would break if he went any rougher.

-          It always made something unfurl like a flower in your chest, basking in his careful touches as he revealed some tiny vulnerable part of him.

 -          Ghost had been called away on a mission with the main folk, meaning Soap, Gaz and Price, leaving you behind on base with the rookies and alike.

-          You knew they could take care of themselves, so you just went about your business, training rookies and helping out where you were needed. Staying close to your callsign you never let the grin drop from your lips, your mood always high and bubbly, though this did not make you weak, many of the other people on base could say this from experience.

-          You were in a great mood when the team returned, and as you went to go welcome them back a ruckus caught you attention as they landed. Soap was out first, Price quickly following after, the two of them lugging somebodies limp, bloody body.

-          You heart gave a lurch as you recognized that body, it was Ghost. The grin you knew was on your lips tightened as panic filled your being, his hands tightening into fists by your side as medics quickly arrived and carted your partner? Away.

-          The other three made their way to the medbay, all looking like they had been dragged to hell and back as they stumbled past you, though they were all standing and conscious, which could not be said about Ghost.

-          Price must have seen the look in your eyes as he patted you on the shoulder as he passed you, “he’s alright Jolly, don’t you worry, Ghost is tough” he said to comfort you.

-          You knew better than anyone how tough Ghost could be, seeing as you both spent a lot of time ripping each other to bits and putting each other back together afterwards, but it didn’t lessen the painful feeling in your chest.

 -          You tried to stay yourself during the next few days as Ghost didn’t wake up, but you couldn’t help but be short with people, your anxiety for the Brit growing more and more every day.

-          You still had a smile on your face, it was something you had trained into yourself after your violent torture, even if you hid it with your balaclava. But seeing Ghost like that, so cold and still on the medical bed, it was like it ripped open every scar you had on your body and left you freezing.

-          You visited Ghost every day, more than once for that matter, always hoping he would be awake to roll his eyes at you and tell you not to worry, maybe even insult you for being such a worrywart, but he didn’t move, not even a twitch.

-          It was impossible to sleep at night, the dark bags under your eyes growing day by day even as they were hidden by the black paint you wore around them. You knew it was obvious you weren’t coping well, and it was obvious to others as recruits avoided you like the plague and your friends looked at you with worry.

-          Finally, one day when exercising in the bases gym, you overheard a group of people talk about Ghost, and when one of them made a comment about how they hoped he didn’t wake up, something in you seemed to snap.

-          Because during those long sleepless nights you had realized what you felt for Ghost wasn’t just some random spark that came with an exciting bed partner, but it was love. You had realized you were so in love with Ghost the idea of losing him was destroying you.

-          Your world had bled red and when you came back to yourself it was because you were being held to the ground by Price, Soap, and Gaz. Price was talking to you, but you could make sense of anything he was saying, your eyes stuck on the soldier you had jumped as he was taken out of the gym by his mates.

 -          You had been benched after that, not allowed to use the gym, or get involved with anything involving planning, training, or the likes. All you could really do was clean, do kitchen duty or sit with Ghost.

-          So that’s what you did, you sat with Ghost. Sitting in silence with your hands clenched tight, shoulders tense, and scars burning as if they were brand new. You got little sleep, most of it by Ghosts bedside sitting in those horrible chairs all medical facilities seemed to use, arms crossed over your chest and body ready to spring into action if needed.

-          It was evening, not too late but late enough that no one was moving about, and Ghost had been moved into a personal room a while ago as he still didn’t wake up, at least there was the privacy of the room being like that.

-          You found yourself by his bedside again, holding his limp hand as he stared down at the white sheets that covered him. All of a sudden, the fabric around your face felt so constricting, and frustration flared in your chest as you reached up and tore it off, balling up the black fabric of your balaclava and throwing it at the floor.

-          Your hair was a mess, you know this for a fact, having not washed it since Ghost went into this coma of his, it just didn’t seem important when the man who had wormed his way into your heart was here and not waking up.

-          For once you weren’t smiling, a painful frown on your face as you clasped onto Ghosts hand, trying so hard to will him to move, or make a noise, anything. Your eyes blurred as tears gathered in them as scenarios played through your mind for the thousandth time.

-          What if he didn’t wake? What if he didn’t return your feelings? What if, what if, what if.

 -          You had been so consumed by the painful feelings and thoughts that you didn’t notice Ghosts eyes fluttering, slowly opening, or his head turning in your direction as you sat with your head ducked down, trying so hard not to start sobbing.

-          “Never thought I’d see the day” a raspy voice said from the bed, your head quickly snapping up and trying in vain to blink away tears, the tears running down your cheeks and leaving wet lines down your face.

-          You didn’t know what to say, keeping Ghosts eyes that looked at you softly, he still looked exhausted, but he gripped your hand back when you didn’t react.

-          “And here I thought id never see you not smiling, Jolly” he chuckled softly, his voice rough and dry, sounding slightly pained as the chuckling made his body move just a little. You just let out a pain noise at seeing him awake, finally springing to your feet and knocking the chair you were sitting in over.

-          “Ghost” you choked, eyes welling up with tears again as the iron cold grip that had been on your hard loosened, trying to find words to express just how relieved you were to see him awake, how much you loved him, how much he meant to you, but nothing came out.

-          Seeming to notice your dilemma Ghost just huffed a laugh and pulled you close with the grip he had on your hand, and when you were close enough to leant in to press a soft kiss to your lips. His lips were dry and chapped, but kissing him was the best feeling you had ever experienced.

-          A wobbly noise left you as you reached up and held onto his face almost desperately, kissing him over and over, your tongues rubbing against one another and getting spit all over your chins.

 -          Ghost was the one to finally pull back, not giving you enough time to whine at the loss of contact as he pressed his forehead against your own, his hands coming up to comb through your messy hair.

-          “Hope you didn’t miss me too much Jolly” he joked, a scoff leaving your lips as he grasped onto his shirt, not wanting to let go any time soon.

-          “Don’t you dare do that again Simon” you growled, staring deeply into his eyes, his eyes seeming to grow even softer and fonder as you used his name, his hand coming down to caress your cheek.

-          Pecking your lips one last time he just muttered he couldn’t make any promises, to which you let out an annoyed grunt. You stayed like this for a while, not wanting to let go of the other and just needing to feel the others contact and attention.

-          The feelings that had been brewing in your chest didn’t seem to be able to be contained anymore as the quiet words of confession fall from your lips, the fear or losing Simon too great, the knowledge that you had almost lost the ability to tell him.

-          Simon tensed up but slowly relaxed again, his beautiful eyes looking into your own. Carefully, Simon reached up and pulled off his balaclava, revealing his scarred-up face and blonde hair to you.

-          It made the warmth inside you grow even further to see him. He had never been a man of words, but as he pulled you in to kiss you once more, you knew his answer, and it made you want to weep tears of joy.

-          You could almost forget you were in a hospital room, on a military base. Being here with Simon was more than enough, to know he loved you back even though he couldn’t say it was enough. This was all you needed, all Simon needed too. To have each other, nothing else mattered.

[nanomooselet]

My Brother's Keeper (II)

As in every version of the story, Vash only plays the fool. He is not one. Oblivious, hapless and harmless are always masks he wears. From beneath them, he susses out what Wolfwood is pretty much immediately.

Not that it was hard. The man's barely trying. And really, three days into the trip to July and a guy carrying a cross from Nai's freaky book suddenly shows up, walks off the trailer slamming into him, tries to separate Vash from the reporters, lectures him about killing to survive, makes just-kidding-or-am-I remarks about being an assassin, then finally reveals he's actually carrying an absurdly overpowered laser-cross-gun before inviting himself along for their quote-unquote "protection". Nevertheless he sticks almost exclusively by Vash, who is by a very, very, very wide margin the least in need of protection among them.

Just in this scene his lighter has the Eye of Michael sigil on it and judging by the heap of butts, after picking tunnels for everyone to search (including one for him) he stayed right where he was and chain-smoked until Vash returned. Not too long afterwards Roberto abruptly and mysteriously vanishes, and Wolfwood tries to convince Vash the reporters must be dead. …Yeah, I guess that counts as subtle for someone who named himself Millions Knives, but c'mon. Knives thinks his stupid brother won't come to his party unless he's dragged there. Vash has a chaperone now whether he wants one or not.

If I were in Vash's situation I'd be quite annoyed. For fuck's sake, he's an adult. He's been one for over a century. He doesn't need a damn babysitter. And what kind of idiot sends an assassin to do that job?

Except... Knives somehow made the perfect choice in Nick.

Wolfwood's cynical rhetoric has no effect whatsoever on Vash's ideals and he's hardly any more effective at keeping Vash safe. Simply because Wolfwood's there, Zazie and Legato between them find excuses to endanger Vash, which is par for the course when Knives tries to "protect" him. No, what makes Wolfwood the best man for the job is something that may well have happened in spite of Knives, and it's this.

Regardless of his real age, at heart Nick is a kind but wounded boy who's only trying to protect his beloved family, especially his crybaby brother. He kills because he doesn't think there's any choice - he's ultimately a victim of indifferent circumstance. In a way, an innocent.

In Wolfwood Knives gave Vash everything Vash wants to believe is true of Knives himself. With all his heart, Vash wants his brother's cruelty and manipulation to be just... just some wildly misguided but sincere attempt to save the Plants, because he doesn't believe there can be any other way - but he'd be open to an alternative. Nai really does love Vash, just like Vash truly does love Nai, and Rem loved them both. His brother can't be a monster.

If he's smart and kind and strong and brave enough, if he can just overcome his fear, Vash is sure that he can help. He'd convince Nai that humanity doesn't have to die, it's just ignorance and crashing on this barren planet that made everyone's hearts so barren while they struggled to survive. They, the twins, can take responsibility for what they did and help Plants and humans to help each other. If they could do it together...

He could love his brother without it being so fucking painful. They could love each other without every encounter they have leaving more helpless people dead, more scars on Vash. From all that he's lost, he could salvage this one thing. He'd be so content with that. He's survived on much less. He ran before, but he'd stay this time, and for good. Neither of them would be alone. They'd have time.

On top of that, Vash needs to help people - it's what keeps him alive, and it makes him happy. Wolfwood needs someone who'll treat him like he's a person rather than a weapon, to remember that he doesn't have to be the Punisher. That's what keeps him alive. There's still a place for him in the world, even for what he's become.

If Vash can convince Wolfwood, his brother's agent, to accept that place... if he can help him... maybe he could do the same for his brother. Just as Luida did for Vash himself.

And Wolfwood does a damn good job playing the part without even knowing that's what he's doing. Well, he knows he's protecting Vash, but all it's in how he does it.

JPN: You only get one life. You have to fight for it, no matter who you hurt in the process. There's no other way to survive.

ENG: You only get one life, y'know? Self-sacrifice might satisfy the ego, but don't throw your life away. Survival's everything.

This is advice you'd get from a brother. If one must die so another can live, I'd rather you live - so make sure of it. Dumbass. (It's also the final request Rem made of the twins: I want you two to survive./Try your very best to survive for me.) Maybe phrased bluntly and a bit abrasive, but not… insane. No weird sermons about crusades and fire from the sky, no verbal abuse or put-downs, no blame, no hurt. What's more, while Wolfwood does try to convince Vash to leave the reporters for dead, when Vash goes back for them Wolfwood bitches all the way but goes with him. He slices open the Grand Worm for them (though I think also to annoy Zazie). And after that, he clinches it by, of all things, trying to get Meryl to eat bugs.

You're not going so survive like that. Come on!/Are any of you freaks interested in survival? Come on! Open wide!

(This is totally irrelevant, but their stupid bickering in the background in the English dub is hilarious. Nick straight up says "I'm helping!" and adds something about how short Meryl is. Meryl starts protesting that she's a "perfectly average-sized woman." I bet they were unbearable in the truck.)

Nai was always dismissive of, if not outright nasty about, Vash enjoying food he doesn't need. Nick gets it. Consuming food gives physical nourishment, and Plants don't need that to survive. But it's also togetherness, shared joy. Those are things both Plants and humans need, so it's not a 'waste'. We're more than merely serving a material purpose or function, even one that's self-declared. Even as Plants.

No matter how heavy a cross you carry, you still deserve to eat. You still deserve to laugh./Heh, no matter how heavy the cross is you carry, you deserve food. And to laugh.

Vash needed to hear that, or something like it. It's the kind of thing Rem used to say, the kind of thing Luida told him. (It's about everyone getting a share.) Meryl, though she cares for him, doesn't yet know how to break through Vash's rumination.

Nick's being a jackass older brother by happenstance, because he's letting down his guard. It's who he really is: kind of a silly kid who cares deeply about people and shows it by goofing off and pushing their buttons until they want to fucking kill him. But Vash would so relieved to have a brother who's just annoying about how much he cares. Who still cares enough to listen to his opinions, and to compromise when they disagree; who doesn't loathe the person Vash is because it's not what he thinks Vash should be. So Vash eats what Wolfwood offers, despite Roberto's warnings, extending his trust. Wolfwoof takes that in the spirit it was intended, a little shocked. Despite himself (and despite Zazie), he and Vash are genuine friends from this moment onward.

Also Nick is having a ball bugging the shit out of Meryl. She's like three feet tall and so easy to piss off! Maybe if he tries hard enough he can make her head explode. Irritating the little sister mode: activate.

That doesn't mean everything's love and peace, though.

Wolfwood's work isn't over yet. I think he's relieved Vash extended his trust both because, despite himself, Nick likes this dude (and that must have been an interesting realisation to come to about his sadistic boss's fluffy wuffy cotton ball of a twin brother) and because it makes his job easier. But now he's emotionally invested. He shouldn't be. He can't be. Zazie reminded him why, can see it in [his] eyes. The last person who cared like this was Livio.

Again, Vash isn't stupid. He does care about Nick as a person, not a surrogate Nai, just as he cares about everyone; it's why he's so easy to love and so, so many people have come to love him. (Precious darling boy.) Nevertheless, there are gaps between what Vash needs from Nick and what Nick is capable of giving. And there's one huge glaring difference between Wolfwood and Knives.

That difference meant the hope Vash came to have about confronting Knives in July was misplaced. He just couldn't have known until it was too late.

Part I

Part III

Part IV

Part V

Part VI

Part VII

[siswritesyanderes]

i never requested before but i was wondering if you could do a yandere percy jackson and annabeth (together not separate) and if they caught y/n escaping and how they would react afterwards??

You tried to blend into crowds.

You stayed out of wilderness and definitely away from water; you kept to the city, and you kept to the crowds. Each time you had to wait amid a cluster of other people to cross a street, your heart pounded, but you tried to act natural; visible signs of nervousness would make it easier for them to spot you, and they were certainly already looking.

You crossed the street. You crossed another street. You tried to look like someone who had a place to go, not someone taking turns at random. You tried to look like a real part of each group you walked with, not a shifty tag-along.

Then, suddenly, Annabeth was in front of you, appearing out of thin air as she took off her Yankees cap.

"Gotcha!" she said triumphantly. "There's our mortal. You did surprisingly well, but that little almost-double-back you did three blocks ago drew my eye." She looked up at the sky and did some kind of hand signal- probably to Blackjack. Then her clever eyes met your doleful gaze, and she laughed. "Oh, don't give me that look. Did you actually think you were getting away? Did you think you would elude both of us?"

On cue, Percy landed on an outdoor cafe table a few feet away, overturning it and startling several nearby diners. (Annabeth manipulated the Mist on them while Percy righted the table and trotted over to both of you.)

"There you are," he said, an unintentionally eerie smile forming on his face. Annabeth's scariest look was, no question, her look of intense determination. The look she got when she was focusing hard on something, piecing together a strategy. For Percy, his scariest look...well, his intense determination was pretty spooky, too, but the most chilling thing was often his smile. After all, he'd been fighting monsters for enough of his life that his smile of victory and glee was just as suited to taking a life as it was to finding the person he was looking for. "Thought we'd have to report you missing, this time: Just let some Hermes kids loose on the town and buy pizza for whoever finds you first."

"I win," Annabeth goaded him cheerily. "Again."

"It's just three to two," Percy protested.

"Four to two."

"Who's counting?" His eyes met yours again, and you felt the usual somersaulting of the stomach, as if a great sea wave had taken you off your feet and you were wholly subject to its push and pull. But you managed, with difficulty, to hold his gaze and not entirely lose your breath. "Ready to come home now?" he asked. "Or do you want to pick up some lunch, on the way?"

Crossing your arms, you replied, "I can't get a few days of freedom, before you lock me back in?"

"You had a great few minutes," Annabeth said. "Which would already be too long, if one of our many enemies decided to use you to take their revenge on us. I told you about how I lost Percy to Hera's plotting. We're not going to let the same thing happen to you."

They started walking you back in the direction of home.

You continued to pester them. "If a goddess wants to kidnap me, does it make a difference whether or not I'm with you?"

Percy smirked. "Uh, yeah. It does."

"I'm offended by the question," Annabeth said, with a frown.

"You're saying if I'm with you and a goddess wants to kidnap me, you can fight a goddess?"

"We're saying," Annabeth replied, "if you're with us and a goddess wants to kidnap you, we won't have to fight a goddess. The confrontation wouldn't happen in the first place."

She was making it sound like the gods were scared of them or something. "You're not...stronger than the gods...are you?"

"No," they both said at the same time, as promptly as if they'd rehearsed it.

"Of course not," Annabeth said. "Why would you even say that?"

"No, we're not stronger than any gods," Percy agreed. Neither one of them sounded quite convincing. It just sounded like they were being polite. Like, What, me? No, I couldn't possibly... "But," he continued, with a noticeable edge, "they're not gonna want to fight us. At all."

"If a fight can be avoided, we'd all like to avoid it," Annabeth said. Her words seemed to be chosen with the intent of mitigating the implication that the gods would not win a fight between themselves and the combined power of Percy and Annabeth, but her tone was hard and pointed, undermining the equanimity in her phrasing. "The gods are smart. They won't make a problem for themselves unnecessarily." With that veiled threat to the Olympic pantheon dispensed, she then sent you a wry smile and said, "So. Lunch or no lunch? If you're feeling that cooped up, we can always dine out. How about we take you on a date away from home once a month, and let you stretch your legs?"

You nodded grumpily. "That sounds better."

"Great! Now, don't try to slip out on us again, or we'll have to cancel. Got it?"

You nodded again. She wrapped a well-muscled arm around her shoulder and kissed your cheek.

"You got off easy," Percy whispered in your ear. "When I disappeared on her, she judo-flipped me." With a fond chortle, he slipped his hand into yours and asked both of you, "How about tacos?"

The weirdest part about being kidnapped by two young demigods who frightened the gods themselves– you thought, as you ordered tacos with your girlfriend and boyfriend –was pretending that you weren't.

[minty-mumbles]

Whumptober Day 16: "Don't go where I can't follow" (Pt. 1)

Summary: Hyrule and Wild are time travelers trying to run away from their past. They seem to be doing a pretty good job at it until they stumble across a family they don't want to leave behind. They end up leaving anyway, but unlike every other time they've left people behind, the Lon family doesn't seem content to stay in the past.

AN: This is fairly tame as far as whump goes. Mostly just emotional whump, but there is some human experimentation/slavery in the flashbacks

Read on AO3 | Part 2

~~~

“Hyrule, are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

“The apple we sent forward in time is sitting in front of us.”

“Yeah.”

“Wild, we sent this forward in time a month ago.”

“Mhmm.” 

“The spell worked?”

“It worked. Hyrule!” 

“Wild! We did it!”

”Oh my gods! Are- are you-”

“The apple is still fresh! There’s no sign of rotting.”

“Are- are you feeling okay though? Not feeling woozy or anything?”

“My magic feels just fine. The spell was completely reliant on that magical battery. All I had to do was set the magic going in the right direction, and let it run. It didn’t drain anything from me at all. What about you?”

“You know I’m fine, ‘Rule. I don't have the power needed to do something like this. All I’m good for is fine-tuning. If the spell had been operating off my power, it wouldn’t have even worked in the first place.”

“...”

“I wonder what those stuck up Sheikah scientists would do if they knew?” 

“Probably try to take credit for our work. Two teenagers with magic invent a fictional time travel spell before they can? They would kill us.”

“Not funny, Hyrule.”

“I wasn’t really joking.”

“...”

“Wild, do you know what this means? Now that we know the spell works, we can leave! Well, we need to get our hands on another battery. Preferably one that won't run out of power and explode like the last one did, and who knows how long that’s going to take, but-!”

“But afterwards we can leave! We can travel back to before this gods-forsaken building was even built and just walk away. And I don’t think it’ll take us long to get a hold of a strong enough battery.”

“What do you mean?”

“I swear, you need to start paying more attention to the scientists, Hyrule.”

“That’s kind of hard to do when I’m nearly unconscious every time they finish their… experiments. It’s hard to listen to their conversations if I can’t hear anything.”

“Right, sorry.”

“It’s okay. What were you saying?”

“They found a new artifact. They’ve been testing it for a month and still haven't found the limits of its power. They think it might be regenerating the power on its own. Supposedly it’s a combination of ancient Sheikah tech and magic. They’re calling it the Sheikah Slate.”

“A self-regenerating power source? That’s almost too good to be true.”

“Yeah. So…. How long will it take you to steal it, ‘Rule?”

“Just point me in the direction of the room they’re keeping it in, and I’ll have it to you within twenty-four hours.” 

“...“

“Wipe that grin off your face, Wild!”

“Why shouldn't I be happy? We’re finally getting out!”

~~~

Wild and Hyrule.

Hyrule and Wild. 

It had always been the two of them. They were brothers. Maybe not biologically, but they had suffered and survived together, and now they were doing more than surviving. They were living. 

They traveled together, always one step ahead of harm and one spell away from safety. They were filled with a longing to explore the world, and neither of them had a reason to ignore that longing, so they simply didn’t. 

They had a thirst to see, to know, to experience, and they had the power to do all that and more at their fingertips.

It was kind of ironic that the time travel spell turned out to be so simple in the end. Hyrule provided the force behind the spell, the Slate provided the raw power, and Wild did the fine-tuning to get them exactly where and when they wanted to go. After casting the spell hundreds of times, it was second nature to them. They could slip through the fabric of time with less effort than a sewing needle slipping through loosely woven cloth.

The Slate had been a blessing from the gods. They never would’ve escaped that laboratory. Not only did it provide a steady source of power that never seemed to run dry- no matter how often they jumped through time- it was also able to store items and money within it. It made their lives so much easier. 

The two of them had been everywhere and everywhen. All over the world, in all different time periods. Sometimes they traveled back to the time when humans were nothing more than apes living in the trees, and spent weeks living off the land. Sometimes they stopped in busy cities to enjoy the rush of the crowds. Occasionally they would wander into a library, pull the first history book they saw off the shelf, then travel to the time period the book was about. 

The entire world was open to them, and they could do whatever they wanted to.

Well, mostly. There were some limitations.

They couldn't change the past. As much as they wanted to, they couldn’t stop wars from breaking out or plagues from spreading. They also couldn’t go back and prevent their own personal tragedies from happening. Doing that would cause their pasts to change too much, and they might end up not existing in the first place. 

Neither of them were exactly eager to cause a paradox, so neither of them tried to play the hero, and they stayed away from times and places they’d already been to before. 

They also couldn’t travel beyond the late 2200s. That was when functional time travel technology had finally been discovered, and then promptly outlawed for normal citizens. They’d learned that the hard way when they’d nearly been arrested in 2311 for illegal time travel. 

Getting arrested was the last thing they needed. Wild said that he could think of plenty of governments that would love to get their hands on two of the most powerful mages in the world. Hyrule squawked in protest at being called one of the most powerful mages, but there was no refuting that Wild was probably right. 

There were very few mages left by the 2200s. Wild and Hyrule probably were the strongest ones left by that time. Any mage that was still living a free life after magic was outlawed would be too weak to be noticed by the government. (Well… technically magic was never completely outlawed, but it was only legal if you were using it in the service of the government. It was a nice way of saying that if you showed any signs of having magic, you were taken into state custody and you stayed there. Forever.)

To their relief, the pair had never seen any other time travelers before the 2240s. They didn’t know why, but they weren’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. As long as they stayed in time periods before then, they were safe from the government, or anyone else for that matter, coming after them.

The fact that time travel was only discovered in the late 2200s offered them a bit of smug satisfaction. They had figured out time travel first, and they did it long before anyone else had. Nearly a hundred years before anyone else.

On top of that, the scientists obviously never cracked the secrets of magical time travel. Their time travel was purely technology-based. When Wild realized that, he gloated for a whole hour. Even Hyrule had smiled with a sense of sick satisfaction. Those scientists never got anything useful out of them. 

Good.

~~~

There had been a time Before. There had been a time when they hadn’t known each other. There had been a time when they’d had loving families and normal lives ahead of them. Wild had lived with his mom, dad, and little sister. Hyrule had been cared for by his mama and aunties and countless cousins.

Then it had all fallen apart. 

They were both young when their magic came in- only five or six years old, by their recollection. It had started slowly, as it always did. Little sparks would dance across Hyrule’s fingers, and Wild’s eyes would glow an eerie teal in the dark. 

Small, harmless things that marked them for slaughter. 

Wild’s parents hadn’t been brave enough to fight for him. 

They hadn’t wanted to face the consequences of harboring a magic user, even if that person was their own son. They had their other child to worry about, after all. They couldn't risk having his sister taken away from them as well.

So, at the young age of five, mere days after he had started showing the fit signs of magic, Wild’s parents had given him away with little fuss. It was one of Wild’s earliest memories. (Which was saying something, since he didn’t remember much of his childhood.) 

His parents both wore sorrowful expressions that day. Wild remembered being confused, but not commenting on it. His parents had been acting strangely for a while, after all. They had woken him up early, gotten him dressed, and handed him a backpack filled with some of his clothes. Then they had taken him to their living room where an official-looking stranger had been waiting. 

Wild hadn’t known what was going on at the time, so he had watched silently as his parents had signed the necessary paperwork to transfer custody of him over to the state. 

That had been the last time he had seen either of them. He hadn’t even gotten a chance to say goodbye to his little sister.

Hyrule’s mother had been braver. Hyrule had been her only child, and she was not so willing to give him up. 

When she’d seen him use his magic for the first time, she’d screamed and cried in despair. Her reaction had frightened Hyrule so badly he’d ran away and hid under his bed. The two of them had left their house soon after that, selling it to one of his aunts. 

They moved out to the middle of the woods and learned how to grow and hunt most of the things they would need so they didn't need to go into town as much. His mama had started homeschooling him.

His mama had tried so hard to keep it a secret. She’d done everything she could have done. And it had worked for a time. The pair of them spent three years living in seclusion, but it wasn’t enough in the end. 

Hyrule never learned how the secret got leaked. Maybe one of his cousins had figured it out and blabbed. Maybe one of their neighbors had seen him doing magic in the woods one day. Hyrule didn’t know. 

In the end, it didn’t matter how it had happened, only that it did. Their little cabin was raided, and Hyrule was forcibly removed from his mother's care, and made a ward of the state.

That was how the two met at the age of nine, causing their fates to be changed forever.

~~~

It was rare for the two of them to stay in one place for longer than a month. They both had itchy feet, and nothing seemed to hold their interest for very long. Usually, they arrived, saw what they came to see, and then grew bored and moved on. 

No one expected them to stay, no one expected them to go. No one expected them to do anything. After years of being observed and examined through a microscope, it was a novel feeling to blend into the background.

It was even easier to blend in during the earlier time periods. Back then, people hadn’t looked twice at strangers wandering into town with no documentation. The pair had tried to rent an apartment in the 1980s once. That hadn’t turned out well when they realized neither of them had any paperwork. Like, say, a birth certificate, driver’s license, or any kind of identification. 

In general, it was less of a risk in general to exist in the 1800s or earlier, when no one had cameras or access to the internet, and no one cared if they ran into two teenagers living in the woods. 

It was also easier to earn money if they needed to. 

The pair didn’t shy away from stealing if it was necessary, though they were careful to try to only steal from people who wouldn't miss it too much. However, when they decided to stay in one place for a while, they typically tried to find a steady source of income instead. 

After they had spent so long wandering, they had both picked up a wide variety of skills. Neither of them were true masters of any one trade, but they could perform the basic tasks well enough to serve as assistants in most kinds of workshops. They could work in the fields, tend livestock, butcher animals, harvest, hunt, and fish. They knew enough to do the busy work in leatherworking, baking, stonemasonry, shoemaking, and all other sorts of crafts.

Wild had learned how to fletch arrows, which was always a talent in high demand in the eras where people still used bows. Hyrule had studied under a cartographer for a few months. They both became proficient with swords, bows, and spears. They learned how to use their bodies as weapons if needed. They even learned how to fire guns, even if they were rarely in a time period where guns existed.

Fighting was the topic they’d studied the most diligently. They learned and relearned until they didn’t even need their magic to defend themselves anymore. Not as long as they had weapons in their hands. (The phantom feeling of the weight of the magic suppressors on their ankles was ever-present. Never again would they be that helpless without their magic.)

Growing up with a basic understanding of modern medicine put them miles ahead of even the most educated doctors in the 1500s. Having a basic understanding of what germs were would do that, but Hyrule had taken the time to translate that modern knowledge into a form that could be applied using the materials that were available in the pre-modern era. He also, thankfully, learned how to use that medical knowledge in a way that wouldn't get them hung for being witches when he provided a miracle cure to some disease or injury. 

If they really needed to, they could even find a small city and become street performers or put on a show in a tavern or pub. Hyrule had slowly taught himself how to play the ocarina and flute, and Wild could sing. They didn’t even have to make up their own songs. All they had to do was play music from the modern era, and the foreign rhythms of the songs drew attention to them automatically. The amount of money you could get from playing an instrumental version of Britney Spears’ Toxic in 1432 was truly a wonder.

In short, there was always something they could do to earn some money if they wanted to. 

~~~

Wild sat on the edge of his bed and watched dispassionately as the new kid sobbed into the tiled floor. Wild’s feet didn't reach the floor, so he idly swung them back and forth as he observed. His fingers, restless and still numb from the freeze spell he’d been forced to cast over and over today, fiddled with the edge of the soft blanket he sat on top of.

A small part of him wanted to go help the boy, even if he knew it would be pointless. Wild had been here for years, and he’d seen plenty of other kids come and go. Some of them were quiet when they entered the room for the first time, nodding to Wild and putting away their meager selection of clothing in the dresser they would share with Wild while they lived here. Those were the ones who had already been in state custody for a while.

Then there were others, like this boy, who were forced into the room by the guards. Sometimes they screamed, sometimes they cried, sometimes they clawed at the door desperately, like wild animals. Those were the ones who had just been dragged away from their families. 

Wild knew that trying to offer comfort never actually helped. Nothing he could say could make it better, and some things he would say could make it a whole lot worse

The boy was one of the ones who simply cried. He hadn’t even bothered to stand once he had been shoved into the room, instead lying defeated on the floor. 

The boy looked sweet, with thick brown curls and freckles covering every inch of available skin. 

He was probably right around Wild’s age too, which was somewhat of a rarity. Sometimes his roommates were as young as five, sometimes as old as fourteen or fifteen. Having a roommate his own age would be nice.

Wild wondered if the two of them would get along. It was always a hit or miss as to whether he would get along with his roommate, but as long as the boy didn’t try and kill Wild, then it would be fine. 

Eventually, the boy’s wails died down into uncontrollable hiccups. Soon even those faded, leaving just uneven breaths, and Wild realized that the boy had fallen asleep. Wild wasn't even sure if the boy knew there was someone else in the room. Probably not, or he wouldn't allow himself to fall asleep and leave himself so vulnerable to Wild. 

Not that Wild would hurt him! But the boy didn’t know that.

When the boy had been quiet for a few minutes, Wild hopped down from his bed, walking closer to get a better look. The boy was really a mess. His face was covered in tear tracks and snot. His shirt and shirts were dirt-stained and torn, and he wore no shoes, his feet calloused and muddy. A magic suppressant cuff was secured tightly around his ankle. The blue light that indicated the device was turned on was blinking steadily. 

Wild reached down to try to move the boy into a more comfortable position but hesitated. The dirt that covered the boy made Wild twitch and reconsider touching him. It wasn’t anything like the clean and sterile environment he’d been surrounded with for the last four years. He couldn’t figure out if he liked it or not. 

It didn’t matter either way. 

Tomorrow, the guards would come and get the boy and take him to the washroom to get clean. The boy would become just as sterile as everything else in here, whether the boy wanted to or not. The scientists didn't like it when the person they were studying was dirty, and they would no doubt want to take a look at the new addition as soon as possible. 

The ruined clothing would be replaced tomorrow too, and Wild hoped for the boy’s sake that the guards would give him some socks and shoes. The tile floor in their room got cold even in the summer.

Wild wondered if the boy was cold, laying on the tiles. He shuffled over to the bed opposite his- the one that this boy would be sleeping in from now on- and dragged the blanket off. With a flourish, he draped the blanket over the boy. 

The blanket was large enough that it seemed to swallow the boy whole. Or maybe the boy was just small.

Wild climbed back onto his bed and resumed his previous position, watching the boy with a burning curiosity. 

He wondered what his name was.

~~~

Even Hyrule and Wild sometimes grew tired of it all. They would grow bored of the constantly changing scenery and want to rest for a while. Whenever they felt the urge to stop and smell the roses for a while, they would find somewhere to settle for a while. They would find lodging with a family kind enough to open their home to them or work for their room and board. They would put away the Slate and, for the most part, stop using their magic.

They met people, made friends, formed bonds, and inevitably broke those bonds when they left.

They never knew how long they would stay. Sometimes it would be a month, sometimes as long as a year, but in the end, they always had to leave. They were driven ever onward, both by their own restlessness and the knowledge that they never truly belonged anywhere. They couldn’t look backward, couldn’t dwell on the past.

(They were both painfully aware of the irony of that statement. Time travelers who couldn’t afford to think about the past. What a joke.) 

Sometimes they did the familiar song and dance of telling people they were leaving. They would break the news to their new friends that they were leaving, and listen as they were begged to stay. 

Most of the time they tried to avoid that heartbreak. Most of the time they left silently in the middle of the night and left behind no hint that they ever existed. Maybe it was cruel to leave without a trace, and leave behind those who cared about them, but Hyrule and Wild had done this many, many times. It would always be difficult, no matter how they left. Leaving quietly spared them a bit of the pain, so they didn't have to see the pain their departure caused. 

Sometimes Wild wondered why they bothered interacting with other people at all. It would be easier if they didn’t. It would spare them the heartache. Yet somehow they ended up making connections again and again. Hyrule said that everyone, even traumatized time travelers, needed human contact. Wild personally thought that was bullshit.

(Yet, he never protested when they wandered into a town and decided to stay for a while. Because in the end, they were both lonely.)

Hyrule never forgot the names and faces of the people they’ve met. Before they started time traveling, it had been Wild who had the better memory regarding people, their names, and their faces. It wasn’t like that anymore. Now, it seemed things like that slipped out of his mind easily. 

Sometimes Wild asked Hyrule to tell him stories about the people they’d befriended. It was always a toss-up if the stories would end with them laughing and happily reminiscing, or sitting close together, drenching in misery as they ached for forgotten friendships.

It was difficult. Difficult to form connections knowing they would have to end, and difficult to break those connections when the time came. 

There were times when it became too much. Times when they wanted to stop for a little while, but didn’t want the burden of human connection. At those times, it was easier to find a nice, uninhabited forest to make their home for a few weeks. 

Having lived in the woods for a good part of his childhood, Hyrule was already more than comfortable doing that. Wild took a bit longer to adjust but once he did, he was as at home in the woods as Hyrule was. 

As long as it wasn’t the middle of winter- and it never was, for them- the woods offered them the perfect place to enjoy the freedom that came with being wanderers

~~~

Today had been a bad day so far, and Hyrule didn’t foresee it getting any better. 

He’d woken up sluggish, inexplicably tired despite the fact that he’d slept like a rock the night before. The rest of the morning hadn’t been much better, for no perceivable reason. Everything had proceeded like it always did in the mornings.

One at a time, the guards had escorted Hyrule and Wild to the washroom to shower and get ready for the day. Once they were both back in the room and dressed, Breakfast had been brought to them by the guards. 

They’d given pancakes with maple syrup and a side of fruit and a few slices of bacon for breakfast today. The pancakes and maple syrup usually would’ve excited Hyrule- he had an infamous sweet tooth- but today he could hardly muster up a smile at the sight of it. 

Wild noticed his lack of enthusiasm and sent him a concerned look, but Hyrule had shrugged it off and kept his gaze firmly on his plate for the rest of the meal. He didn’t want to worry Wild for no reason. He doubted he was actually sick, so there was no need to say anything and there was nothing Wild could do if he did.

After they ate, their plates and utensils had been taken away. Wild and Hyrule had more privileges than most mages in this research facility did. It was a perk that came with being two of the residents that had lived there the longest- eight years for Wild, and four years for Hyrule- but they still weren’t allowed to keep the dull plastic knives they were given to eat with. 

A shame. Hyrule would have loved to keep one of them tucked under his mattress with the rest of his contraband items, but the guards always double-checked that all of the utensils were returned after every meal. 

Then they were left alone for a half hour or so, as was usual. It was a tense period of time as they waited to see if the researchers had anything planned for them today, or if they got to spend their day inside their room, entertaining themselves. 

When the guards returned, Hyrule was the only one called out of the room. Wild was left sitting on his bed, face passive as he watched Hyrule leave. The only reason Hyrule could tell the other boy was both relieved he hadn’t been summoned and a little worried for Hyrule was because he’d known Wild for so long. 

Wild had a habit of going stone-faced whenever one of the guards or scientists were around. Hyrule couldn’t blame him for that. The two of them had already gotten enough of their privacy taken away from them. They didn’t need to give the scientists a front-row seat to their inner thoughts and feelings as well. 

Hyrule followed the guards at a sedate pace, not able to muster up the energy to move any faster. (He was careful not to move too slowly, though. He knew from experience that the guards wouldn’t hesitate to drag him if they felt he was moving slowly on purpose.) A familiar feeling of anxiety bubbled in his stomach. He wondered what he would be made to do today. Hopefully, it wouldn't be anything too strenuous. 

He was taken to one of the standard testing rooms. There were several of these rooms in the building, and Hyrule was well acquainted with all of them. They all looked the same, with white cinderblock walls, a concrete floor, and one wall being made entirely of a one-way window so the researchers could observe him. The only furnishings in the rooms were a table and chair off to one side which were bolted to the floor and a speaker tucked up in one of the corners of the ceiling. 

Hyrule, used to this routine after so many years, went and took a seat in the chair. As always, one of the researchers came to take his blood pressure and listen to his breathing. They did these sorts of physical exams before every test they performed on him, and it was so routine that Hyrule barely registered when it happened anymore. 

Soon, the researcher was done jotting things down on their clipboard and exited the room. Hyrule sighed and slumped in his seat a little. All he wanted to do was curl up in his bed and sleep. Maybe when he got back to their room, he could ask Wild to read aloud to him from the physics textbooks they’d been given. Learning about momentum and friction usually put Hyrule right to sleep, even if Wild loved it. (For some weird reason.)

That was the one upside of being a mage, Hyrule thought sarcastically as he stared dully at his reflection in the window across the room from him. Once the government found out you had magic, you never had to worry about school ever again. They were given textbooks and notebooks to keep themselves entertained when they weren’t needed for experiments, but they weren’t actually expected to know any of the material. Which was good, because Hyrule couldn’t imagine having to take exams on this stuff. He never managed to stay away for more than the first chapter of that stupid physics textbook-

A sudden noise crackled through the overhead speaker, startling Hyrule out of his thoughts. 

“Alright, Hyrule. We’re just going to be doing some energy tests today. Standard stuff, okay?” When he registered the voice and what it had said, he breathed a sigh of relief. He knew that voice, and he was glad that this scientist would be the one running his tests today. 

There was a constantly rotating staff of researchers that Wild and Hyrule interacted with on a near-daily basis, but there were three main scientists who seemed to be in charge of the facility. The one they saw the most often was a positively ancient man with a rather eccentric personality. Every time Hyrule saw the man, he grew more and more surprised that he hadn’t passed away from old age yet. The second was a severe-looking woman in her mid-forties who never spoke to them unless it was to give them an order. Both Wild and Hyrule agreed she was the worst to deal with.

The last, and the one who was apparently overseeing his tests today, was a young woman in her twenties that Hyrule suspected was an apprentice of sorts to the other two. (Probably a replacement for when the old man finally kicked the bucket, Hyrule thought snidely.) Hyrule didn’t know what her name was, though Wild probably did. He was always better at paying attention to and remembering details than Hyrule was. 

Everything about the third scientist was soft. From her voice, to her mannerisms, to the way she treated the two of them. Hyrule rarely got a chance to look at her- or any of the other scientists- but when he did, he thought that she even looked soft. She had a rounded face and softly curling white hair that fell to her shoulders. Her face was faintly familiar, and every time Hyrule looked at her, he was reminded of his mother. 

He hated her for that, a little bit.

“Hyrule? Are you ready?” Hyrule blinked, the woman’s voice startling him back to reality once again. He hadn’t given any form of acknowledgement to her previous statement, he realized. 

‘Yeah, I’m ready,“ he confirmed.

“Okay, great!” The bit of warmth in her voice made Hyrule want to melt into the floor. He pushed that urge away. “We’re going to bring in the first artifact now. I’ll run you through the procedure as always, but I know you’re a pro at this by now, so we should get done pretty quickly.” 

She was right- testing magical artifacts, figuring out what their purpose was, and trying to find a limit to their power was one of the most common things they had him and Wild do. It was usually an easy and painless job, as long as the magic cast on the objects was inherently harmful. (if it was- well, that was a different story.)

Hyrule turned his gaze toward the door. Like clockwork, a man wearing a hazmat suit wheeled in a cart with an ancient-looking wooden box sitting on it. That must be the first item he’d be working with today. Once the cart was in the middle of the room, the man approached him with a familiar device in his hands. Hyrule, still on autopilot, lifted his leg, allowing the man to wave the device over this magic suppression cuff, deactivating it. 

Instantly, Hyrule felt a wave of relief wash over him. His magic, which the cuff had been suppressing, swelled up within himself. When the cuff was active it squished his magic down. Hyrule could still feel it, but he couldn’t access it. 

Hyrule didn’t know how the cuffs worked. All he knew was that he hated everything about them. Being unable to access his magic was like one of his limbs had been paralyzed. He knew it was still there, but he wasn’t able to make it do anything. 

When the researcher was done turning off the cuff, he shuffled off to the side of the room. Hyrule knew he would wait until the tests were done, and then reactivate the cuff before Hyrule was let out of the room. The only door out of the room would remain locked until then.

Testing was the only time the suppression cuffs were turned off. They had to be deactivated to allow Wild and Hyrule to use their magic for the tests. The scientists were always careful to only turn the cuffs off when they were locked in a secure room with a locked door, and under constant scrutiny.

They were a little bit stupid, in Hyrule's opinion. It didn’t matter if he was in a locked room and under constant watch. When he had his magic, he could simply unlock the doors, or force the guards to turn their attention away from him. When he was finished with whatever he needed to do, he could walk right back to where he’d been before, and no one would be any wiser.

Honestly, given how adept both Wild and Hyrule had become at making themselves unnoticeable, it would be stupidly easy to get out of the facility, 

The only reason they stayed was the fact that they knew they’d gotten off easily. Some mages got shipped off to use their magic to fight in wars. The fact that the two of them were only in a research facility where they got three healthy meals a day and a comfortable place to sleep wasn't something to be overlooked. Hyrule knew they wouldn’t be as lucky if they tried to escape and got caught a second time.

They’d seen what happened to mages who managed to escape from research facilities and then were caught again, and it wasn’t pretty. What they needed was a guaranteed permanent ticket out of here. So far, they’d come up empty.

The overhead speaker crackled to life once again, the scientist speaking the first instructions, and Hyrule heaved himself to his feet.

Gods, he hoped the scientist was right, and they would be able to finish early today. 

He was so tired. 

~~~

When Wild and Hyrule stumbled across the Lon family’s house, they hadn’t been looking for civilization, and they certainly weren’t expecting civilization to find them, but that’s exactly what happened.

Neither of them realized their feet had found a well-worn path until they were stumbling out of the woods. The trees surrounding them slowly transitioned from naturally planted oaks and maples and pines to neat rows of apple and pear trees. The pair slowed as they walked through the orchard, confused. They knew there was a town within a day’s walk of here, but they hadn’t expected to find any civilization in this forest. 

Soon, the trees fell away, turning into a large field with a house and a barn tucked away near the edge of the woods. A garden filled to bursting with vegetables lay near the house, and a paddock with a few horses and goats stretched out as far as they could see into the field.

It was a large property and very well taken care of, especially for this time period. Wild and Hyrule exchanged glances, smiles creeping across their faces. 

“Hyrule, when was the last time we ate fresh pears?”

“Couldn't tell you.” Despite Hyrule’s short answer, they both knew what the other was thinking. The owners of the house wouldn’t miss two or three pears, especially if they didn’t see Hyrule and Wild take the fruit. No one was outside, and if they were quick they might be able to take some and leave before anyone came out of the house or barn.

In no time at all, Wild had climbed up into one of the pear trees and was tossing the fruit down to Hyrule. He had just thrown down the third one when a shout sounded from behind them.

“What the hell are you two doing?!” 

“Oh, shit!” Wild yelped, nearly falling out of the tree as he was startled. He managed to turn his fall into a somewhat controlled descent, landing awkwardly next to Hyrule, who’d already turned to face off with the person who had yelled. 

 A boy, maybe a few years older than them, was stomping across the field from the direction of the house. He had strawberry blonde hair and was wearing a red tunic, and he looked pissed.

Wild and Hyrule winced, glancing at each other. 

Busted.

“Those are my trees! The pears only just started to ripen, and you come in here and try to take advantage of my hard work? Oh, no, absolutely not.” As the boy stomped closer, his anger seemed to drain out of him. Wild could feel him examining the pair of them, and taking stock of their dirty appearances and slightly-too-thin bodies. By the time he had drawn to a stop in front of them, he seemed to have deflated. 

The teen didn’t look irritated anymore, but the pity in his eyes was almost worse. 

Hyrule and Wild liked their lifestyle, even if it maybe wasn't the best for them. It was better than the alternative. They might have gotten three square meals a day in the research facility, but they would take their freedom over that anytime, even if it meant going hungry occasionally. 

If anyone wanted to pity them over their appearance, their usual reaction was to leave. There was no reason to stick around where they would be drowning in that sticky sweet emotion known as pity. It wasn’t like anyone could stop them from leaving, anyway.

Then the stranger seemed to make up his mind, and the pity vanished from his face, being replaced by an expression of irritation. Wild couldn’t tell if the teen was actually irritated or if he was putting on a mask to hide his true emotions.

He didn't get the time to figure it out, because in no time at all Wild and Hyrule were on their knees in the garden, pulling weeds. Neither of them were quite sure how they got there. The stranger- apparently named Legend- had steamrolled any of their protests. He insisted they helped as a repayment for the pears they took. 

Since they had nothing better to do, they hadn’t protested too much. 

After they were done in the garden, Legend offered to let them clean up using his family's bath house. When they were hesitant, he insisted, saying that since they were only so dirty because he had them working in the garden all afternoon, he should let them bathe. 

When they’d finished and returned back to the house, there were steaming mugs of tea waiting for them. By the time they were finished with the tea, there was a pot of stew bubbling over the fire. Legend wordlessly shoved bowls of thick venison stew into their hands, refusing to meet their eyes.

Wild narrowed his eyes at the bowl suspiciously. Had it been drugged, or poisoned? Why was Legend being so weirdly nice to them and giving them food? There must be something wrong with the soup. Wild quickly flicked his magic out, testing the food, looking for anything wrong with the stew.

Just as quickly as he sent it out, his magic withdrew into his body and settled calmly within him, curling up contently. There was nothing wrong with the stew, so Wild reluctantly ate. It was a bit flavorless, but still filling.

He missed how Legend’s eyes narrowed in his direction for a moment when he had used his magic to test the soup.

After they had all finished dinner- awkwardly and in silence- it was already dark, and rain was pattering softly against the windows of the house. Neither Wild nor Hyrule made an effort to excuse themselves from Legend’s house, as neither of them were eager to go out in the rain. They would continue abusing Legend’s generosity for as long as he would let them. 

Surprisingly, Legend’s generosity extended further than expected. He offered them his family’s spare mattress, dragging it out from the storeroom and leaving it in the living room, close to the fire. He huffed a gruff goodnight and retreated to the second floor of the house. Wild got the impression that Legend half expected the pair of them to have left by the time morning came. 

The mattress was small. It clearly wasn't made for two people, but neither of them minded. They were clean, full, warm, and their magic was giving them no warnings of danger. They were more comfortable than they had been in a while, no matter how cramped the bed was. 

They were more than used to sleeping curled around each other anyway. 

Wild was ready to drift off to sleep like that, curled around Hyrule and warmed by the embers in the fireplace at his back. Hyrule seemed to have a different idea, though, his voice breaking Wild from the content haze that had settled over his mind.

“I think Legend is a mage.” 

That certainly caught Wild’s attention. Wild stiffened, anty semblance of sleep being yanked away from him. He hadn’t even considered that as a possibility. Was that why Legend was being so kind? Because he knew they had magic and he was trying to be kind to his fellow mages who looked down on their luck?

“Why would you think that?” He asked.

“I can just feel it. When he looks at us… It feels like he's actually seeing us. The real us. And he doesn't feel like a normal human. It’s not exactly the same as the other mages we’ve seen, but I’m pretty sure he has magic.”

Wild didn’t respond, and eventually, Hyrule drifted off to sleep. There really wasn’t anything more to say about that. Either Hyrule was right or he was wrong. Either Legend had magic or he didn’t. 

It didn’t really matter. The two of them would be gone soon, anyway. 

When they woke the next morning, they found Legend sitting at the table, waiting for them with another pot of tea. 

So they had breakfast with him and then helped him with chores around the house. The next thing they knew, Legend’s father and brothers (all five of them) had returned from whatever errand they had been running the previous day. They had been surprised to return home to find three people in the house when they were expecting only one, but it had all been smoothed over easily.

Before Wild and Hyrule knew it, they were being offered a place to stay. As long as they earned their keep, they could live with the Lon family as long as they wished. 

Hyrule was insistent they would be leaving soon, though Wild had his doubts. He didn’t say anything to Hyrule, but he knew how easily staying one day turned into staying two, then a week, and then a month, and then longer. He suspected they would be living with the Lons for much longer than planned.

So they did. A few weeks into their stay, they came back to the house to find their mattress moved into what had previously been a spare room. They had become a permanent fixture in the house now. Dread slowly crept through Wild when he realized that. 

The Lon family was kind. They got along well with Wild and Hyrule, even if there was more teasing exchanged than kind words. Now the Lon family thought that WIld and Hyrule were going to stay. 

And Wild knew they couldn't.

They could never stay anywhere.

But a few weeks turned into a month. Then a month turned into half a year, and the leaves had long since turned to bright golds and brilliant reds and then fallen from the trees, and there was a fire burning in the hearth more often than not.

Wild and Hyrule both knew they should leave and spare themselves the heartache of growing close to someone before eventually having to leave them. 

But they didn’t.

~~~

Wild let out a jaw-cracking yawn, tucking his head under Hyrule’s chin. The two of them were curled up together on Wild’s bed. It was a bit awkward to cuddle like this, given that Wild was half a foot taller than Hyrule, and the bed was made to only fit one person, but they made it work. 

The pair of them didn’t sleep in the same bed every night, but it wasn't unusual. For the most part, the only friendly physical contact they could expect to receive was from each other, and sometimes they needed more than a brief hug. Some nights, it was an overwhelming sense of loneliness that drove them together. Some nights, one of them would wake up shivering with fear from a nightmare, and crawl into the other’s bed.

And some nights, like tonight, one of them would come back from testing and be too tired to even support their own weight. 

Usually, it was Hyrule who was subjected to the more draining experiments. He was the more magically powerful of the two, after all. Recently, however, Wild has been receiving more attention from the scientists. 

It was leading to more situations like this, where Wild was left lying prone on his bed, barely able to muster the energy to speak. Just as Wild usually did for him, Hyrule gathered all the blankets and pillows from his bed and took them over to Hyrule’s. After he got Wild comfortably situated, he climbed into the bed after him.

It took nearly a half hour of laying in silence for Wild to gain the energy to speak. “They’re becoming more and more interested in my time magic. I think they’re starting a new project.” His voice was muffled, spoken into Hyrule’s shoulder.

“I’ll be honest, Wild, I really don’t care about what the scientists are working on.”

Wild huffed. Hyrule could see he was irritated. It made Hyrule curious- normally, Wild didn’t care anymore than he did about the experiments the researchers were doing. If he was trying to tell Hurue about them now, when he was obviously exhausted, it must be something important.

“I think they’re trying to figure-” Wild was interrupted by another large yawn. Hyrule was about to tell him that he could tell him tomorrow, but he needed to go to sleep now, but Wild finished before he could. “They’re trying to figure out time travel.“

Hyrule frowned. “That’s not possible. Magic can do a lot of stuff, but time travel? There’s no way…”

Wild shrugged. ‘I dunno. I can slow time down a little bit. It’s not out of the question that if we combined our magic, we could stop time for a little bit. And that’s pretty close to time travel.“

Wild fell asleep soon after that, but Hyrule was kept awake, ideas swirling through his head.

Time travel?

Hmmm….

~~~

There was no doubt in Wild or Hyrule’s minds that the Lon family was a coven. 

There was no other reason for seven mages to be living together, especially when most of them weren’t even related. (Everyone knew that Twilight was the only one of Time’s gaggle of children that was biologically his. Everyone knew that the man cared for them all equally anyways.)

Covens were groups of mages who had bound their magic together. The process of joining a coven made your magic more powerful. It came with the side effect of tying your soul permanently to your coven mates. If they died, it would feel like part of your soul was being torn out. But many found the risk was worth it for the increased power, and the promise of family. Because if nothing else, your coven was your family.

There weren’t any covens left in the time period the two had come from. After magic had been exposed to the world, and all mages were being hunted down to serve their governments, groups of mages congregating together became too dangerous.

The two had run into a few covens while they had been traveling. Some of the covens were generous to who they perceived as two covenless young mages with no guidance. Priceless knowledge could be learned from them. If Hyrule and Wild stuck-around long enough to be taught, that is.

Some covens were more secretive, barely acknowledging Hyrule and Wild also had magic. Neither of them could blame the covens that choose to disregard their shared magic. Even before magic had been revealed to the world, mages were secretive. (After seeing what happened when magic was finally revealed, Hyrule and Wild knew they were right to be.)

So, when the Lon family hadn't breathed a word about magic to them after they had been living there for six months, Hyrule and Wild knew better than to bring it up themselves. Both parties knew that the others were mages, but neither spoke of it. If the Lons didn’t want to bring up their magic, Wild and Hyrule certainly weren't going to do it either. 

Hyrule had been the first one to pick up on the fact that the family they were staying with was magical. He’d told Wild his suspicions the first night they’d stayed in the house. At the time, Wild hadn’t cared. But the longer the pair stayed with the family, the more convinced Wild became that Hyrule was right. 

There were the little things that were just unnatural enough to be noticed. The garden was too well kept for how little time the family spent tending to it. Somehow the flowers continued to bloom and the grass remained lush and green long after the autumn frost had started to set in. The food the family had available was too high quality for this time period, especially for people who lived in the woods with the nearest town being barely more than a village. Somehow the house was kept spotless, though neither of them ever saw anyone cleaning.

Then there were the bigger things. Hyrule had caught both Wind and Four having full conversations with no one, speaking into thin air as if they were talking with spirits. There was the strangely tame wolf who only seemed to turn up around the house when Twilight was gone. There was the chest full of enchanted masks that Time kept under his bed. 

There was all that- the big things, the little things, and all things in between- and then there was the fact that Wild was quite sure the family could see past their glamor magic. 

Normally, the magic they surrounded themselves with disguised both their clothes and their modern mannerisms. It translated their words into something understandable to those who were listening. 

Although the coven had welcomed Hyrule and Wild into their home, they’d stared for too long at the pair's strange outfits. Most people’s eyes usually slid off their modern clothing without even seeing it in the first place. It was the same with modern terms and slang words. When Wild had slipped up and mentioned “texting” to Wind, the boy should have heard “writing a letter,” or something similar. Based on Wind’s confused face and the conversation Wild later overheard where Wind asked Warriors what a “text message” was, that hadn’t happened.

It was plain to see that the coven could see straight through their magic, but it was also plain that the coven was ignoring it, purposefully not mentioning their strange behavior, clothing, and language.

There was no way their host family actually understood why Wild and Hyrule acted so strangely- time travel wasn’t the first thing that popped into people’s heads when they saw someone acting strangely, even if they did know about magic. It was more likely the family thought that they were foreigners, and were using their magic to try and hide that fact.

Still…

Through their silence, the family had made it clear that they knew about Wild and Hyrule’s magic. It also made it clear that they weren’t going to bring it up. 

And if they weren’t going to, then Wild and Hyrule wouldn’t either.

~~~

“Hyrule, I think the tests are getting worse.”

“...”

“See, this is what I mean. Half the time you return from testing, you’re unconscious. It makes me look weird, talking out loud to no one like this.”

“...”

“I don’t know how much longer either of us can live like this, Hyrule. You can barely stay awake in the evenings, and I… I can’t remember what I did yesterday. My memories just keep slipping away, and it gets worse every time I get taken for experimentation. We need to find a way we can get out of here. Permanently.”

“...”

~~~

There wasn’t a singular moment that made Wild decide enough was enough. It had been coming for a while, that creeping feeling of dread that told him they had to leave soon if they wanted to be able to leave at all. They’d already become attached to this family so if they didn’t leave soon, they would never leave.

He knew it would already hurt more to leave this family than any other. Wild would miss cuddling near the fire with Wolfie, would miss cooking dinner every night for more than two people, would miss the loud camaraderie and the quiet companionship he had found in this house. 

But they had to leave. They didn’t belong here. 

Wild had had enough. He was leaving. And where he went, Hyrule went. 

It was an early spring night, nearly nine months after they had arrived. The whole family was gathered in the main room of the house, each absorbed in their own tasks. Hyrule was curled next to Legend and nearly half asleep. Wild was sitting on the floor in front of the chair Time was sitting in. His legs stretched out in front of him to put his feet near the warmth of the hearth, and Wild would almost say he was content, except for the little fact that he knew this peace couldn’t last.

He could tell Hyrule wasn’t happy when Wild shot him that look. The look that said, “I’m done, I can't do this anymore, We have to go.” Hyrule glared back at Wild and then closed his eyes, ignoring Wild on purpose. 

Looks like they would be talking about it later, then. (Not that they could talk about it now, given that they were in a room with seven other people.) Wild leaned back against Time’s legs. He looked nonchalant, as if the exchange the two had didn’t happen, but there was tension in him now, because now he knew they were on their way out of this house and the lives of its inhabitants.

It turns out “later” means that very night, after everyone else had gone to bed.

Hyrule might have been acting like he was unhappy with Wild’s decision, but he knew just as well as Wild did that it was time to leave. They barely had to exchange words before they were both packing up the belongings they were going to take with them. 

They left behind most of the things they had gained while they were staying here. They wouldn’t need most of it, and they didn’t want to steal from the Lon family. They had been so kind to them, they didn’t deserve to have the two of them steal from them. 

Soon, everything they were going to take with them was packed up. They stood shoulder to shoulder in their room, looking down at the bed they’d been sharing for the last nine months.

Eventually, Hyrule turned to Wild. “Ready?‘ he whispered.

“Yes,” Wild lied. Neither of them moved for quite some time, neither wanting to make the first move to leave.

This time, it was Wild who broke the silence. He shuffled over to their mattress, lifting it up and pulling the Slate out from under it. They hadn’t needed it while they’d been staying here, but now they had a use for it again. “Do you think we’ll ever find a place we’ll want to stay forever?”

“I doubt it. If that was going to happen, it would have happened already.” Hyrule murmured back to him, not meeting his eyes.

“You’re probably right.” Wild flicked the Slate in the direction of their belonging, sucking them into the Slate to be safely stored away until they needed them again. 

With that, they turned to each other, instinctually getting into position to cast their spell. Wild could see Hyrule’s grip on the Slate was so tight his knuckles were bone-white. He didn’t look up, knowing if he did, he would see tears trickling down Hyrule’s face. 

“Now,” he whispered.

In a shower of blue sparks, the two disappeared, gone from the lives of the Lon coven forever. 

[scekrex]

Hey first time requesting a prompt but maybe a Sinner!Adam x Incubus!Reader story? Maybe he hired reader to try to explore his sexuality and ends up liking his vibe so they hang out outside of sex and either of them end up catching feelings maybe?

Okay so I assume you wanted fluff, what you get though is hurt, frustration and an open ending lol I got carried away so if ya want fluff instead just lemme know and I can make that happen

I love it - you son of a bitch

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language, hurt - no comfort

note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers

When Adam had first paid for your services he had never expected for the night to end with cuddles. But there he was, laying in his own messy sheets that stank of sweat and cum and you were curled up against his chest, taking deep, long and steady breaths as you slept.

He had never been the guy to cuddle - that was not entirely true though. Back in Eden when it had been just him and Lilith there had also been cuddles. He had hugged the woman, had held her head close to his heart to let her listen to the steady beat of it pumping blood through his body for her and only her. But that had been long ago and after the blonde babe had cheated on him with God’s favorite and had left him because she had chosen hell over life with him, he had never let a person get close enough to hurt him like that again. No angel he had fucked in heaven had ever wanted to stay the night, neither had he ever spent the night at his hookups’ places.

But now that he was trapped in hell, surrounded by sinners he saw no point in following and obeying heaven’s rules anymore, not when Lucifer’s kingdom granted him free will. He had thought that a stranger would do well to experiment with his sexual interests. The first man had always found men attractive in the way he found women attractive, he had just never acted on it. Back in the early days in Eden, back when Lucifer had paid him visits because the king of hell had felt pity for the human - Adam had been so alone after all, back then he had told the former angel how majestic he had thought the blonde looked.

You mumbled something that the brunette was not able to understand as you inched closer to the taller male, seeking warmth. When his golden wings wrapped around you to keep you warm, Adam questioned not only his sexuality, he also questioned his emotions and their stability. Because why in God’s holy name was he allowing a sinner to touch his divine body so softly, almost lovingly? Why didn’t he kick you out when he had the chance to do so? For Christ’s sake, you had even offered to leave. Adam had basically invited you to stay the night. And deep down he knew that this would always remain the first but never the last meeting of you and him.

-

The brunette had invited you over quite a few times after your first hookup, he had always assured you that it was just because the sex was good. Yet ‘just sex’ meetings turned into you and him ordering take out, watching movies and cuddling again more often than they ended in sex. Adam knew he was getting attached and while you sent him signals that clearly showed you were honestly interested in him in the same way, the first man found himself quite scared of the new feelings that were slowly growing stronger.

Your routine that concluded Adam calling you to book your service, you coming over to his place late at night and you two doing whatever got crushed when you sent him a quick text in the middle of the day, asking the former angel if he was interested in grabbing a smoothie together and just go on a walk afterwards.

The brunette’s hands were shaking when he read those few words over and over again, not able to fully understand them, yet he responded ‘sure’ before he pocketed his phone and left his home to meet you outside.

“Sup, big bitch, didn’t think you’d actually fucking agree,” you greeted the first man with a confident smile on your lips as you leaned against the dirty wall of the building Adam lived in, the brunette only rolled his eyes at your comment as he tried to play it cool. “If someone’s anyone’s bitch here then you’re my fucking bitch,” he countered, you did not let that slide though. The former angel headed into the direction of where the store you wanted to visit was, expecting you to simply catch up to him - and you did. “Yeah?” the shiteating grin on your face was telling Adam a lot, yet he did not address it, “‘s that why you moan my fucking name loud enough for your cunt neighbors to complain about all the fucked out noises you make?” Adam side-eyed you, he decided to remain silent though, anything he wanted to say would blow his cover, would force him out of the closet and into the pit.

His silence made the vibe change though, he noticed you getting a little more serious as you spoke up again, “Y’know that you don’t fucking need to pretend that you just like the motherfucking sex, right? Like bitch, I know I’m good, probably the best you’ll find down here, right after Angel Dust, but that fucking amazing that it causes you to casually wanna hang out with me? Sweetface, even my dick isn’t hellish enough to fucking do so.” That caused the taller brunette to stop in his tracks and look down at you. His usually neutral eyes were filled with so many emotions, too many for you to read any of them. His voice matched the look in his eyes though, he sounded desperate, hurt even, yet his voice also held anger and frustation, “The fuck do you wanna hear? That I caught feelings for a cheap slut? That I could’ve had the most fucking heavenly dick ever before those cunts left me? That I fucking hate that the most amazing person I’ve ever met is fucking dirty demon filth? Do you wanna fucking hear that?”

His words left you speechless, you weren’t sure how to respond at all, Adam felt like a ticking bomb and every word you might speak would get him closer to explode. So you just looked in his eyes and said, “I want you to cut your bullshit act and tell me the goddamn truth, Adam.” You had never said his name before, not when he had introduced himself, not when you had watched movies with him, your head in his lap.

Adam didn’t want the truth though, he was scared of the truth, he was scared of his feelings. He hated that he had developed feelings for unholy filth like you, he hated that you treated him with respect even though he was the most respectless piece of shit in all of hell, he hated that he loved you on so many levels. “The truth? The truth, motherfucker, is that you’re a fucking bitch but I still somehow ended up fucking falling for your slutty, bitchy self.”

[space-dreams-world]

New Au: Bruce Wayne née Fenton:

DP x DC AU:

Thomas Wayne is a doctor, right? Anyway Danny Fenton is studying medicine so he can better help/protect Dani and her clone bros in case they destabilize again. The thing is that Danny and Thomas look exactly alike so much that they could be mistaken for twins, save a few features.

Danny befriends him and they get along swimmingly.

(Danny is generally a good person, Gotham, welcomes the extra help and energy he provides for the city. He becomes known as the Angel of Gotham, and Bruce's favorite hero the Grey ghost was inspired by his acts.)

He introduces him to a pre-pregnant Martha Wayne and they also get along very well, until tragedy strikes.

Thomas is infertile and or most of his sperm lead to miscarriages. Due to the pressure of the public, parents and age, Thomas asks Danny if he could help them out so to speak. (Alternatively, I would like it if they were a polycule. Also Alfred knows. To avoid scandal as well, since Danny and Thomas look so similar.)

A few months later, Bruce Wayne is born to the happy couple's delight and Danny only asks if he could be the boy's uncle or godfather.

Danny spends the next few years visiting the family in between taking care of the Infinite realms. Then tragedy strikes again, and Bruce is an orphan, Danny comes a few days later thinking everything is okay, when it's not. He is devastated to find out that his friends are dead and decides to help Alfred raise the boy.

(Afterwards he goes to their graves and promises he'll do what he can to help raise their son, not realizing that their spirits are right behind him, thanking him.)

The years go by and Bruce grows up relatively normal.

(One night Danny tucks him into bed, and Bruce tirelessly says thank you dad. Danny overhears this and is struck with grief as he knows his true birthright, but thinks it's for Thomas.)

When Bruce disappears to train to become the Batman, Danny and Alfred both panic as neither can find him. They decide to continue as normal with Danny visiting Alfred sometimes.

(During this time Danny helps with Gotham, brings food to the circus acts that come to town, helps abused women get on their feet from their husbands, helps street kids get better shelter, food, water, helps at the hospital when they need it, even helps give birth to a baby Drake, etc..)

When Bruce comes back to Gotham, Danny is nowhere to be found or at least hasn't been to the Manor in a few months. That gets put on the backburner as he now is the Dark knight and has to help Gotham.

(Danny is on vacation with his kids and their aunt.)

Side note: Bruce doesn't really have powers, just his limits are a lot higher than normal, ie:

Slight super strength, some floating = gliding, advanced healing but not by much, higher tolerance to pain and slight invisibility = camouflage with the shadows. If Bruce got more ecto energy than maybe he might develop, but it is unlikely.

Two situations where Bruce confronts his birth father:

1- Justice league needs to summon a ghost specialist as something supernatural is afoot. They summon Phantom as he is seen as a friendly guide to spirits, shades, etc.…

The moment Danny locks eyes with Batman he rushes straight out of the summon circle and goes to hug Batman. Everyone is confused as they thought he would attack, but he is just scolding Batman for disappearing without leaving a note for him and A. Batman is confused as he doesn't recognize him and Phantom asks if there is anyone he trusted with his identity.

Basically Superman and Wonder Woman stay as Danny de-transforms and now Bruce recognizes him.

2- The bat family have died a lot, and so one day, Bruce gets hurt and to check for poison in his blood he runs through the Bat computer to find out his blood is different than before as part of his DNA is unknown now, so he thinks that the Bat computer is faulty, not before Alfred reveals to him the truth of his birth.

(1 and 2 can go together. You can do a reverse where female Danny Fenton looks like Martha Wayne and she is infertile, where the roles are reversed, but Bruce is still a boy.)