#haven's writing

[havenshereagain]

DPxDC Idea

Danny working at Wayne Enterprises as some sort of engineer, uses the in-house app for all his blueprints and stuff

He starts getting notes from a coworker in-app, and assumes its this annoying older guy in his department who constantly undermines him because of his age, despite his education and past achievements (i feel like in this AU the Fentons react well to the reveal and they work together on a number of non-lethal ecto inventions that have Danny's name attached to them)

Except one day his coworker mentions never using the app, and Danny suddenly realizes there's only one other TD he could've been arguing with in the notes of the app

[the-and-sign-anon]

Sweater

Word Count: 831

BSD Masterlist

Dazai made a lot of money when he was an executive in the Port Mafia. He squirreled most of it away, focusing instead on using his ADA wages to cover his daily expenses. His reasoning was to avoid suspicion from others who weren’t aware of his old mafia ties. But he just couldn’t help himself when it came to you. 

You were spending a day off wandering around the mall together. The weather was turning cold, so you threw on your favorite flannel on the way out the door that morning. Dazai was plenty warm in his usual trench coat, but he could tell you were still a bit chilly. When you passed by another clothing store and your eyes lingered on the new line of winter clothing, Dazai tugged softly on your hand to lead you inside. 

You took your time scouring the racks, running your fingers over the materials and checking sizes. Dazai looked around as well, eyes catching on a few things he thought you might like. His attention was returned to you when he realized you passed by a gorgeous sweater after checking the price tag. 

“Darling, why don’t you try this one on?”

You turned to see him holding the delicately woven sage green sweater you knew you couldn’t justify buying. It had beautiful darker green stitches forming a vine pattern around the neck, bottom hem, and wrists. Deep oranges and reds were added as little leaves to complete the look. 

“Dazai… I shouldn’t try on something I definitely won’t buy.”

“Come on, just try it. I want to see how perfect you look in it.”

You looked down with warm cheeks, but took the hanger from his hand regardless. A handful of other items later, you headed for the changing room. You took your time checking yourself in the mirror, looking at every angle and promising yourself you looked good. Dazai settled on a bench just outside the door waiting for you, applauding softly and encouraging you each time you stepped out to show him. 

The green sweater was left for last. You slipped back into your dark blue jeans, then pulled the sweater over your head. It was a perfect fit, which was no surprise. Dazai had made a point as soon as you started dating to learn your sizes and preferences and never forgot.

You peeked out the door, where Dazai had tucked his legs up to sit in a ball on the bench. He looked as perfect as ever, even in the fluorescent lights. His hair was styled in the perfectly messy way that begged you to run your fingers through it, his fresh bandages wrapping up his neck and down to his wrists. You still didn’t quite get how he considered you to be out of his league. 

“Come on, darling. I want to see.”

You stepped around the door with your hands tucked at your sides. Dazai’s eyes lit up and he seemed to freeze for a moment. His mind swirled as it hit him (certainly not for the first time) how lucky he was to have the life he did. How lucky he’d gotten that he was able to leave the Port Mafia behind and build something new. To have met you; to be loved by you. 

You gave a little twirl, showing off the sweater from every angle. When you met his eyes again, you let out a soft sigh as your shoulders slumped. 

“I knew I shouldn’t have tried it on. Now I really want it.”

“Then let’s get it.”

“Dazai-”

“Go get changed, then give me the sweater.”

You turned back, knowing there was no arguing with the look in his eyes. You did as he asked, bringing him the sweater after returning it to its hanger. You knew he didn’t have room in his budget for such a frivolous purchase either, so you tried as you walked up to the register together to convince him you didn’t need it. He ignored you of course, one hand gently holding yours while he set the sweater on the counter with the other. 

“Dazai…”

“You find everything okay today?”

“We sure did!”

You let out a long suffering sigh and watched him slip a platinum card you’d never seen before from his wallet. He swiped it while the employee folded and bagged your purchase, then grabbed the bag and led you back out of the store. 

“Dazai.”

“Yes, my love?”

“Where did that card come from?”

He hummed as if he hadn’t heard you, then tore off towards a bookstore, leaving you to follow with a bewildered expression that faded into deep affection as he practically bounced on his feet asking a staff member where books on suicide could be found. You were certainly going to question him later, but for now you had to get a leash on him so he didn’t scare any fellow customers with his excitement over his favorite reading subject. What a dork.

[havenshereagain]

Guys, someone made art of my latest JayTim fic!! I'm losing my mind over how great this art is, and that my fic inspired you so much, thank you 🩵🩵🩵🩵

@havenshereagain's fic As You Wish has been on the tumble dry setting in my brain all day, i HAD to draw something from it...

(took a little artistic license with this scene in having Cass announce her movie choice more pointedly)

[al4thea]

Is it a blessing or a curse to fall for a man who bears the weight of nameless sins, a killer haunted by his own guilt?

I mean, isn’t Soap the same as Ghost? They work in the same field and do mostly the same things. Just because Soap has a lighter step doesn’t mean he doesn’t have skeletons in his closet; he isn’t invulnerable to guilt, and maybe, just maybe, he finds comfort in knowing that both of them are damned to hell.

[mischievous-thunder]

I hear you call my name... And it feels like home

[havens-iphone]

── backwards and fowards ꫂৎ ; grumpy!hamzah part two

wc ⋮ 3k

authors note ⋮ the past 2 days have been the WORST. im so thankful that my senior resident is understanding and didnt tell the admin i took a personal day off😭💔 if any of yall are in med school, NEVER and i mean NEVER tell the admin ur taking off because ur sick or js need a day off😞 anyway, FINALLY a part 2 that many people have been waiting for!! i asked chatgpt if this makes cuz im so freaking sleep deprived😭😭

your phones shrill ringing shattered the silence, yanking you from restless sleep. disoriented, you blinked at the screen, your vision adjusting to the harsh glow in the darkness of your room.

hamzah.

for a moment, you just stared, your heart pounding against your ribs.

it had been almost three months. three months of radio silence, of watching the group continue on like you had never been a part of it. of feeling like an afterthought.

and now he calls?

a bitter laugh slipped past your lips as your thumb hovered over the screen. every emotion you’d been trying to swallow—anger, hurt, disappointment—rose like a tidal wave. you could feel the weight of all the things he had never said, all the times he had dismissed you like you were nothing but a nuisance, all the nights you spent wondering what you had done wrong.

the phone kept ringing.

and against your better judgment, you answered.

“…what?” your voice was hoarse, laced with exhaustion. you didnt bother masking your irritation.

there was a beat of silence. then—

“you finally picked up.”

hamzahs voice was quiet, but you could still hear the familiar edge, that same indifferent, too-cool tone he always had. like this was nothing. like he hadnt let months go by without a word.

you scoffed. “yeah, and? what do you want?”

a pause. he exhaled sharply, like he was already frustrated. frustrated? as if he had the right.

“i—” he hesitated, and for a second, you thought you heard something almost uncertain in his voice. almost. “look, mandys been worried about you. she wont shut up about how youve been ‘off.’”

you clenched your jaw, gripping the phone tighter. so thats it.

not because he was worried. not because he cared. but because mandy had probably badgered him into checking in.

“you couldve just let her handle it, then,” you snapped, your tone ice-cold. “you clearly didnt give a damn before. why pretend now?”

another pause. you could hear the faint sound of him shifting, like he was uncomfortable. good.

“whats your problem?” hamzah muttered, irritation creeping into his voice. “why are you acting all—”

“all what?” you cut him off sharply, sitting up in bed now. your hands were trembling, but not from nerves—from rage.

like a dam breaking, everything came pouring out.

“all quiet? all distant? gee, hamzah, i wonder why.” your voice shook with suppressed anger. “could it be because i spent months trying to be part of your stupid little group while you treated me like an inconvenience? like i was nothing but an annoying noise you couldn’t wait to shut up? could it be because every time i tried to be nice to you, you made me feel like an idiot for even trying?”

hamzah stayed silent, but you werent done.

“i mean, really, hamzah. you had no problem making it obvious how much you couldnt stand me.” you let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “but i guess that was just me being dramatic, right? just me reading into things?”

you could hear his breathing through the phone. it was uneven now.

“i never—”

“you never what?” you snapped, cutting him off before he could throw out some half-assed excuse. “you never meant to be an asshole? never meant to make me feel like shit every time i spoke? news flash, hamzah—intent doesn’t mean shit when the damage is already done.”

his silence was deafening.

the pain in your chest felt unbearable now, and you hated it—hated that after all this time, he still had the power to make you feel so small. but this time, you weren’t going to let it consume you.

you exhaled slowly, forcing your voice to steady. “listen, if mandys worried, you can tell her im fine. i dont need you checking in just because she asked you to.”

“…its not just mandy.” his voice was lower now, rougher.

you let out another laugh—emptier this time. “dont lie to me.”

“im not lying.”

for the first time in the conversation, his voice carried something unguarded. but you were too tired, too drained to decipher it.

it didnt matter.

there was nothing left to say.

“i dont know what you expect from me, hamzah,” you said, voice softer now, but just as firm. “im not going to keep chasing after someone who clearly doesnt want me around.”

and with that, you hung up.

you slam your phone on the mattress, fingers going right to your temple to massage it.

you swallow the lump in your throat as you let your eyes wander around the room. minutes pass as your mind stays empty.

suddenly, your knocked out of the trance you were in by your phone ringing. expecting it to be hamzah calling again, you let out a frustrated sigh as you reach for the vibrating phone.

the name mandy is illuminated on it. all the tension is relieved from your body as you answer it

"hey mandy.." you sigh, hoping she doesnt bring up the call she 'forced' hamzah to do.

"y/n.. i miss you," she stumbles on her words. "please, come to game night tomorrow? i want my bestfriend back."

your eyes continue to wander the room. your mouth opens, words not coming out just yet.

"fine, ill come." you responded. you could practically hear mandys goofy smile on the other side of the phone.

"thank you, y/n! 8:30 sharp."

you exhale as you hang up, slouching back in bed. slowly, you doze off.

game night was tense.

mandy had convinced you to come, but the moment you stepped into the apartment, you felt it—the weight of unspoken words.

hamzah barely looked at you, his jaw tight, fingers drumming against the table. you werent sure if it was guilt or frustration, and frankly, you didnt care.

you had barely spoken all night, answering only when necessary, until mandy suddenly slammed her drink down on the table.

"thats it," she snapped.

the room went still.

"what the hell is going on" mandy demanded, her gaze flickering between you and hamzah. "and do not even think about playing dumb. i know something happened."

you swallowed hard, looking away. you werent in the mood to hash this out in front of everyone.

but then—

"she hates me now," hamzah muttered.

your head snapped up. "excuse me?"

he let out a humorless laugh, running a hand down his face. "you do, dont you?"

your fingers clenched into fists. "you do not get to act like you are the victim here, hamzah."

mandys eyes widened. "oh, hell no." she turned on hamzah so fast, he barely had time to react. "you absolute dumbass."

hamzah blinked. "mandy—"

"no. shut up." she pointed at him accusingly. "you treated her like shit for months, made her feel like she did not belong, and now you are acting shocked that she does not want to be around you anymore are you kidding me"

hamzahs mouth opened, then shut.

mandy scoffed, crossing her arms. unbelievable. "you act all cold, push her away, and then what expect her to just take it forever?"

the room was dead silent.

you swallowed hard, looking at hamzah. his expression was unreadable, his eyes shadowed with something you could not place. but you were not going to fall for it.

you stood up, smoothing your shirt. "thanks for the invite, mandy, you said quietly. but i think i am done here."

before she could stop you, you grabbed your coat and walked out the door.

hamzah didnt say a word.

and for the first time, you didnt want him to.

it had been a week since that night, and you hadn’t heard from hamzah since.

you told yourself it was for the best. that there was no point in dwelling on someone who never valued you in the first place. and yet, the conversation still echoed in your mind—his voice, rough with something unspoken, mandy’s outrage, the suffocating silence that followed.

you weren’t sure what you expected from him. an apology? acknowledgment? anything?

but hamzah was nothing if not consistent—when faced with discomfort, he avoided it entirely.

so, you decided you would do the same.

or at least, that was the plan.

mandy and you were hanging out, her arms crossed as she fell into step beside you.

“still ignoring him?” she asked casually.

you sighed. “not ignoring. just… done.”

mandy snorted. “okay, but he’s not done.”

you frowned. “what does that mean?”

she sighed, running a hand through her hair. “he’s been weird. like, actually weird. keeps zoning out, barely talks in the group chat, and last night, he left mid-game without a word. that never happens.”

you shrugged, trying to ignore the way your heart clenched. “not my problem.”

mandy gave you a long, knowing look. “no, but you are his problem, apparently.”

you shook your head. “i don’t want to do this, mandy. i don’t want to sit around waiting for some half-assed apology that probably won’t even come.”

mandy was quiet for a moment. then, she nudged you lightly. “you don’t have to wait,” she said. “but if he does try, are you going to listen?”

you didn’t have an answer.

it was late when you heard the knock at your door.

you hesitated, debating whether to ignore it entirely. but something in you already knew who it was.

when you finally opened it, there he was—hamzah, standing in the dim hallway, hands shoved in his pockets.

for the first time in forever, he looked unsure of himself.

“hey,” he muttered.

you leaned against the doorframe, crossing your arms. “what do you want?”

he exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “i—” he stopped, as if he didn’t know what to say. then, finally— “i’m sorry.”

silence.

you stared at him, waiting for the usual excuses, the dismissive attitude. but none came.

hamzah swallowed, his jaw tight. “i was an asshole. i know that. and i don’t have a good excuse for it.”

that caught you off guard.

your arms loosened slightly. “…okay.”

he let out a breath, as if relieved you hadn’t slammed the door in his face.

“i just—” he looked down, then back at you. “i don’t know how to fix it. i don’t know if i can. but i wanted you to know that i do care. and that i’m sorry for making you think i didn’t.”

the words sat heavy in the air.

and for the first time, it wasn’t just empty noise.

you stared at him for a long moment, your heart aching in a way that felt unbearable.

“you think an apology fixes everything?” your voice was steady, but the weight of your hurt was impossible to hide.

hamzah flinched. “no. i dont.” he exhaled sharply, looking down. “i just—I didnt know how else to—”

“you didn’t know how else to what? treat me like shit?”

his head snapped up, guilt and something raw flashing in his eyes. “i was scared.”

the words were so quiet you almost didn’t catch them.

you blinked. “scared?”

hamzah let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “yeah. pathetic, right? you—” he gestured vaguely at you, frustration evident. “you make me feel things i dont know how to deal with. and instead of being normal about it, i just—” he sighed, hands gripping his hair. “ruined everything.”

your breath caught in your throat.

because now it all made sense. the way he always pushed you away the moment things got too real. the way he lashed out when you got too close.

“you couldve just told me,” you whispered.

hamzah’s jaw clenched. “i dont know how to do that. i dont know how to love someone without feeling like im about to lose myself in it.”

his voice was hoarse now, filled with something you werent sure you'd ever heard from him before—fear.

your walls wavered. because deep down, you knew what he meant.

hamzah swallowed, stepping closer, his voice softer now. “but losing you? that was worse. so much worse.”

the confession hung between you, delicate and fragile.

and god, you wanted to be angry. you wanted to tell him he was too late, that you had already started moving on.

but the truth was, you hadn’t.

not even close.

hamzah hesitated, searching your face. “do i still have a chance?”

your heart clenched. because despite everything, despite the hurt, despite the mess—you already knew the answer.

you sighed, closing your eyes for a brief second. then, finally—

“you better not screw it up this time.”

hamzah let out a shaky breath, his lips twitching into something close to a smile. and when he reached for your hand, this time—

you let him.

hamzah’s fingers hovered over yours, hesitant—like he was afraid you’d pull away. but you didn’t. not this time.

his touch was warm, cautious, as if he couldn’t believe you were still here, still willing to listen, still willing to try.

“youre scared of love?" you murmured, watching him carefully.

his throat bobbed as he swallowed. “yeah.”

you sighed, running a hand through your hair. “and you thought being cruel to me would fix that?”

hamzah winced. “i thought if i pushed you away first, it wouldnt hurt as much when you left.” his voice cracked slightly on the last word.

you sucked in a breath, your chest tightening.

“thats the thing, hamzah. i wasnt going to leave,” you whispered, shaking your head. “you were the one who did that.”

a shadow crossed his face, his gaze dropping to the floor. “i know,” he admitted, voice raw. “and i hate myself for it.”

silence stretched between you. the weight of his words settled deep in your bones.

and then, a familiar voice cut through the tension.

“you should hate yourself for it.”

you turned, startled, to see mandy standing in the doorway with her arms crossed. her eyes were sharp, filled with the kind of protective rage only a best friend could have.

hamzah stiffened. “mandy—”

“no. shut up,” she snapped, stepping forward. “i have watched her cry over you for weeks. i’ve watched her doubt herself because of the way you treated her. and now, you think one heartfelt confession is going to fix everything?”

hamzah’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue.

mandy’s gaze softened as she turned to you. “you don’t owe him anything.”

your throat tightened. because a part of you wanted to believe that. a part of you wanted to walk away. but another part—the one that had spent so long wishing for this moment—wasn’t ready to let go.

you looked at hamzah. “i don’t owe you anything,” you echoed, and he flinched at the words. “but… i want to give you another chance.”

his head snapped up, eyes widening slightly.

mandy groaned. “seriously?”

you shot her a look, a small smile tugging at your lips. “hes an idiot,” you admitted. “but hes my idiot.”

hamzah exhaled shakily, a mixture of relief and disbelief crossing his face. “i swear, i wont mess this up.”

mandy rolled her eyes. “you better not. because if you do, i will be the one to kill you.”

a laugh bubbled out of you, light and unexpected. hamzahs lips twitched, and for the first time in months, the tension between you all didn’t feel suffocating.

it felt like something new. something fragile, but real.

hamzah reached for your hand again—this time, without hesitation. and this time, you intertwined your fingers with his.

hamzahs fingers tightened around yours, as if he was afraid you would slip away if he let go. for a long moment, neither of you spoke. the weight of everything that had happened, everything that had been said, hung thick in the air between you.

mandy huffed, crossing her arms. “whatever. i’m not sticking around for the mushy part.” she shot hamzah a sharp look. “but i swear, if you make her cry again, i’ll ruin your life.”

hamzah gave a small, breathless laugh. “noted."

she turned to you, her expression softening. “i’ll be inside. don’t take too long.”

with that, she disappeared back into the apartment, leaving you and hamzah standing in the quiet of the night.

the cold air pressed in around you, but his hand in yours was warm. grounding.

you swallowed, shifting slightly. “so… what now?”

hamzah exhaled, his free hand raking through his hair. “i don’t know,” he admitted. “but i know i want to do it right this time. i want to be better. for you.”

your heart twisted at the raw honesty in his voice.

“you hurt me, hamzah,” you said softly. “a lot.”

his grip on your hand tightened, his gaze dropping. “i know,” he whispered. “and i hate myself for it. i don’t—i don’t deserve another chance.”

you let out a shaky breath, studying him. for once, he wasn’t hiding behind his usual indifference. there was no coldness, no walls. just hamzah, stripped of all the defenses he had spent so long building.

“maybe you don’t,” you said honestly. “but i want to give you one anyway.”

his eyes snapped up to yours, searching, as if he couldn’t quite believe it.

his fingers twitched against yours before he lifted his free hand to cup your cheek, his touch hesitant, almost reverent. “are you sure?”

your chest ached at the quiet vulnerability in his voice.

instead of answering, you leaned in, closing the space between you.

hamzah sucked in a breath, his body going completely still as your lips brushed against his.

and then—

he melted.

his hand slid into your hair, his other arm wrapping around your waist as he pulled you closer, as if trying to make up for all the times he had pushed you away. the kiss was slow, lingering, filled with unspoken apologies and promises.

when you finally pulled away, your foreheads rested against each other, your breaths mingling in the cold air.

hamzah let out a soft, almost disbelieving laugh. “i really don’t deserve you.”

you smiled, brushing your fingers against his cheek. “probably not.”

he huffed, but the corner of his lips twitched up, and for the first time in a long time, it felt like maybe—just maybe—this could be something real. something worth fighting for.

tags ⋮ @tearsinmylatinaeyes345 @lil-elliesgf @lydiasfalling @f1wh0recom @cheesecakeluver

[burgerrat]

Harley Sawyer x Reader

NOTE: reader is gender-neutral. Scenarios are often sporiadic.

( Because there's little to none and it upsets me greatly how out of character people write him as or label him as yandere, in the few writings there are about him. So I'm going to try my hardest to keep him strictly canon. )

Pre-Experiment 1354.

At first he might come across as grouchy, irritable even.

Then, there is interest. Genuine interest. He wants to study you, see what makes you tick.

Realistically, Harley seems to be quite literally incapable of caring about anyone that isn't himself in a normal way most would expect. His form of feeling 'love', in his mind, is really just a sugarcoated form of saying "I need you alive, you are useful and resourceful to keep."

He does not feel love in the traditional way, that doesn't mean he doesn't care for you. He just does not feel.

His way of showing love is through acts of service, verbal affirmations and gift-giving. He keeps a list of what you like, your interests, and important dates.

Complimenting him or any sort of praise instantly sends dopamine in his brain. Inflating his ego. Automatically in his best mood.

And boy is he smug. He doesn't even attempt to hide it.

He'll keep a facade, perhaps not even tell you about the kind of 'workplace' he's part of at Playtime Co., he needs you to trust him, and you can trust him! He needs you.

Although he uses emotional manipulation, it is not done with malicious intent. He seeks to build a meaningful relation with this person that he wants by his side.

You can sometimes tell he's very... robotic with his behaviour, his gentle voice can only make his charm go so far.

But god does he try, he doesn't even get mad and threaten you for forgetting to take out the sweet pickles in his sandwich! Instead politely reminding you that he dislikes them😁

His perception of having a partner is a very alien concept to him. It feels like focusing on his work for another Bigger Bodies Iniciative experiment, there's that same passion behind to get to know you. He carefully constructs a face to seem normal for you, and studies your behaviour in the back of his mind. Observes you, takes note of what you tell him, etc.

He acts like he's studying a future guinea pig for Playtime Co., honestly. Yet the thought of using you never even crossed his mind.

Physical contact is another thing that feels alien to him, you can feel him stiffen when you hug him, he remains frozen for a few seconds before reciprocating. You can get a small glimpse of his almost-robotic attempt to recreate genuine human emotion. He'd start sputtering incoherently when you'd suddenly give him a peck on the lips.

"No, don't worry, you don't need to ask for my consent, I allow it, you and only you are allowed. I was simply unprepared."

You of course get concerned everytime he freezes or doesn't respond right away, thinking you've crossed boundaries since he noticeably grows tense. But he's always reassured you that he does not mind, he merely gets surprised.

The one time you've managed to aggravate him is by being so insistent on making sure he was consenting because of his initial reactions. He wouldn't audibly admit "Yes I like you holding my hand, hugging me, kissing me." But he WILL angrily tell you something along the lines of "I do cherish your displays of affection. Believe me, you will know if something upsets me."

It's a half-joke half-genuine warning. He's aware of his inability to get along with most people because of his anger.

With you... he's making an attempt to be less volatile. Even at work his shift in behaviour is noticeable when he thinks of you.

He genuinely struggles to grasp the concept of why he'd allow himself to have a loved one at all, having internal fights with himself about the 'pointlessness' of it, realizing the hypocricy of it given his disgust at others for feeling sympathy for his experiments.

He eventually comes to terms that he is allowed to have a loved one because he deserves to be appreciated for his work and how hard it is to share his workspace with people who are objectively inferior and incompetent.

He makes sure to keep this relationship secretive as humanly possible. The last thing he needs is for Leith or anyone at Playtime Co. to discover he has a weakness. He has a loved one too.

Although he doesn't show it, and you need constant reminders from him, that he does enjoy physical contact, he's just kind of like a ragdoll. He allows it but doesn't often reciprocate, and when he tries to- it's often awkward and very automatic like he's trying to copy what you're doing, he prefers to recieve contact rather than giving it. Again, it's another thing that fuels his ego.

He doesn't understand you fully, your compassion, your display of emotion, your sympathy.

And it's what draws him further in, mixed with disgust at how 'lovable' you are. It makes him question himself (not in a moral/self-reflection way, oh no no no, more of a 'why do I like this? This is counterproductive for my work. But I like it.' way) and it makes him question human nature, what it is that draws us to seek closure in such a way towards one another.

He might get vocal about that. And you're going to end up getting a semi-pessimistic philosophy lesson, all because you wanted to cuddle.

Post-Experiment 1354.

Remember his ragdoll-non reciprocative behaviour when you'd initiate physical contact? Suddenly he regrets not having indulged you more often, or asked for more.

Probably laughs at himself over the irony of how he didn't value simple things he had daily access to, and now that has been taken away, and he resents that.

Should you be able to find him in this state, in however way you managed to dig so deep into the foundation to find him, and should you be able to still see him with the same eyes you did before even in the state he's in, discovering what he'd done. Well, you'll make his (metaphorical) jaw drop.

After the shock, there is an uncharacteristic fear. Because of the Prototype, it must know you are here just as well as he does, but it does not know your connection to him, and he must keep it that way.

You refuse to go? He'll go on a long-winded monologue about himself (of course), how stupid one must be to refuse to run away from danger, proudly boasts about his work, it's purpose, long story-short: he fully tears off the mask. Because what he wants is to get you out. He doesn't want you to leave him, but you are useless to him if you are dead.

You want to stay? Even after all of this? With the state that he's in? Being only a brain, lungs and liver inside Vital System Center machines?

He laughs. Starts genuinely pondering your sanity, and survival instincts.

As you approach the large machinery containing his mind, visible through the glass, his laughs grow silent. Waiting.

"Do you think yourself a hero? Coming to rescue the beast?" He'd condescendingly ask you to break the silence, dead-serious and mildly irritated that you'd be that stupid to risk your own survival for him.

"I don't. You deserved it."

Silence. Then, laughter booming through the lab.

"My, my! And here I thought you were always such an understanding golden heart. What happened to the old Y/N?"

You two argue. He's very mad at you for being so stubborn on staying with him even though now you know in full detail of just how evil he is. As if your relationship with him can ever go back to normal like before.

You are within his grasp, in his lab, deep down an abandoned toy factory. He could turn you into his next, newest experiment, he could feed you to Yarnaby, he could dissect you and keep you alive just like himself.

Yet he doesn't.

Something in his evil, metaphorical heart stirs.

You, the only person that he could tolerate. Could get along with. That he felt... something for. Something worth keeping.

"I've missed you."

Make no mistake, he says that with absolute seething spite. He hates the sentence he just uttered from the speakers.

But alas, it is a bitter truth.

Silence

...

He can't feel per-say your arms wrap awkwardly around the giant machinery containing his mind, but he sees it through his cameras, ever so-intently observing you; he heard it, as your clothes' fabric brushed and pressed against the metal.

Another incredulous laughter rasped from the speakers.

Though he can't feel it, it... warms him, in a way, that you still somehow find it possible to 'love', to care.

"I wonder... perhaps, somewhere deep down, we share a kinship of depravity? Or maybe you're just blindly loyal as my dear Yarnaby?" He'd playfully mock.

One thing is for certain though: you intrigue him. He doesn't understand you, your affections towards him, and it makes him want to keep studying you.

His mechanical vessels are a bit trickier to 'cuddle' with, if at all. You're welcome to try, Harley won't stop you, just be careful not to open a wound that'll require stitches.

He does appreciate the effort. And this time, unlike when he was human, he initiates contact first.

His hand reaches for yours, guides you to touch his screen. Although he can't feel it, he tries recreating the sensation in his mind.

You hear him sigh often when he feels content. And/or hum.

He might grumble incoherently in the typical old man fashion and try to pick at you in his typical, eloquent way of speaking, if you try to point out his hypocrisy towards his carelessness for others having loved ones.

[abyssal-ilk]

considering vivienne, dorian, and solas' dynamic in a pro-templar inquisition with an inquisitor who is extremely anti-mage is fascinating to me. especially since dorian is the only one of the three who has the option to leave– solas must remain to regain his orb and vivienne cannot risk losing any more political/social standing than she already has for her own safety and the safety of the remaining loyalist mages. solas is invaluable with his knowledge on the fade and otherwise makes himself small and unnoticeable, but vivienne doesn't have the ability to do that– and more than that, she has built herself up her entire life to do the exact OPPOSITE of that.

it's a very interesting mix of solas keeping to the sidelines to hopefully avoid conflict until he can get what he needs to further his own goals, dorian's refusal to back down in the face of anyone and his pride potentially putting him at risk to the point of being removed from the inquisition altogether, and vivienne needing to remain in the good graces of the inquisitor while simultaneously using her skills in negotiation and manipulation to keep the inquisitor from turning their templars onto the few mages who remain. spinning them in my brain

[havenshereagain]

Jaytim with Jason pulling a Westley is up!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/65137420

Ao3 Summary: The Batfam decides to watch The Princess Bride. This leads Tim to a revelation.

[the-and-sign-anon]

Road Trip

Word Count: 558

BSD Masterlist

“If you need to stretch your legs, do it now. I’m not pulling over in an hour because you realized you needed it.”

You slipped out of the car and gave a dramatic stretch, bending down to your toes before reaching up to the sky. Chuuya was leaning against the car in the most casual clothing you’d ever seen him wear in public. His red orange hair was swept back in a loose, horribly messy braid you’d agreed to do for him before leaving your shared penthouse. He usually kept his hair managed by his ever-present hat, but opted to leave it behind along with his mafia business for the weekend.

Chuuya, as proud as he was of the work he did, needed a break. So he went looking for some options and found a little getaway a few hours outside the city. You were ecstatic to go, having been in desperate need of a break from your own busy job. You packed up a medium sized bag for each of you with your coziest clothes, downloaded some movies for the evenings, and set off together. 

“I can take the next shift driving if you grab us drinks inside.”

Your partner gave a nod and stuffed his hands in his pockets as he headed towards the door. A part of you wished he could be like this all the time. His eyes were bright, not because of a fight but because he was with you on the open road. He wore dark gray jeans, a cream colored v-neck, and an oversized jacket you stole from him more often than not. 

While Chuuya was inside, you folded up the blanket you’d been curled up in to fight off the morning chill and tossed it into the backseat. You shifted the passenger seat forward a bit, then moved the driver’s seat back a few inches to accommodate your height difference. One of the reasons Chuuya loved you was the fact that you’d never once teased him for his height, simply integrating it into your daily routine as needed. 

By the time he returned, Chuuya found you behind the wheel queueing up your favorite songs to play through the speakers. He handed you a can of your favorite drink and settled his own in the cup holder, then buckled his seatbelt and closed his eyes. 

“You missed it. There was a guy in there talking on his phone at full volume, clearly trying to convince his kid to put their mom back on the phone. I think he was this close to snapping.” Chuuya held up his thumb and pointer finger nearly pressed together. “By the time I walked out the door, he’d squeezed his bag of chips so hard it burst and scattered all over the floor.”

You chuckled softly, mostly out of sympathy. That couldn’t possibly have been an entertaining conversation for the poor guy having it. 

“Alright, are we ready to get back on the road?”

“Ready if you are, sweetheart.”

You pressed play on your phone and backed out of your parking space. As the lyrics began to flow, you hit the highway and smiled with the sun shining behind you and Yokohama a mere whisper at your back. Nothing would ruin your next three days; not as long as you had anything to say about it.

[st4rry4543]

Silly Lil yarnadough au

Basically, in this au, the doctor finds out about what's been happening with yarnaby and doey, and Yk, since he doesn't want anybody to be happy, he kills yarnaby. Btw in this au yarnaby joined the safe haven crew about 1-2 years before we (the player)arrived .The only problem is that yarnaby still feels some connection with his "Master."

If you have any suggestions or ideas for this au, let me know. :D

[shadelorde]

I feel like this should probably be considered.

(this being like. the actual writer of Ashes of the Academy.) Absolutely you can criticize Bryke and their handling of Azula's arc in ATLA all you want, but the parasocial "the writers have it out for us specifically" is a little bit over the top.

While I still understand the frustration with Azula's (lack of) arc and handling, I think that acting like everything is shade thrown against us and harassing the writer over something like this is not fair. The ATLA fandom has really been treating the writers (especially the smaller ones, because they are more reachable than Bryke) like shit lately, and it sounds kind of similar to the author of Penquan Island getting harassed because she didn't center Korrasami. I think it is important to consider the perspective of the different characters the writer is, well, writing, and stop acting like that makes someone irredeemable.

[ask-kissymissy]

*look at her* "oh god...kissy what happened?! are you ok!? YOUR ARM IS GONE!"

[soulrox]

DPxDC # -19 Worldbuilding

This is a cumulation of a few prior post ideas and new ones altogether. I'm truly building how Amity Park could be affected by ghosts.

Lady Amy is the city spirit of Amity Park. She had started to come into being during the witch-hunting era of Amity. But until the portal was opened she was an invisible observer of her citizens, unable to truly interact. Lady Amy quickly gained more presence thanks to the constant supply of clean concentrated Ecto coming from the portal.

Daniel Fenton a child who lived and died, but still lives, a half-life, is the one she cares for the most. A child so young is heavily burdened thanks to his own parents' actions/inactions. She helps Danny by making sure his parents and the G.I.W. are unable to hit him. Nudges the shots just slightly so they miss. Helps guide him to safe areas away from people when he's overwhelmed. Danny would be the first person she would speak to.

Years down the line after the G.I.W. has been taken down, Lady Amy really comes out to play. (Good fention parent reaction? or run outta town?) The citizens of Amity Park have learned the truth about ghosts and the Infinity Realms thanks to Danny being crowned king. Lady Amy would tailor her city to suit the needs of her liminal citizens. Ghosts from the Realms would be welcome to live in Amity Park as long as they followed the rules.

The coliseum (#14) is the best enrichment for her citizens. They truly love being able to let loose and fight each other. The ghosts from the Realms also love being able to fight. Several ghosts would jump at the chance to teach others how to fight, shoot, and defend themselves. Pandora would teach a class once in a while.

Animal races would also occur in the Coliseum. Otherworld animals that are the earth's equivalent of horses.

All the schools in Amity would have way more classes thanks to the Ghosts. There would definitely be thousands of teachers in the Realms and giving them the option to teach again to those who would actually like to learn, would be so exciting. Different cultures, races, species, languages and they wouldn't all be even from Earth. (#18) The Infinity Realms are infinite after all. People of Amity would have such a diverse amount of knowledge.

The skateparks would include low-gravity sections to better help people practice new tricks without worry.

The library would be overhauled thanks to Ghost Writer. There would also be added events and programs curated by ghosts. Little old ladies from all walks of life living or not creating knitting groups or otherworld equivalents.

The hospital is taken over by Frostbite and those from the Far Frozen. Only the best practices and medical procedures occur. Getting hurt is harder for liminals but the coliseum gives them the most patients. Veterinarian clients are also overhauled by ghosts.

Lady Amy would create huge treehouses spanning several trees. Making its own little city in the trees. Undergrowth when he took over for a bit had the unintentional side effect of having several citizens connect to the green. And being liminal they would connect really well with the green. They would love the treehouse-style living.

Different sections of the city are dedicated to other styles of living. Like the treehouse area, there are Kryptonian-style buildings, Martian-like areas, a huge lake, and many others. The lake houses many aquatic living and non-living species that would have their own underwater village. The schools would host field trips to each area to show in person the different types of architecture and cultures.

The cuisine available would triple. Lady Amy would do her best to grow all the needed fruits and vegetables for the otherworld cuisine. If she is unable to acquire the seeds herself she would ask Danny. Danny would travel to the other planets (yay space travel) or time travel to obtain it. Animals would also be obtained and looked after by the correct ghosts corresponding to that species of animal. Living people would be taught to care for the otherworld animals too. Lunchlady would be so excited to learn about other healthy foods.

The local channels would host a variety of shows. Ghosts reenact their lives, plays from other worlds, and songs from around the universe. Documentaries on anything and everything. True crime shows that even reveal who the killer is because the victim told them. A talk show that always has a new ghost guest. Skulker would have his own hunting show. Ember hosts MTV-style shows. Youngblood has a dedicated kids' show. A talk show dedicated to past heroes.

The radio would be filled with other world music. Jamming out to a song in an alien language while driving to work. (Find a job out of Amity Park, listening to alien music, coworkers what language is that? Martian.)(Mambo Number 5 in an alien language)

The technology would be literally out of this world. Technus would be in his own personal heaven. (Visiting another city - Holding the latest phone from Wayne Tech, this is ancient) Tucker and Techus would create a dedicated Amity Park internet. Podcasts, videos, and video games made by ghosts. Zone (Twitter) where people share whatever.

While the city is supposed to be XXXX big according to surveys it is of course way bigger when you are in the city limits. The city while not meaning to is slightly disconnected from the rest of the world. They are self-sustaining thanks to the hard work of Lady Amy.

To people of a certain level of Ecto-contamination or Ecto-touched, they feel a pull to somewhere. It's subconscious to them but the pull feels like home, a warm hug, a mug of hot cocoa, unconditional love. The ones who go to explore the pull would be flabbergasted at this city, they've never heard of, but it is the home to seemingly everyone and everything. Superman and Martian Manhunter would lose their minds at all the ghosts of Kryptonians and Martians just chilling.

When the citizens travel, outsiders' perspectives of them would be insane. Amity Parkers would be branded as cryptids.

[havens-iphone]

── how mornings began ꫂৎ ; barista!megumi x reader

wc ⋮ 658

authors note ⋮ short lil story as an apology for going missing.. been lacking motivation💔💔✌️ BUT im back!! lmk if u catch my little how i met ur mother reference (im rewatching it for the 50th time heh) ANYEAYYY enjoy thehehehahah

you've just moved into a new town—stacks of unpacked boxes, mismatched set of utensils, and a quiet apartment that still smells like someone else. everything feels unfamiliar and quiet. a little too quiet for your liking.

you decide to take a walk, trying to get use to the new surroundings and environment. moving to a big city like new york was.. difficult to say the least. you were states apart from your family and knew absolutely nobody. lost in your own thoughts, your eyes drift across the street to a random coffee shop. you smile as you cross the street, hoping to meet new people in the shop.

you step inside, the air smells crisp and cinnamon-y. behind the counter is a guy with messy hair and a grin as if he already knows you.

you approach the counter, eyes browsing the menu. "first time here? he asks, not even waiting for you to speak.

you nod.

"then youre legally required to try the chocolate croissant. its in the town charter." he teased.

you laugh, maybe harder than you should, and order a chocolate croissant and a pumpkin spice latte. "i do love pastries. it better be legendary." he writes your name on the cup in careful block letters dotted with a smiley face at the end.

your eyes wander towards his name tag, megumi.

you thank him as you walk off, unable to wipe the stupid smile off of your face.

you start going there everyday—at first for the lattes, then for the way megumi teases and flirts with you. he remembers your name, the way you like your latte with oat milk, he remembers your love for pastries. he even starts recommending you pastries you never even knew you would enjoy.

it becomes routine. something your morning didnt feel right without.

then one rainy tuesday, he hands you your usual order. you peek at the neat writing on the cup. no smiley face just your name and beneath it, a text that reads,

"i cant stop thinking about you."

you pause, cup in hand, heart beating faster than ever. its subtle, sweet, undeniably him. by the time you look up, hes already taking the next order, pretending nothing happened.

you dont know what you'll say tomorrow, but you know you think about him just as often.

you spend the rest of your day thinking about that cup.

you tell yourself not to over analyze it, maybe he meant it in a friendly way—but you read the words again, carefully peeling the label off and sticking it on the cover of your notebook. just in case. just so you wont forget how it made you feel.

the next morning, you show up earlier than usual. the shop is quieter, just the low hum of indie music and the hiss of the espresso machine. megumi glances up, surprised—but only for a second.

he smiles like hes been expecting you anyway.

"youre early," he smiles warmly, already reaching for a cup.

"couldnt sleep," you reply. you dont need to tell him why.

he slides your drink towards you, same as always. no writing this time. just his hand lingering a second too long on your cup.

"about yesterday.." you begin, voice soft.

his smile falters—not in a bad way, more like hes bracing for something. you meet his eyes and suddenly youre not nervous anymore.

"i liked it," you say.

"the note."

a pause. the milk steamer hisses behind you like its holding its breath.

"yeah?" he says, and now hes not smiling. hes just watching you. really watching.

you nod. "i think about you too. probably more than i should."

that gets him. a quiet laugh, almost shy. his fingers drum the counter once.

“you could let me think about you properly,” he says.

“let me take you out?”

you smile as you bite your lip.

“tomorrow,” you say.

“and dont write it on a cup this time.”

[burgerrat]

"No one gets me like you do."

Harley Sawyer x Reader

NOTE: gender-neutral reader, mentions of gore, threats of violence & light angst.

(I'm gonna be honest the positive feedback with my headcanons made me wanna make s'more Harley stuff. Praying that I kept his personality as close to I think he'd act canonically. Ough

My main inspiration behind this was dovewingkinnie's art piece mixed with that scene in Sonic 2 where Dr. Robotnik's grabbing Agent Stone's face

Aaaaandddd the prompt that makes the title comes from melamemea's prompt list here!

Hope you enjoy!)

It felt like you had been watching the procedure for years, when only 30 minutes had passed by as the Doctor poked and prodded at some unfortunate, sedated Smiling Critter's insides.

Sprawled on an operating table as a robotic, three-fingered limb attached to the ceiling of the room, worked away with a scalpel; a mechanic vessel bent over the operating table, a singular, wide eye displayed on it's screen as it observed the process, also lending its pair of hands, when they were of need. 

He was gruesome in his work, yet his hand was gentle in the most skilled of ways, in however form it came.

A professional in his field, until the very end.

"Do I really have to sit through this?" You huffed, resting your head in your palm.

You were spooned into another of Harley's vessels, sitting cross legged as the metal giant behind you remained still, like a protective shell.

"Squeamish, are we?" The Doctor casually asked, not bothering to actually acknowledge you with one of his physical forms.

"No! I just- ugh, how do you sit through this without falling asleep? It's not like taking a walk around inside here will be the death of me."

Soon as you responded, the scrap robot behind you hummed to life, the operation before your eyes coming to a pause quickly, and now... the screen of the vessel behind you turned on, displaying that oh so familiar eye.

"Your blathering is distracting enough." The Doctor hissed, his anger thinly boiling over.

"I might as well put you on that table instead. Perhaps you'll find my work more 'interesting' once it's skin-deep?" He chuckled.

This was Dr. Sawyer's attempt at humor, only his sadistic side could see the amusement about his threats.

But you knew better, you knew he bluffed each time, because he'd never acted upon it. Not when he was furious, not when you were asleep and vulnerable.

You glared at the vessel behind you, as if to say:

'do it, I dare you.'

The eye on the screen squinted, a quiet confrontation.

Then, dropping all hints of sadism, his voice returned, gentle and monotone.

"I cannot, and will not allow you out of my sight. Set one foot outside of my laboratories, and you'll be just another lamb to the slaughter, I can guarantee the probabilities." 

He'd told you this a million times before, each time more frustrated than the last that he had to deal with such a thick headed person.

His apathetic logic brought him once more to question why, why he kept you. Why did this type of recognition mean so much to him, when it came not only unprofessionally, but brought him objectively nothing?

"I know, I know, Harl. Look, I'm sorry-"

Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts. His eye, once zoned out, focusing back on you.

Harl.

He liked the ring of that.

Only you bothered to give him nicknames like that.

He liked whatever this was that he was feeling, it... helped him relax.

"I just can't do it like you do- the patience. And at least you're doing something. Maybe I can be your assistan-?"

"Absolutely not." He interrupted before you had even completed your question.

"It's my work and my work alone. You may take notes if you wish, but I will not allow any interference. Especially from an unqualified hand." He sternly said.

You sighed in defeat, you knew how much his work meant to him, you happily engaged- but watching it actually happen? Much less intriguing (or violent, really) than you'd imagined at first.

"However..."

His sing-songy tone as he continued caught your attention. His metallic hands gently took hold of yours briefly, before they snaked up to cup your face, the vessel's head lowering slightly so his eye could analyze your expression. Your entire face, really.

You could feel your cheeks heating up slightly against the cold touch of the machine's fingers as they smushed your face gingerly, his fingers slowly moving in small, smooth circles.

"Mmm, yes... I think we can build a little enrichment area for this little mouse."

He purred, his eye squinting playfully.

He knew what he was doing.

For a moment, a brief moment, he indulged exactly what you wished for: more of his attention, his touch. His hands did not come off of your face at any point, one moved to knead your head as the other continued to study your physiognomy, observing your behaviour, taking mental notes.

But all good things must come to an end, regrettably. And, much as he cherished you, his work was more important, you (or anything else) weren’t above it.

"I do wish to study your reactions upon being presented with certain... situations." The Doctor trailed off as he readjusted his position around you, his consciousness switching back to the other vessel and the robotic arm hovering over the operating table, casually going back to digging his scalpel around the Smiling Critter’s guts mixed with stuffing. His tone became fully professional, as if he were discussing business with you.

"E-excuse me??" You babbled out, face still red from his probing.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves. I won't place you in any hostile environment. Since my surgeries are so boring to you, I might just have to leave you with some homework to do instead, mm?"

Once his response was met with silence, he continued.

"I'll just place a few seeds around a labyrinth for you to find and collect, and see how well your cognitive abilities are. After that? Who knows! I might reward you with some cheese." He mocked.

You raised an eyebrow, unamused.

"Fine. So long as I'm doing something." You huffed, earning a contented chuckle for a response from the Doctor as he worked.

You were tempted to ask him to elaborate instead of speaking about his metaphorical 'lab mouse', to satisfy your curiosity, but you didn't want him to think you doubted your safety around him... he'd kept you alive this far, was ever-so vigilant to make sure you were well and alive.

You trust him.

You care.

~

"Most would come to think I'd be laying some sort of trap. The logical outcome." Harley observed once he concluded his procedure on the Critter, the robotic arm once more going still, the vessel remaining active and now... focusing on you.

"Oh, to be so blissfully void of paranoia."

"Yes." You agreed, then shaking your head, "but I know you, Harley. You word it like we're strangers." You added. "I should be able to trust you."

Silence.

"Do you know why?" The Doctor vaguely asked, his monotone voice sounded like he was miles away, yet he was so close to you. The automaton had begun approaching, the one behind you had turned on again. Yet he seemed... disconnected.

Not in the technological sense of his vessels.

"Why won't you lay a trap for me...?" You tried to clarify, "or why I should be able to trust..?"

"Neither." He scoffed.

"Why it is human nature to seek pointless connections, such as this. Nothing of value is extracted, there are no means to an end. What's the value of a life, when it can mean so much more? When it can be so much more?"

You tilted your head slightly, raising to your feet.

"Why does it have to mean anything?" Your answer was another question.

"It has to mean something to me." He barked.

That hurt a little. No… maybe not his intention, but your expression changed, and it didn't go unnoticed by him.

"Don't I?" Your voice softened.

He made a noise, like he was about to respond, yet held himself back the moment the words were going to leave his speakers. The main vessel he was using to express himself retracted a little.

You'd caught him off guard enough to remain speechless.

Because you were right.

You meant something to him.

You, who interacted with him even when you had no need for him, unlike the company who'd betrayed him twice.

You, who listened, who liked him even through his irritable, sadistic nature.

You, the one person that came back to find him, even if there wasn't much left.

And it wasn't because of his research.

You came back, for him.

"Harl...?" Your voice quivered a little, concerned with what his reply would be. Now, you were starting to doubt your safety through the hurt.

"You do." 

His response came out quick but monotone, void of emotion.

He wasn't sure what to make of himself. He hated it when others displayed sympathy towards his experiments, but he was telling the truth: you meant something to him, and, much as he hated to come to terms with it, it wasn't for his research.

You sighed in relief, your expression softening as you looked to the ground.

"I apologize, I was merely... pondering." His tone now took on its usual, eloquent speech. Or at least he tried to keep it that way, like how he'd word a presentation.

"Wondering why humans need to seek... connections... what drives this.. urge. This feeling." He rasped that last bit with spite. He couldn't understand himself, this counterproductive hypocrisy, and oh how he hated it.

This was his indirect attempt of saying 'I'm sorry that I hurt you', having taken notice that his selfishness had actually caused damage to the one person who gave a damn to even look for him. It wasn't good by any stretch, but it was an attempt to mend things up with clarifications. 

"I don't think... you need to know specifically the why of it...we're social creatures, it's, uhm.. normal, to want connections.." you tried to explain, approaching the automaton, reaching to hold his hand.

Were he in his human body, he would've noticeably tensed at the contact.

"Why still bother, when you have been betrayed over, and over again? And the funniest part: there is no prize for it. It has no meaning." He spat, once again void of emotion. He was subtly venting at this point, really, not even trying to hide that he was talking about himself.

In this moment, his complete detachment from humanity matched with his current body.

"Must have some meaning, if our relationship is an indicator of it." You played with his hand, intertwining your fingers.

Even when he had little regard for how you felt, you gave him compassion. You cherish him.

"I don't understand what drives you to it. What compels me." The Doctor's grip tightened around your hand for a moment, frustrated.

Then, he relaxed, his other hand tenderly taking hold of yours. Even though he was machine, it was his gentle handling that reminded one that he was still a man, despite the sharp metal.

"But.. one thing I do know, is that no one gets me... like you do. There is something there... and I intend to study it, why you, and nobody else."

Part of you knew that you both knew what it was.

Perhaps he was in denial of it, or maybe this was another indirect attempt of his, to say 'I love you' in his own way.