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jasntodds · 2 days

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Petrichor [20]

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Powered!Reader (little bit of fwb)

Words: 10,185

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, angst, some fluff, mentions of death, blood, canon violence, mention of drug addiction

Summary: ❝Pylades: I’ll take care of you. Orestes: It’s rotten work. Pylades: Not to me. Not if it’s you.❞

Gotham is home, not just for Jason but for you, too. And now that you’re both finally back home, together, you’re ready to see where this next chapter brings the two of you. He’s your best friend and you’re his. And you both might want a little something more with being back home, the place you both feel most comfortable. Surely, nothing could possibly go wrong now.

A/N: Can you guys believe book 2 is finally done?? We're finally done with season 3!! lol Book 3 will be the last book and I will have some stuff posted for that soon!! I have a few chapters done already lol There's a longer author's note at the end!! You can add yourself to the tag list below, ask me to be tagged, or you can follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary and turn on notifications if you prefer that!! I love feedback, I swear it keeps me posting on a weekly basis 😭

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Jason’s hands are on your cheeks with his lips pressed to yours. Your hands are gripping the ends of his jacket hoodie with all your might, tugging him as close to you as you possibly can as if the very force of your grip will keep him here forever. The teeth of the zippers dig into the palms of your hands and you can't offer a single thought as your mouth moves with Jason's and everything starts to turn sloppy and desperate.

Jason backs you up to the wall where he pins you against it. Teeth smack and clank as you both grip each other wherever your hands lead you as if everything in this moment will fix all of your broken pieces and tainted dreams. You give each other everything, every breath and movement and every piece of yourselves to each other. Jason cuts himself open and gives you everything in him, every part of him even the bad parts just makes you feel whole. He bleeds him dry without ever second guessing it just for you, just to make sure you are happy. And you pull the air out of your lungs and offer it to him in silver jars just to watch him smile. You give him the very oxygen you breathe as if it’ll save him from himself. You offer him the air you breathe in order to see him smile and know he is enough. You give each other everything you can as if this will be the last time you have this moment.

Jason wants to believe this is not the last time but he has never gotten to be so lucky. Not in this life or the previous one. His own certainty is that he will love you in every life after. You have ruined him for anyone who ever even dared to show up later because he is stained by you and he would never have it any other way. But, there is that piece of him that thinks this is it. This is all there will ever be. Something will happen and this will be it so he gives you his all as his mouth moves with yours and his right hand grips your hip hard enough to leave bruises.

Time happens. You know time doesn’t stop anyway. Days go by and then weeks, then months, and then years. Something always comes up and it’ll always be a tomorrow problem and then another tomorrow and another until the tomorrows are neverending. This might be it because you both have a habit of getting lost in time and there is never enough of it. Time will go by and maybe this will be it for you. So, you give him every part of you as you tug the hair at the nape of his neck.

Jason pulls away just enough to kiss your cheek and tenderly makes his way down your neck only to be met with the sturdy armor of your suit. Jason huffs against what skin is exposed before he moves back to your cheek, only for you to laugh softly.

“Safety first.” You mutter through breathy words.

Jason snorts as his head feels fuzzy. "Fuck off." He mutters right as both of his hands squeeze your hips as if they're the only thing keeping him planted on the planet.

Jason slides a hand to your back, trailing over the zipper, ready to tug it down just as your phone starts ringing. The two of you pull away, breaking for some air that isn't tangled between the two of you only to let out groans.

"Cockblock." Jason states as you tug your phone from your suit.

You let out a chortle, not looking up at Jason as your cheeks start to burn. "Who says you were getting that lucky?"

Jason narrows his eyes at you before he raises his brows. "Hey, a guy can hope." Jason states with sarcasm as you look up at him with softness clouding your eyes.

"Fucking cockblock." You roll your eyes earning a laugh from Jason. "Least that was fun." You nod your head as your smile turns into something sad and soft.

You answer the phone before Jason can respond. Dick mostly just explains the sort of plan they have for the moment. They aren't sure what they're going to do about the people in the streets but if Jason and Dick and Donna can be brought back, he wants to find a way to bring all of them back, too. But for now, Dick explains he's going to send you and Jason into the manor together to start taking out of the cops working with Crane in order to give Gar access to the alarm system. Once it's disabled, they'll take back the manor and take down Crane. You and Jason both think it sounds easy enough but sounding easy lately, doesn't mean it will be. But, you both have faith in it. It'll be the closest you've come to taking down Crane anyway. So, you set up a time and end the call.

After the call, you and Jason stand facing each other as you both continue to catch your breath. With the call, the weight and gravity of the situation fall back onto your shoulders. Avoiding it isn't going to make the weight any better. You both need to learn how to remove the bricks one by one. The adrenaline starts to dissipate between you as you smile softly at him and Jason's cheeks turn a pretty shade of pink. Maybe that feels a little unfinished but...maybe that gives you both the opportunity to come back even if it's just one last time for old-time's sake and for now, you're okay with that.

"Well," Jason sucks in a breath finally pulling his hands away from her hips. "Wanna try and get some sleep for a few hours?" Jason offers.

"Yeah, I'm fucking exhausted. I, uh, I don't remember the last time I really...slept, actually." You let out a sheepish laugh.

"Come on." Jason jerks his head towards the bed on the opposite side of the room. "I'll set an alarm." Jason smiles softly at you.

The two of you get into the bed just as you always have. You still say you'll never make him sleep on the floor and it's not like this is something new, even as friends. It doesn't matter. And Jason is happy with this. He's hoping maybe he'll actually get some much-needed sleep anyway. You always made him feel a little more at ease anyway. So, you lay down, your head on his chest and you try to get some sleep before you need to be at the manor.

By the time the next morning rolls around, you and Jason have gotten some sleep. It wasn't good sleep or very much. Some of it was just being a little worried for what today would bring and if Crane planned on setting off another bomb to kill more people. Some of it was worry for the other Titans. And then some of it was just stress. But, you both did get some sleep and Jason's alarm woke up you with a jolt.

A heaviness fills the air between you, knowing this will be it. This is your shot to take out Crane. This is your shot to take back the city. If this plan doesn't work, Crane will expect everyone always and you'll lose. You can't afford to lose today. But, this is what being a vigilante is about. It's risking everything for the greater good. So, the two of you get ready and head outside to Jason's bike.

Jason hands you the extra helmet before he mounts himself on the bike. You're chewing the inside of your cheek, your grip tight on the helmet. Jason can feel it, too. He doesn't want you anywhere near Crane. He could have killed you the last time you were face-to-face. He tried to kill you and that alone nearly sends Jason into a rage. Jason wouldn't put it past Crane to try again or try to get Jason to do it or make Jason watch. You can't die. He doesn't want you to get hurt at all, you've been hurt enough by Crane. It's not up to Jason though. This will never be up to him.

"You sure about this?" Jason asks you, mostly just checking in.

You nod your head softly. "Uh, yeah. Just..." You suck in a breath. "Fucking Crane, ya know?" You shake your head, looking to the ground as you lick your lips. "Ready for this shit to be over." You scoff as you loos back to him.

"You gonna kill him?" Jason asks.

"Did you want to?" You ask right back.

"He almost killed you so..." Jason tilts his head to the side, his voice almost telling you you should have known the answer.

"Dick's never gonna let us." You laugh softly before you pop the helmet on your head.

"He's not gonna stay in Gotham forever." Jason quips as he puts the Red Hood helmet on, making you laugh.

"Yeah, that's true." You take your seat right behind Jason. "Guess we'll just wait until the Titans leave then." You say sarcastically as you wrap your arms around his waist.

"Let's get this going then." Jason says before he revs the bike.

The drive to the manor is quiet, a lot quieter than any ride with you and Jason ever is. On most days, you’re talking through your comms, usually making some sort of inside joke and making some sarcastic jab at each other but today is not that. This is the first time you’re back in the manor together since Jason died. It will not feel normal. It will not feel safe and it won’t be safe. Crane and all of his men are there and this is not how it should be. This is not how you ever imagined it to be.

He was alive and you thought it would be warm and a relief to have him back home. Back at the manor. But, instead, it just feels like dread that’s consuming you because he didn't come with you. He isn't coming home with you. You're only going home together to beat Crane and that stings more than you'll ever tell him. But you have to do this. There is no choice. You are out of options when it comes to Crane. The National Guard has been sent in and Gotham City is under lockdown. Crane wants to take out every person in the city. If you don’t do it now, there may not be a Gotham tomorrow. It’s for the better of the city.

There is also the thought that this is the end between you. You’ll take out Crane today and then…that’ll be it. You’ll go your separate ways for a little bit because that’s what's for the best for both of you. But that doesn’t make the pill any easier to swallow.

As for Jason, he’s focused on the mission at hand. He wants to get in and get the hell out. That’s all this is. For the better of the city. But, he’s also trapped in his own head because he did trust Crane so there is some distant part of him that feels bad about it. It’s the right thing to do and he knows Crane doesn’t deserve sympathy for everything he’s done but something about it feels hard and Jason hates that feeling.

And he’s worried about what will happen when Bruce comes back. Eventually, Bruce will know Jason is alive. Once he finds out, he’ll know about Red Hood. Before, that was fine. It was spite. A fuck you to Bruce and the Bat and everything he stood for. But, Bruce killed the Joker for him. Bruce threw away all of his morals for him. That changes things. Jason is firm in his beliefs and what he wants to do after all of this. Nothing is going to change his mind but there is a part of him that is tired of letting everyone around him down. Bruce is the closest thing to family he’s had since his mom died. He never wants someone else to end up like him, go through the hell he’s been through, but he doesn’t want to give up on this either. Not if Bruce really did that. For him.

Then, there’s that thought of being alone. It’s for the best. It’s for the best for him and you. But, he remembers what it was like returning to Gotham without you while you were a Titan. How it felt like the longest month of his life and you weren’t even together yet. But, you were different people then. You aren’t the same stupid kids who were so infatuated with each other, you could hardly breathe. You are more calloused and damaged and bruised and broken. It’s for the best as you learn to live with your new scars. As you come into yourselves as individual people. It’s going to be hard but it’s for the best. Jason swears it’s for the best and the lump in his throat starts to close off his throat.

“How we doing this, Jay?” You ask once you dismount the bike on the outskirts of the property.

Jason takes off his own helmet. “We’re not going to get in with you just walking with me.” Jason starts, gesturing for you to give him your helmet. “Pretend to hold you prisoner, a peace offering to the psycho.” Jason puts both helmets on the handles, trying his best to be casual about it.

Jason knows that’s a big ask given your history. But, he’s not going to tie you up for real and he’s not going to let anyone else do it. You'll never even see Crane until everyone else gets into the Manor. He knows it's not something you'll take lightly. He just doesn't know any other way. It's not like he can sneak you in, that's why Gar needs to enter as a bat in the first place. Turning you into Crane gets you both in but if you aren't comfortable, Jason knows you'll have to figure something else out. This is just the best, easiest, and quickest way.

You nod your head once. “Right, yeah, okay.” You pull in a weary breath.

The idea of even pretending to be restrained makes you want to peel your skin off your bones. You swore never again. You would die trying to get out of it ever happened because it simply can't. If you get restrained again, what happens if you never get to be free? What if something worse happens? It's why you don't like to use your powers. But, this is Jason and even after everything, you have enough trust in him to know he's going to make sure you can free yourself. It makes you nervous and it scares the hell out of you but you also know there isn't another way. You put your trust in him.

“Is that alright?” Jason asks, seeing the hesitance in your face.

You nod quickly. “Yeah, yeah, of course. It’s our way in.”

Jason nods, his eyes darting over you quickly. "Let's get going then." Jason jerks his head in the direction of the manor.

"Think they'll really buy that?" You question as the two of you start your walk to the manor.

"Guess you'll have to channel your inner thespian." Jason offers you a cheeky grin, trying desperately to ease some of your anxiety.

"That's your job, theater boy." You roll your eyes as you laugh softly.

"Oh, well, we know I've got that covered." Jason chuckles, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "You always said I was fucking dramatic." Jason lets out a light-hearted scoff, looking over to you.

"You are." You let out a laugh. "Most dramatic person I ever met." You scrunch your nose as you look back him.

"Yeah, right." Jason scoffs but the smile beams back at you.

The two of you keep up a steady walking pace through the grounds of the manor. Crane doesn't seem to have anyone watching this far out. Chaos is ensuing in the city which means Crane's eyes are probably there and not on the cameras for the grounds. So, your walk is overall pretty peaceful given your circumstances, something the both of you are thankful for.

Once the two of you start to get closer to the front of the manor, you stop behind a few of the trees to scope out the front. There are two guards standing right out front, fully armed and in riot gear. They don't seem to be paying too much attention but the front of the manor is open so you'll be seen immediately. That's the plan anyway, get in without any disturbance and take them all out at once just to get inside. If you make a scene out here, Crane could lockdown the manor before you ever get a chance inside.

"Okay, I'll just hold your hands behind your back. You act like you want to kill me and we're golden." Jason offers you a cocky smirk.

You nod your head with the roll of your eyes. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know the drill, thanks." You laugh softly but there's something off about it.

The lack of quip and how the laugh sounds hollow. The smile falls almost immediately as you look at his hands. You bite it back and clear your throat, standing in front of Jason with your hands behind your back. Jason's gloved hands hold your wrists soft enough you could barely move and slip right from his grip. He's mindful, keeping his grip above where the scars hit even though they're covered by your suit.

You can feel his grip still and it's like you're being suffocated. The scars on your wrists start to burn, resembling the burn of you tugging and pulling on the cuffs, desperate to get out. You can feel the skin cracking out in a burn and then a deep welt before it's covered in blood. It burns and it aches and it stings. Your stomach twists and turns with nausea. It's the right thing to do because it'll get you in there. You can help and not being able to do this makes you feel weak and useless. But, it's as if you're frozen in place.

"Are you sure?" Jason asks quietly from behind you. "We can try to just tell them I convinced you to switch with Nightwing being dead."

You look over your shoulder, meeting the concerned look written across Jason's features. They'd never believe Jason could get you to switch sides. It would out you and Jason immediately and the whole thing would go to shit. It's for the greater good of Gotham and you trust him.

"Yeah," You nod your head. "Just hope it works." You pull in a breath as you turn back around.

"If not," Jason pauses for just a second. "We'll go down swinging anyway." He says it casually and you can't tell if it's supposed to be reassuring, a joke, or an acceptance of your possible fate.

"Always thought that'd be our way out." You let out a scoff that's ended with a half laugh. "Let's just go before we're late."

The two of you come out from the trees and start your walk towards the driveway. It only takes a few seconds for you to be spotted. The guards point the gun directly at you and it burns Jason's bloodstream knowing they're mostly pointed at you. If one of them even slips or gets a little too trigger-happy, Jason will lose his entire mind. He doesn't exactly trust them. But, he bites it down because if he starts worrying and getting annoyed, you will do the same.

"Found her snooping around the trees." Jason states once the two of you get closer to the front steps, one of the cops meeting you on the driveway.

"Get fucked." You scoff.

"And you're turning her in?" The guard questions, not buying it.

"Told Crane, I'm all in for his plan. Just here to prove it." Jason says casually, hiding every piece of annoyance and anger he has towards this whole thing.

"And you let him capture you?" The guard narrows his eyes at you.

"Fuck you you fucking piece of shit." You bark back. "No, I didn't let him that would be fucking stupid."

"Where are your friends?" He questions.

Your annoyance is not fake. You hate this guy already and the questioning is ridiculous. Why would you tell him anything and why would Jason tell him if he switched sides?

"I'm not a fucking rat unlike Red Hood here." You narrow your eyes back at him. "They're gonna stop him though." You threaten. "The Titans will win."

The cop gives you a sinister laugh, a way to tell you the Titans don't stand a chance. You swear arrogance has only ever worked on Jason. Arrogance on everyone else seems to make them stupid you think.

"Come on." The cop scoffs, leading the two of you through the front door as the other cop joins you.

Jason's grip is loose against your wrists as the cop walks you inside. The cop trails behind you, keeping the gun on Jason, clearly not trusting him. Jason gets the idea Crane knows he's done. That's fine, really. You're inside and with every step, Jason is thinking of a way out of this if it goes south. He should be able to hear the movement of the gun being held tighter before a trigger is pulled. The fabric of his jacket will move and he can shoot first. Your clairvoyance should go off and you'll have a knife out in the same breath. If this guy takes it into his own hands, it'll get messy quick but you'll have a way out. Jason focuses on a backup plan as you're nudged into the kitchen.

"You're not gonna believe who we caught outside trying to get in." The cop states as he leads you into the kitchen where three other cops in riot gear are gathered.

"What in the actual fuck are you trying to pull here?" One of them asks, his eyes directly on Jason. "Crane is done with you."

"I saw what he did downtown. Let's just say I'd rather be in here when the next bomb goes off." Jason states. "Found her when I showed up and thought I'd show my loyalty to Crane by bringing her in."

"What the fuck makes you think he'll take you back?" The guard asks. "Even with her."

"Pretty sure he's getting tired of dealing with the second string." Jason scoffs.

"Dr. Crane?" The guard states after touching his own comm device in his ear. "Red Hood is here." He says after a few seconds. "And he brought Bluejay, says he captured her for you." He pauses for a few seconds. "Thank you, Doctor." He touches his earpiece again before turning to the guy behind him. "Take them down. I'm gonna go outside and see if we have any other visitors here." The cop says before he rams his shoulder into yours to walk past you and Jason, making Jason's grip tighten on your wrists as an instinct.

One of the cops walks behind the two of you and shoves Jason and in turn, shoves you, too. The two of you nearly trip over each other as you move closer to the middle of the kitchen, standing between the islands while the four cops surround you. There's a feeling creeping into the back of your head, spreading through to the front. It's not quite throbbing like it usually does but there's a subtle alarm going off. It feels more like just a gut feeling something isn't right in this kitchen and based on the second squeeze you get from Jason on your wrist, he knows it, too. All you have to do is wait for Gar to trigger the manor's alarm system.

Just then, as if it be on cue, the alarm starts blaring from above you. Everyone looks up and that's the cue for Jason and you to get this thing going. Jason drops your hands and in an instant, Jason takes his elbow, ramming into the face of the cop behind him while you spin around, throwing a kick at the one behind you.

The cop Jason is fighting immediately starts firing while Jason grabs his arms, spinning him around so the gunfire stays away from you. He yanks the gun away as he tosses the cop over the counter all while you fight the first cop, elbowing him unconscious before throwing a knife at the one about to shoot you. Jason keeps his gun aimed at the last man before hitting him with the butt of the gun, knocking him unconscious.

Jason and you exchange a look with heavy breaths once they're all either down or dead. There's a glint of a smile coming over Jason's face as he shrugs.

"Don't gloat." You state, Jason seeing the smile come to your eyes.

"I wasn't saying shit." Jason defends but there's almost a laugh that leaves his lips.

"Mhm, something about how you trained me well or something." Your eyes narrow but there's something soft over your expression.

"I did." Jason holds his head with pride before he lets out a breath. He misses patrolling with you, fighting side by side. He thinks he'll always miss it. "Come on. We gotta get to Gar before they find him."

The two of you quickly make your way through the kitchen and to the main staircase, leading to bedrooms. You follow behind Jason with two knives in hand, keeping an eye over your shoulders while Jason watches around the corners you reach. As you round another corner and keep up your steady pace, Gar pops out from the corner from the hall that continues to your bedrooms. Gar immediately takes a step back, fear falling over his face.

"Hey, Dick sent us, okay? I'm on your side." Jason rushes quickly.

"I told you, he's with us." You urge not liking the fear over his face or the way his arm is almost in position to fight.

You don't blame him and neither does Jason. He just got Dick killed the other night. This is an entirely fair reaction for him to have regardless on if Jason was trying to help or not. And then Gar's eyes widen just as the back of your head starts throbbing.

Jason and you turn at the same time, Jason firing two shots while you throw a knife. Both of you hit the one cop, sending him to the ground instantly. You and Jason look right at each other and just nod before you turn back to Gar.

"See?" Jason questions.

Gar isn't sure just how relieved he is but he is thankful. "Thanks." Gar nods, his voice still a little unsure.

"Set up the router." Jason states.

"We'll watch the hall." You finish as the two of you stand on either side of the hall, opposite each behind two of the large pillars.

Gar ducks behind the corner and starts communicating with Dick about Jason and you being there before he starts working. But, it's only a few seconds before two of the cops show up, jogging through the hall but they're met by Jason and you as you duck from behind your pillars. Jason takes one while you take the other, the two of you using your fists and elbows for nonlethal force, successfully knocking out the cops before you go back to your spots. Jason flashes you a smirk while you roll your eyes.

The two of you wait as Gar takes down the system while Dick is on his way inside. You look over to Jason, his back pressed against the pillar with his gun that he stole from one of the cops downstairs held against his chest. You think about how you're going to miss this part of it. Dick said you work well together, it's why he wanted you to team up for this. Part of it. And you do. You never have to speak to know exactly what the other one is going to do. You think that probably isn't too common and you're going to miss it. You'll miss him, even if it's only a week you don't talk.

It's only a few minutes before Gar finishes up and meets you and Jason in the hall. He looks more relieved now as the three of you stand in the hall and it almost feels like it once did.

"So, you're really with us?" Gar asks.

Jason nods. "Yeah, I'm done with this shit." Jason lets out an easy scoff. "Sorry for everything, man."

"It's okay. You were drugged and manipulated." Gar offers his understanding. "Thanks for the help." Gar nods before he looks to you. "Thank you."

"Yeah, don't mention it." You smile under your mask as you scrunch your nose until you hear fighting and gunfire from downstairs.

The three of you exchange panicked looks before you run down the hall and towards the staircase. You and Jason take one way while Gar takes the other so you have both entrances covered to the main living room, hearing that's where the gunfire is coming from. The three of you reach your entrances just in time to see Dick throw one of his weapons, hitting the barrel of the gun pointed at him which makes it backfire, killing the cop holding it. You, Jason, and Gar enter fully into the room, slightly concerned by the whole interaction and the amount of bodies littered over the floor but not even willing to question it. It was Dick's life or that cop's and he wasn't going to let Dick walk out of here alive.

Dick walks up to the camera and grins wickedly before he salutes it. Bringing Crane down is definitely bringing Dick a lot of joy. It's bringing a lot of the Titans a lot of joy to bring him down.

Dick starts a quick pace to the entrance to the Batcave. "Let's go." He says, looking towards Jason and you.

"No." Jason says quickly, making Gar and Dick stop their walk to the entrance while you look to Jason with confusion. Dick nods his head at Gar for him to keep going before he closes some of the distance between him and Jason. "Look, this is a Titan's job. He knows I turned on him and that's enough for me. You guys finish it."

Something about the way he says it, as a form of acceptance warms your heart. Jason Todd doesn't hold very many grudges. He is not a mean person and he is not a monster. He should walk into that Batcave and rip Crane's head right off of his shoulders for everything he's done but he doesn't. Jason recognizes he was part of this problem. Drug or not, it does not matter. This was his doing and the Titans deserve the right to take him down. Crane knowing Jason turned on him and Jason being allowed to help the Titans, that's enough revenge for him now. He knows you'll give him hell anyway, it's your hell to bring him if you want it that bad.

"You sure?" Dick asks, somewhere between surprised and understanding.

"And tell the others I'm sorry." Jason shakes his head. "For everything." His voice is soft and honest.

"Thank you, Jason." Dick states with a nod of his head.

Dick Grayson can hold a grudge. Sometimes, he can be bitter and angry, understandably so. He can hold a grudge and maybe he should sometimes. But, Dick Grayson is not a mean person. He is not unreasonable. He is understanding and he cares about the people he loves and protects. It was his job to protect Jason at some point and he failed. Maybe some of this is on him and he died. That was a missing piece he really needed to understand how they even got here. He can hold a grudge but one against Jason is not one he's willing to have. He is thankful and hopes once this is over, they can both move on from whatever bitter rivalry boiled between them.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Jason starts as he starts to move away from Dick and towards the exit. "I was never here." He finishes before he leaves the room, you looking back at him before looking to Dick.

"Go." Dick states. "Something tells me you'll find Crane your own way, anyway." Dick doesn't sound pleased but he almost, just almost, looks content.

You nod softly. "Tell him I'm coming for him." You state the smile reaching your eyes just as you hear rapid footsteps coming into the room. Your mouth falls open from behind your mask as your eyes widen and turn watery. "Tim!?"

"Hey!" Tim chimes with excitement.

"I thought you were dead!" You rush over to him and pull him into a hug.

"Oh, yeah, I kind of died." Tim answers. "I don't know. It was weird, Donna was there." Tim's voice is filled with excitement at the mention of Donna, something most people would probably find off-putting. But, not you, that's just Tim.

You pull away, looking between Tim and Dick before you just roll your eyes. "I...okay." You shake your head, deciding to ask more questions later. "I'm gonna go. Fill me in later though, very happy you're alive." You smile before you turn on your feet.

"I knew you were Bluejay." Tim chuckles with confidence.

You turn around and deadpan but Tim holds his confident smile. "Shut up." You let out an exasperated sigh before you turn around and follow where Jason left.

Jason has done everything he can do. Crane might have caused him pain but at the end of the day, it was Jason's trust in him that allowed Crane to cause everyone else so much pain and agony around him. Crane got control of the city because Jason trusted him. Bringing down Crane, that was never supposed to be Jason's job. That should be on the Titans, Jason knows he's just lucky to be walking away from it not only alive, but free.

He walks out of the manor and for the first time, he feels free. He is not obligated to come back. He's not obligated to offer anyone anything anymore. There is no obligation to be a hero or a villain. There is no obligation to be back by a certain time or an obligation to put food on a table. He is no longer obligated to take care of anyone or look out for anyone but himself. For the first time, Jason Todd is free to be whoever the fuck he wants to be without anyone else's opinion or input. That part is a bit terrifying but there is something cathartic about it as the cold Gotham air hits his cheeks. There is guilt and remorse and a heaviness he doesn't know if he'll ever be able to shake. There's the haunting ache in his bones but...he is free to live how he wants for the first time and that, is cathartic.

"Jay!" You call after him, stepping out of the manor.

Jason turns around, brows pulled together. "What're you doing? Thought you'd be in there with them to take down Crane."

"Dick's not gonna let me kill him." You let out a chortle. "And...Tim showed up anyway. It is Crane's fault he died." You nod.

"He died?" Jason questions loudly, his eyes shooting open.

He knew it was bad that night but he didn't realize Tim had died either. He was kind of with you, hoping he lived. It was easier to just hope it would work out. But of course, Crane just had to take out someone innocent. Jason hopes Tim is in the Batcave right now giving Crane absolute hell.

"Yeah," You say quietly. "Um, he seemed okay for the few seconds I saw him. Seemed happy to be here." You laugh softly, looking to your feet before looking back to Jason. "I, um," Your brows pull together as you suck in a breath. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Yeah, yeah, all good." Jason nods his head, earning an eyebrow raise from you. You could always see through him like he were cellophane. "I'm not Robin anymore." Jason confesses, looking around the manor before his eyes come back to you.

"You're not." You nod your head, almost dreading where this is going.

He never needed Robin. He could be just as great as Red Hood or as someone else or just Jason Todd. You aren't sure that's where this is going but you do know what Robin meant to him. You can only hope he will see his worth one day and he'll be able to move on from it with fondness.

"Bruce isn't here." Jason lets out a sigh.

"Nope." You shake your head once, now wondering where Jason could be going with this.

"I can be...whoever I want." Jason swallows thickly before looking to the ground.

You pull your mask off, closing some of the distance between you as a tender smile comes over your lips. "You deserve it, Jay."

Jason could always be whoever he wanted but he always felt like he needed permission. People always expected him to be something specific. If he didn't meet what they wanted, he thought they'd leave. Maybe if he could be what they expected, he wouldn't be too much or too little. He could be just enough and there would be no transaction in being loved. But, it never did work out that way. It led him here.

He isn't sure he deserves to be who he wants but he does want to try. He wants to try and be whoever he can be. Maybe that's worse but at least he'll be him. He will no longer be a torn painting of something everything thought he was. He will no longer put on a facade to be enough. That's easier said than done but he thinks maybe, just maybe, he can do it in time. He'll destroy every part of himself that has been damaged by broken expectations and be the person he actually wants to be. There will be a home for all of his pieces one day.

"Thanks." Jason nods his head. "So do you, ya know."

"Yeah," You scoff softly.

You aren't so sure you do after everything that's happened. On the one hand, you remained on Jason's side but...you did betray him in a way you aren't so sure you can forgive. On the other hand, you owed some more loyalty to the Titans than you did give them. A part of you thought you would turn on them if it came to it and that is not the person you want to be. But, you aren't sure you're deserving of better anymore. It's a lot to be forgiven for and a lot to forgive yourself for. And you just look at Jason who looks like he might have a little more hope left somewhere in his cracked ribs so maybe you can spare some, too.

"Where ya gonna go then?" You ask with a tender voice, as if stalling so you don't have to say goodbye.

"Safehouse." Jason answers. "One I've been staying at." He explains further. "You?"

"Probably call Molly, she'll be pissed." You laugh softly. "I, uh, I've avoided her, ya know? Just to keep her at a distance after Tim, ya know? But, she'll probably let stay."

Jason's relieved you'll have a place to stay. The whole space thing is the point, but if it came to it, he'd never let you live on the streets again. He has more than one statehouse. Molly would never tell you no though. And he hopes you will be a little more careful living with Molly. You wouldn't want to put Molly in danger and have Molly constantly see you with some sort of injury.

"What's next then?" Jason asks as he takes a single step forward, knowing you can only stall for so long.

"Keep this up, I guess." You laugh softly. "I don't know. Come up with a plan. You?"

"Yeah." Jason chuckles softly. "Think I'm gonna keep doing this, work from the top and try to control it. Don't know how much Bruce is gonna like it." A devilish grin puls at Jason's lips.

"He'll probably just be happy to have you alive." You answer honestly.

"Yeah..." Jason's voice goes quiet, not convinced. "You should, uh, you should go back in there though." Jason swallows a lump forming in his throat.

The air feels heavy and thick, stale and bitter. It's like it doesn't want to flow into your lungs with the request. Stalling is just making it harder, you can see it in the way his eyes reflect and the very hint of the tip of his nose turning red. It's not from the cold.

"This is really it, huh?" Your voice quivers with the question.

Jason nods sadly. "Yeah..." His voice is quiet and filled with guilt. Jason almost backtracks but that's not the right thing to do. So, instead, he stays honest. "Gonna miss you."

"Gonna miss you, too." You say quietly. "Just, uh, we'll be in the same city so we just...meet again later." You nod softly, almost trying to convince yourself more than Jason.

Jason nods back quickly. "Yeah, exactly. And we have Molly anyway, she'll never keep us apart." Jason laughs softly.

"You're right." You laugh back. "Be careful, Jay." You close more of the distance between you, offering your hand to him.

It is bitter. It is hard and it is sad. You both might convince yourselves it's for the best but that doesn't make this any less painful. You trust each other more than anyone in the world and you have given each other every piece of yourselves. To see the other one go in another direction feels like you're losing a piece of your own hearts. But this is something you have to do, for yourselves and each other.

"Do you want to leave this on a handshake?" Jason quips back, not wanting to leave this so sad. That was never you anyway.

"No." You laugh as you look down to your open hand before you drop it.

Leaving it on a handshake feels permanent and that is not what either of you want. Maybe time will pass and it'll be hard to come together. But maybe in that time, you'll eventually find yourselves clawing your way back to each other. You both are so positive your hearts will only ever beat for each other as if they are beacons home. You both swear this cannot be the end of you so a handshake won't work.

Jason closes the rest of the distance between you, his hands coming up to your cheeks before his lips press against yours. It's different than it was at the safehouse. It's not heated or desperate. It's not as if you both are chasing something you'll never catch up to. It is tender and soft, deep and passionate. Your hands go to his sides while Jason's thumbs rub over your cheeks. You both take the time to just savor this for all that is worth. It has to be worth something. It just has to.

Jason pulls away first, his forehead coming to yours and he doesn't dare to open his eyes, knowing the second he does, he has to leave. Jason will have to walk away from the one person who showed what unconditional love really is. He'll have to walk away so he savors it for all that he can. You sniffle against him, keeping your eyes closed and Jason knows it's time.

He pulls away just enough, pressing a kiss to your forehead as his hands trail down your neck, to your arms, and then to your hips. Before he can say another word, you pull him for a hug and his arms entirely engulf you. You think you'll never feel this warm again but you hope he'll be happy. You only hope he'll be okay. Jason Todd deserves to be happy no matter what the cost. You press a kiss to his cheek and it's you that pulls away first because you think if Jason does it, he'll always question if it were the right decision. You do it so he doesn't have to.

His eyes are red and watery but there's a firmness, a certainty, over his features. And then he nods.

"I love you." Jason says it first this time and it nearly sends you into a fit of broken sobs.

"I love you, too." You back away from him and think you might get hypothermia in seconds. "See you later, yeah?" You ask.

"'Course, can't get rid of me that easy, babe." Jason tries to lighten it but he's missing the same snark he should have. You offer a soft smile before Jason turns to walk away, only to turn around again. "Keep the necklace, by the way." Jason forces one of his cheeky smirks onto his lips. "Still always come to find you if you need me to." The smirk falls into something sweet and soft.

"You can always come find me." You nod back but this time, you manage a smile. "You and me." You shrug softly.

"You and me." Jason offers you one reassuring nod as his heart feels like it's just fallen out of his ribcage and then he turns around and makes his way down the driveway.

The next two days leave everyone starting to clean up the mess that was left in the wake of Crane's reign of Gotham. The Titans and you have taken over the manor again, getting everything clean and back to how it was before Crane took over. Jason has been at his safehouse, getting everything he needs to make it feel more like a home rather than a rundown and empty building. But after two days, the Titans are ready to leave which leaves Dick to say goodbye to Bruce. That's when Jason walks in, figuring it's his turn to have a conversation with him now that he's finally back.

Jason finds himself going back to his old room while Dick and Bruce finish up their talk. The hubcaps he stole from the Batmobile lay on his old dresser and he finds himself thinking about it. That night. He remembers the day Bruce told him about Robin and offered him the position if he were willing to train for it. It was hard and it sucked but the day Bruce gave him that suit, Jason swore it was the greatest day of his life. He remembers how happy he was as if he had finally found his purpose in this world. Not one single part of him thought he would be here today. He never thought he would have died and betrayed the people he loved. He never thought things would get here with Bruce. It was so happy and fulfilling and now it's...tarnished. Broken and shattered. He wonders what his old self would think of him now.

Bruce walks in a few minutes later, gaining Jason's attention.

"Coming here wasn't my idea." Jason immediately defends himself as he turns around to face Bruce, hoping Bruce believes him.

There's a long pause as Bruce puts his hands in his pockets. "Can you forgive me?" Bruce asks.

It is agonizing with Bruce asking. It's something Jason didn't expect, not from Bruce. A part of him, wants to ask for what? Jason can see some of the wrong Bruce did that did not help him. Some of those things did contribute to him dying and working with Crane. But, the way Jason sees it, Bruce isn't the one who needs forgiving.

Jason leans against the dressing, stuffing his own hands in his pocket before he nods softly. "But you can't forgive me." Jason shakes his head.

Bruce shakes his head back, looking to the ground. "There was a time when that would have been true, Jason, but..." Bruce shakes his head as he pauses before he looks back to Jason. "We've all grown and crossed lines, starting with me."

Bruce crossed the one line he swore he would never cross and Jason crossed it, too. He does not want to lose his son over this whole thing. Bruce knows he has a lot to make up for, thinking maybe he should have listened to what Dick was trying to explain to him since leaving. It has to start somewhere and Bruce is willing to start here. He forgives Jason for everything, no question or doubt in his mind.

"I did things I can't come back from." Jason shakes his head.

Jason knows Bruce's line. Bruce killed the fucking Joker which basically every single person in Gotham agrees was the right decision. Jason did not kill the Joker. It's different. Jason turned on Dick, Bruce's other son. This whole thing is different than what Bruce did. Jason can't erase any of it no matter how badly he wants to. The drug and the killing of his friend, the betrayal and injuries he's caused are things he can't come back from. He did horrible and unforgivable things. He can't go back and change it. He needs to just find a way to live with them now.

"Did you want to come back?" Bruce asks.

Jason looks around his room before pushing off of the dresser. "Here?" He questions as he closes some of the distance between him and Bruce, leaving a few feet between them. "No." Jason's voice is honest and soft. Jason looks to the ground. "That life is over." He says before looking back to Bruce.

Bruce lets out a sigh of understanding. "What life is next?"

"I don't know." Jason answers honestly.

"The fear that you felt, I refused to see it because it's something that you and I share." Bruce explains quietly as he gestures softly between the two of them. "It held its weight over us. But fear is a bad mentor. I wish I had had the strength to help you face yours." Bruce is quiet but honest and this is the deepest conversation they've ever had.

Jason has held resentment for Bruce but...this conversation is changing that, it's just making him feel more guilty over it. Bruce doesn't admit that he's wrong often. Part of that is Bruce is very rarely ever wrong anyway but even then, it's hard for him to admit fault. It means a lot to Jason that Bruce is taking some of the accountability for it even if Jason doesn't blame him. Dick and you were right, Bruce actually does care.

Jason looks to the ground. "When you killed the Joker, did you do that for me?" Jason asks as he looks back to Bruce.

Bruce pauses for a few seconds before he nods his head. "Yes." He answers simply. "I did."

It's all Jason needed to hear. He doesn't know what this means for them but...he'll never be able to express what it means to him for Bruce to have actually done that. For him. Before coming here, he wasn't sure what he wanted from the conversation or what to expect but it wasn't this. It's better. Jason has confirmation that he is important to Bruce, not as Robin but as Jason Todd.

"Thank you." Jason states, his words firm but tender before he walks past Bruce and leaves the room, leaving the manor.

You and the rest of the Titans are at the hangar, waiting for Dick. You might not be going with, but you're here to say goodbye and Tim is here. Tim has since told you about the whole bridge dream thing where he met Donna and Hank. Hank sacrificed himself so him and Donna could come back. It all sounded completely insane but you aren't going to argue with Tim over that. You're just happy to have them both back and alive.

"He said ten o'clock. He did say ten o'clock, right?" Kory asks, pacing near Conner.

"He said ten." Conner confirms, holding the strap of his backpack over his shoulder.

"He'll get here...eventually." Rachel laughs softly. "He always does." Rachel finishes just as they all hear honking and turn to see an RV pulling into the lane.

"Hey, did someone order a bus?" Gar questions.

The bus pulls right open to the opening of the hangar where Dick and Donna are seated in their seats. You stifle a laugh and right about now, you're pretty glad you're not going with them. Sitting in an RV with the Titans for over three days with no way to escape, does not sound fun. Though, you think they'll have a great time.

Donna and Dick get out of the bus, Dick looking very pleased with himself as he faces the rest of the Titans.

"Hey, Dick, uh, what is that?" Rachel questions as her arms are crossed over her chest.

"That's an RV." Dick states, pointing a finger back at the door with genuine happiness in his voice. "I figured it would be way more fun than taking Bruce's jet."

Everyone turns to look at the joy that could have been. You finally break, letting out a quick laugh as you shake your head. You can confirm the jet is way more fun and it's faster. But you aren't going to tell Kory that.

"Why would that be more fun?" Kory asks as if she's going to pass out.

"Roadtrip!" Gar says quickly before he turns to you. "I'm gonna..." Gar points to the RV with a large smile.

"Have fun." You laugh softly before you hug quickly. "Lemme know how Metropolis is! And fill be in on all things Superman, he's actually cool." You beam as Gar laughs and promises to let you know everything before he darts over to the RV and rushes right inside.

"Right because who would want to fly in the batjet?" Rachel quips as she makes her way to the RV.

"Exactly." Dick states, picking up some of the bags to load them up.

You stand back, watching Rachel and Gar go onto the bus. Donna and Tim are saying their goodbyes to Conner just as Blackfire drives up to the hangar, leaving Kory to say her goodbye. Dick starts loading bags into the storage compartments of the RV so you pick up one Gar left behind and bring it over.

"Not mine." You state quickly as Dick takes it from you.

"Are you sure want to stay here? Plenty of room." Dick offers kindly.

You look to the giant RV and then back to Dick. "Yeah...I think all of Gotham can see that." You quip back before letting out a soft laugh. "Yeah, I'm sure." You nod with confidence, sure of your decision. "Thanks, though."

"Jason?" Dick asks, mostly just to check this isn't about him though this time if it were, he'd entirely understand.

You shake your head. "No. We, uh, we are not speaking. We are giving each other space after everything that's happened." You answer simply. "It's home, like I said. And now I have Molly who will not shut up about me needing eyes in the sky like a Ned Leeds or Ganke." You mutter earning a questionable look from Dick. "Spider-Man thing, ask Gar." You laugh. "I have her and uh, yeah. I don't know. I just want to stay here and do my own thing." You shrug as a soft smile tugs at your lips.

"Good." Dick nods with a proud smile. "But if you change your mind or you ever need anything, we're a phone call away." Dick offers you a smile, something you don't know if you'll ever get used to. You're so used to fighting with him.

"Of course." You laugh. "I plan to harass you still." You beam up at him.

"Thanks." Dick deadpans with sarcasm.

"Thanks again though for..." You gesture broadly. "And not killing Jason. Seriously, Dick, I owe you a lot for the last couple of weeks for shit I did and the hell I gave you. So, thank you. I will deny it, but you are very good at this shit. And I'm gonna miss all of you a lot."

"Thank you." Dick says with honesty. "We'll all miss you, too." Dick nods down at her.

It's sad for him to say goodbye but he's very proud. A little worried because it's you but he's proud. Looking back at your first day at the tower to now, he's impressed and happy with how far you've come. It might have gotten messy but you never wavered. Jason died and that was horrible for you and it changed things. Dick saw that same thing in himself when his parents died. Then, you turn around and refuse to compromise your own morals even if that means making things harder on yourself. And you refuse to quit even when maybe you should. He thinks you'll do just fine no matter where you are.

You smile softly before closing the distance between you and hugging Dick softly. Once you let go, you head back over to your place inside the hangar with Tim and Donna. The three of you watch as the Titans pile into the RV, Tim looking defeated and saddened. Tim offers them a sad wave.

"For what it's worth," Donna says softly as she rubs Tim's back. "I think you would have made a pretty decent Robin."

"You would have." You add in, feeling bad for him.

It's as if he's watching all his hopes and dreams about to drive away. But then, Dick looks back at all of you, tossing his backpack onto his back.

"You coming?" Dick asks, his eyes right on Tim.

Tim's eyes nearly shoot out of his head as a smile splits his face. "Are you serious?" Tim asks.

"The question is: are you?" Dick asks back. "I mean you got some nice moves but you're gonna need proper training...if you're up for it."

Tim looks between the three of you with a smile that will likely be plastered across his face for the rest of his life.

"Go." You encourage him. As much as you don't want to see another friend join the whole vigilante thing, it's something Tim really wants and you do think he'll be a great Robin. He deserves the chance and it is a little funny to you that Dick is still plucking people off the street to join the Titans. Like father like son. "I'll look after your parents." You assure him before Tim is quick to skip over to the RV and dart inside before Dick can change his mind.

The three of you watch them finish getting onto the RV and unlike when you left San Francisco, this feels different. It felt...sadder last time like maybe it wasn't time for you to go. It wasn't time for you to leave the new family you had been brought into. You felt hopeful but sad where this time, there is still sadness but it's filled with hope. It is up to you to determine the life you want to live. It's up to you if you want to go back to the Titans and if not, that's okay because they're your family. It's up to you if you want to be Bluejay. You don't have to live with Bruce or Jason. You can just...be you. In Gotham, just as you were before. You'll have her best friend at your side and if you're lucky, maybe one day you'll have Jason, too. But, until then, you just get to exist with hope-filled hands.

prev. chapter

series masterlist | masterlist | tag list

A/n: I can't believe I finally finished book 2!! I was really pushing at the end there lmao I love season 3 but it took so much out of me lol So, thank you to all of you who kept reading and big thank you to anyone who's commented and/or reblogged!! I SWEAR comments have always meant so much to me and make me want to finish lol

So with that said, book 3 will be the last book and I don't think it will be as long as 1 and 2?? But I am really excited for it!! I have a lot planned and season 4 episode 11 is canon so you'll have that to look forward to!! I've got 3 chapters already done. I'll have more info on it later with a posting date!! It won't be long between this chapter and book 3, promise!! Thank you guys so much!! 😭😭😭

Tag List: @fairyofshampoo // @italiana-20 // @jasontoddsmentaldisorders // @purplerose291 // @lovelessamai // @makaelaseresin // @lenidaslenchen // @mayfieldss // @ghostkingblake // @im-done-with-this-im-out // @velvetskies // @lilylovelyxo // @cryinghotmesss // @yesimwriting // @vivian-555 // @stainedstardom // @baebeepeach // @legend-o-zelda // @harleycao // @somehow-lovable-trash // @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx // @deyja-the-duck // @jasontoddslover // @captainmarvels-blog // @totallynotkaibiased // @scarlovesyou // @whydoyoucare866 // @littlemeowmeow1000 // @ginger24880 // @urmomsgayforme5 // @septixtrash // @kplatzman// @killxz // @lovefks // @laurelthesimp // @strawberryforks // @mxtokko // @kolpvii

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#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #red hood x reader #red hood x you #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #titans fanfic #titans fanfiction #dc fanfic #dc fanfiction #petrichor

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osirisiii-bc · 3 days

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Primo Emeritus: Florence.

This is the first of my posts where I locate each Papa in Italian cities based on the occult influences/history of each city. I hope you find it interesting and useful!

Primo Emeritus, The Old One, the embodiment of all that is sacred. A personality like his deserves to be located in an ancient city full of art, poetry, and history, shaped by the esoteric and alchemical obsessions of the Medici family, amidst the enduring shadow of centuries-old Satanic cults.

Let’s see why I have chosen Florence for Primo.

In this chapel of ritual…

From the early 70s to the late 80s, a series of murders occurred in various regions of middle-north Italy, with the most infamous taking place in Tuscany, known as the case of the 'Monster of Florence' (Mostro di Firenze), which resulted in the deaths of 14 people - officially, but it is believed there were way more.

The theory is that these murders were part of a large network of Satanic rituals involving influential figures from Rome, Perugia, and Florence. This network is supposedly still active. The original cult allegedly responsible for initiating these rituals seems to be the 'Rosa rossa' (Red Rose) cult.

A fertile ground for writing Ritual...

2. The creator of Hell.

Florence is the birthplace of Dante Alighieri, the renowned author of the Divine Comedy and the creator of the now canonical structure of Hell.

Primo could have had many more things in common with Dante than we expect: indeed, it is said that Alighieri was part of an esoteric cult named ‘Fedeli d’Amore’ (Loyals to Love), probably affiliated with the Templars. From there, Dante is said to have drawn inspiration for his symbolic and esoteric tales, as well as his passion for numbers.

Keep an eye on Dante, as he will eventually come back in the next chapters.

3. The ghost behind the open window.

It’s not a Ghost story without an actual ghost.

In Piazza Santissima Annunziata, there is a building, Palazzo Grifoni, that holds a mysterious detail: a window that remains open at all times, whether day or night, summer or winter. Legend has it that a woman of the Grifone family bid farewell from that window to her lover, likely Ferdinando I, who departed for war. She waited for him by that same open window throughout her life, but he never returned, dying in battle. When she passed away, the window was finally closed. However, soon after, numerous mysterious events happened in the building, to the point the residents concluded that the building was haunted by the ghost of the woman, and they have kept the window open ever since not to upset her.

But that's not all: the Ferdinando I statue placed in the square, has his face turned to look right to that window… At the very end, he finally came back to her.

4. The Boboli alchemical garden.

Boboli represents a very particular case of an alchemical garden conceived to be ‘accessible’ only to those who have a strong alchemical and esoteric knowledge. It is built as a symbolic route where you can contemplate the principles of magical and alchemical doctrine along the way. You’ll be welcomed by two fountains, placed one on top of the other: the Mose’s (it is an indoor fountain) and the Carciofo’s (artichoke). They are believed to represent the esoteric concept of “as above so below”, but the references to esoteric concepts are present along the whole garden.

Primo would have surely loved this place.

#ghost band #the band ghost #primo emeritus #papa emeritus i #papa primo #italian cities #ghost theories #Ghost band theories

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phantomphangphucker · 1 day

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Phic Phight - I’m Not Above A Love To Cash In

@a-closet-emo @coyotecrackers @DizzlyPuzzled @vigilant-insomniac @Kawaiijohn @fangirlwriting-stories

Danny’s kind of out of touch with humanity, that was kinda the point in the end. He had a job to do, people and ghosts to protect, a dimension to rule, and crazy bigoted ghost hunters to keep in line; potential distractions and collateral weren’t useful for anyone. Though maybe those would have been good for Danny’s well being, not that he cared too much about that.

Danny sighed at the little envelope, how the heck any of them even tracked down where he was living he had no freaking clue. Oh well, it was here now, meaning he couldn’t feign ignorance. The A-listers, or whatever they called themselves these days, had set up a reunion and had invited even him ‘Freaky Fenton’. Course they also managed to get the ghost mailman to deliver one to Phantom as well, which was slightly insane because as far as they knew Phantom had literally never gone to school at all??? Wasn’t it kinda weird to invite someone that not only wasn’t in your grade but wasn’t even in the school, to a high school reunion? Eh whatever, who was he to dictate who they invited, Dash probably demanded it actually. Ugh. So that left him with what to do about it, it would be rude as fuck for either Danny to not show and it would hurt his image in both forms. Jack and Maddie would spin some story about how it was proof that Phantom didn’t care about people, and then would say the same about Danny Fenton except that Fenton had been ‘tainted’ by Phantom.

To say they weren’t getting along these days would be an understatement. It made him very happy he never told them about being Phantom as a teen though. That would have ended with him strapped down on a table, no doubt.

His whole secret identity was the entire problem here really, his forms looked effectively identical meaning the two sides of him never being seen right next to each other was kind of important. Even being in the same room was too big a risk, if someone simply glanced from one to the other it was obvious. In photos he was fine, since ghosts messed up photographs and videos so severely.

Absolutely no one would buy it that neither one of them noticed the similarities. And absolutely no one bought that ‘Phantom stole Fenton’s face’ thing his parents once tried to spin. So Danny trying to play the similarities off wasn’t going to work.

…

Well he could simply do the aggressively opposite thing. Have Fenton and Phantom near each other constantly and clearly aware of the similarities for some reason. Just what kind of reason should he come up with? Claiming twins would get disproven in a heart beat, especially because everyone would wonder why he waited fourteen fucking years to reveal that shit. He… could, maybe, spin some soul mates bullshit. Ghosts were weird and did weird things and worked in weird ways, people would buy them having legit soul mates and being weird as fuck about it.

He should work shop this a little.

Really sell it.

Fuck.

Danny’s totally going to pretend to be his own fucking boyfriend at a random ass reunion that he still doesn’t know how he wound up getting invited to.

…

Oh Ancients Jack and Maddie were going to lose their minds when they heard about this. That’s it. He’s sold. He’s dating himself for a night. Fuck it. They put him through hell, he’s gonna put them through a little hell too.

Now how to explain it… ghost soul mates copy the appearance of their mate? Why though… hmmm… he doesn’t have a good one for that. Maybe… to recognise them while they’re still alive? Technically that could stab him in the ass if Fenton him ever died but well… unless something killed him then he wouldn’t die, semi-immortality was kinda a bitch like that. Old age was gonna bite him in the ass no matter what. And if he did get his sorry ass killed, finally rested in deaths grasp, his appearance would change to his ghost king form fully meaning that his ass actually would be covered by this dumbass excuse. Okay he is mentally swearing way too much and should absolutely go to bed at this point, sleep deprivation was absolutely taking the piss outta him right now.

He’s definitely sticking with this dumb dating himself idea though, it was just too good and too stupid.

Had Danny’s fully rested opinion changed from his sleep deprived one? not a chance. Eleven years ago this would have been utterly impossible to do, but now? he’s got duplication down pat, all his powers he was pretty solid with now. Not having friends gave him a crap ton of free time. Again, positive sides to negative things.

Heck he doesn’t even know what Sam and Tuck- Tucker were up to these days, it’s better left that way too. He’d be too tempted to keep checking up on them if he looked into it, and he gave that up the day he died and decided to keep that to himself no matter what. That no matter what had become losing his friends, his family, his sleep schedule, his unmarred body, his childhood home, his dream job, his grades, everything he used to care about except the stars. The stars he could be closer to than every living being, so he made that enough for him, it had to be.

Because he couldn’t follow his former friends, he couldn’t follow his former parents, he couldn’t follow his sister, he couldn’t follow his former teachers, he couldn’t follow his dreams. He refused to take all of that down with him, because the only one or thing Danny Fenton followed was Danny Phantom, because all Danny Phantom followed was Danny Fenton. Guess ‘dating’ was just taking it to another step, an absurd one but absurd was his half-life already so it was okay.

… Better thing to wonder about was what the heck to wear? He could slap his Phantom self in some of his more humanly normal royal wear but Fenton him? He owned one suit and it was shit. Most of his clothes were shit, he never actually paid for them so most were either destroyed or cheap enough that he didn’t feel too bad about the act of theft. His morals were another thing he gave up following, at least following it to a tee anyways. Eh fuck it, he’ll ‘barrow’ some of ‘Phantom’s’ royal wear. He’s not wasting time, money, or further morals, on trying to get something decent in a human way.

When was this happening again?

…

Tomorrow. Of course. It was fucking tomorrow. Figures that it would take a while to mail shit to a ghost and figures that they’d be lazy about sending ‘freaky Fenton’ an invite. Ugh. Whatever, he doesn’t really have energy to waste on caring or being bothered. Screw them too. He’ll be late purely to repay the audacity. That way he’ll also have to deal with everyone less, all the ‘normal’ people. Which if Tucker or Sam showed would probably be for the best, he doubts they’d approach him but it’d be painful to see them regardless. Not being in school anymore made it easy to fall out of being used to ignoring and avoiding them.

Though to be fair, he’d been out of school longer than everyone else, since he dropped out as soon as he legally could. Turning seventeen had be such a massive turning point for him, he’d been building up to dropping out and the teachers all knew it. None of them expected anything from him, Lancer held out hope longer than most but not even that man could hold out hope for a lost cause for long. Jack and Maddie thought he was joking till the day he actually dropped out though, they kicked him out of course which he expected; he didn’t even bother taking anything since nothing that was still there held any value to him.

Over time they had destroyed, one way or another, every physical thing he did care about. So he stopped bringing new things he would care about, it was a waste and only stood to hurt him in the long run. Them taking apart his telescope he spent years saving for just to make some stupid new invention was the nail in that particular coffin. So he left them everything he’d ever had but some clothes, that were barely wearable but he couldn’t exactly walk around naked. He’d been tempted to purely to make a point that everything in that house was worthless to him, them included, even if that used to be a lie.

Now he had some decent stuff, his mattress had a bed frame with stars scratched into the wood. That was something. Yeah…

…Yeah

He does have some food in the fridge right? Shit he should totally raid the free food at the reunion thing, the local town hero needed it more than they all did really. He’s seriously hoping that they have those yummy cheese tart things, those were delicious.

Fenton stretches out, eyeing his Phantom duplicate, it was so much harder to make a human duplicate than a ghost one so the choice of which one to make ‘real’ was fairly obvious. Snickering as Phantom chucks some clothes right at Fenton’s face, this kind of crap always amused him, being a goofy jerk to himself by himself. Fenton shaking his head, “dumbass”.

“You know talking to yourself isn’t supposed to be healthy”.

“As if we’re remotely close to healthy anything”.

Either way Fenton pulls the dark green knit tank top on, it looked acceptable over the black poets blouse, and the puffy blouse sleeves worked with the baggy harem pants. The shiny dress shoes stuck out bit so he’s swapping that shit out to soft weathered leather boots. Phantom’s already dressed in something more form fitting, like he always wore in that form, straight cut pants he’s sure are from the early nineteen hundreds and a borderline military tight collared and fully buttoned up jacket. Phantom sticking with the white boots and black gloves, there really wasn’t a reason to change that and he wasn’t a fan of people seeing the scarring on his left hand/arm.

Both of the hims absolutely rock the evil eyeliner though, because of course.

Fenton straightening the random bullet necklace he threw on, “so, ready to go babe”; fuck this was gonna be hilarious.

Phantom finger gunning right back, “tots babe”.

Oh here’s hoping he can hold his laughter and mocking smirks inside his mind. Everyone even in this spooky town could be so dumb though that they might not even notice even if he didn’t manage to keep himselves together. Plus he was ‘the freak’ and ‘crazy’ so he probably would get written off anyways. Fenton gesturing out the door as he opens it and begins to walk out. Phantom chuckling, “naw, I’ll fly us”; and having Fenton pretend to be startled when he gets picked up by his ‘romantic partner’. Man he’s going to make himself laugh at this point.

It doesn’t take long to get to Elmerton, at least the ‘A-listers’ had the sense to not try and hold a reunion inside Amity Park, especially when a lot of the people who were likely invited had made a point to get the hell out of dodge once they could. Amity was kinda a nightmare so Danny couldn’t blame them, even if it felt a little insulting. He thought he was doing a damn good job of keeping everyone safe! Sure there was lots of damages but no one ever got seriously injured. Living in a so called normal town just sounded boring to him these days, what did all those people even do with their time? Sleep? Eat? Did people still go to the movies these days or was that outdated? Whatever. Not his life style not his problem.

Phantom zipping up to open the door, Fenton stuffing his hands in his pockets and following along. Fenton had the loner lazy weirdo image to maintain after all. And there’s Star immediately, honestly he kind of expected either Dash or Paulina or maybe they were just ‘too good’ to greet people at the doors.

Star opens her mouth and nothing comes out, her just staring at the two hims. Yup. She noticed the freakish similarities immediately. She swallows very awkwardly and her smile is pinched, “Phantom! Danny! Glad you could make it!”. That rang about as true as a fucking potato trying to pass as a turtle. What the fuck. Did they just not expect either of hims to show up? Why even invite him then!

Phantom tilting his head, “well I was invited, someone went through a kinda weird amount of effort to do that”. Fenton scoffing, “and I can absolutely just leave if I’m not actually welcome, don’t know why y’all went to the effort to track me down if you didn’t want me here though”.

She waves them both off, “no no no! You’re both fine!”, and fiddled with all the little name plates, “it’s…”, side-eyeing Phantom’s glowing self, “just been a while since I’ve been around a ghost and wearing a bullet to see a bunch of people you haven’t seen in over a decade seems a little concerning”.

Fenton blinks, is she trying to say it came off as a threat? “If I was going to threaten people I’d do it to their face and if I was going to shoot people I’d have walked in with a gun”.

“That’s… not comforting”, she looks Fenton up and down, “you’re not armed right”.

“No!”; oh my zone just how bad was everyone’s opinions of Fenton? Ugh. Phantom gestures at his face, “I’m kinda always armed? I can’t do anything about that”.

She actually chuckles at that, handing them their name plates, “still a joker I see”.

“Death can’t kill these puns”.

Fenton snickering, “hopefully it can still off me though”. Phantom laughing lightly back, “you’re not a walking sentient pun, otherwise I feel very misled”; and makes a point to ruffle Fenton’s hair and have Fenton grin a little fondly at the action.

It was actually kinda nice to feel his hair being ruffled up again though…

Star, finally, gets the vibes he’s putting out. Vibes squared that he’s putting out. Doubly putting out. Her eyes widening, “oh my god are you two dating? Since when and how even!”.

Danny’s a little miffed she didn’t even comment on how similar the two hims look though. Like come on! If this whole thing was pointless he’s going to be annoyed enough to try setting something on fire. Nothing like arson to really scratch that destructive itch.

Fenton quirks an eyebrow, “I mean, yeah?”, sharing a glance with Phantom before looking back to her, “and pretty much ever since I dropped out, folks kicked me to the curb and this idiot showed up”.

“I’m the smart one in this relationship”.

“I don’t know about that, you dipshit”,

“Hey!”.

Oh okay, so that’s why everyone liked calling him insulting names. It was legit hilarious and weirdly satisfying… hopefully he doesn’t come out of tonight with a weird degradation kink, that would be his luck and very concerning. Would confuse a lot of ghosts though.

Star shakes her head with a more genuine grin, “I think I’m glad then, feel free to head on in. There’s food and drinks to the left”. Sweet, free food. “No invisibly stealing most of it, Phantom”. Aw. Damn. He’s still going to just… with more subtlety.

Phantom smirking, “so steal all the food, gotcha”, and winks before they’re fully inside.

It’s loud, not club loud but noisy. A second duplicate absolutely raids the table, just taking only a few things and at random. Not the toasted sandwiches though, ew. Hard pass.

Lily spots them first, nearly running over, he can tell by scent alone that she’s got kids now. Weird. “Holy crap, Danny? Phantom? Did you guys just arrive by chance together or do you- holy what the?”, she stops a bit away from them and tilts her head, “did you two always look this similar?”, and shakes herself off before coming all the way over to the two hims. “So both of you still in Amity I guess? Phantom obviously but you seriously didn’t leave Danny? With how crap your parents were to you?”.

Wow. Way to be gentle about it, damn. Fenton quirks a judgmental eyebrow, “harsh much, but Amity’s big enough that we avoid each other pretty easily. They leave my precious Nasty Burger and coffee shops alone, I stay the hell away from FentonWorks. It works”. Phantom nodding readily, “plus I would be very sad if he went and left”, and makes a point to pout goofily.

Lily hums and nods, “oh yeah I guess since most of us left, you’d miss anymore leaving huh?”.

Dense much. Fucking Zone.

Fenton and Phantom exchanging looks before staring at her. Phantom giving her that smirk that meant he was about to say something stupid, Danny loved making that smirk, “no, I’d miss sucking his face off”.

Lily squawks, scandalised, “you don’t just say stuff like that! And you’re dating!”, tilting her head, “you guys have the same name and could pass as twins, that is so weird”.

“WHAT! Oh mi god!”.

Ah that sounded like Paulina. This ought to be fun.

Paulina almost knocks Lily over and physically flings her arms around Phantom’s neck. Danny can’t resist but have Phantom give Fenton an awkward apologetic look; just to make Lily uncomfortable. That absolutely works and she shuffles on her feet and taps Paulina’s should in an attempt to get her to stop.

“I can’t believe you actually came! Oh this is the best! And you’re still so muscley! And you smell like lime still!”.

He… forgot how creepy she could be, actually. Wow. He’s nipping this in the ass. Fenton putting a hand on his hip, “you done dangling off my ghost, Paulina”; he makes sure that comes off as chastising instead of actually questioning.

Paulina doesn’t get off of Phantom and instead just turns her head to look at Fenton, “and you are? What could you possibly mean by that?”.

Holy shit. By all the Ancients. She doesn’t even recognise Fenton him. What the fuck actually. For someone who was, and clearly still is, so obsessed with a version of him she clearly couldn’t be bothered to remember him. Phantom prying Paulina’s arms off him with an almost baffled raised eyebrow, “Danny Fenton? You know? The kid you guys used to call freaky all the time? My soulmate?”.

“Your what?”. Of course the last bit is the part she really cares about. She stares at Fenton, who glares, her looking back to Phantom, “I refuse to believe that”.

You know what? Fuck it. Time to absolutely horrify everyone and do something arguable really weird. Fenton grabs a fist full of Phantoms hair and kisses him like he fucking means it. Even though all he really means is that he desires to disturb Paulina and see if he can make her throw up on command.

She doesn’t throw up, sadly. She does start waving her hands around and backing away disgustedly though; an almost win. “Oh god ew! I don’t want to see that loser kissing anyone! Especially not Phantom”. Well too bad Paulina, you’re seeing it. Lily is busy clutching her pearls and shuffling away from them like they’re physically toxic to be around; which with him being literally a ghost in one of his forms that was actually an accurate statement.

Fenton does break off the kiss though, “oh so you do remember me?”. She scowls at Fenton him so he has Phantom whole ass bite Fenton’s neck with his fangs like a proper possessive asshole ghost would. Her scowl deepens and he feels very satisfied with himselves.

She backs up a bit, “unfortunately. Now at least. I would have preferred not to have the reminder”, looking to Phantom almost hopefully, “are you sure? Serious?”.

Phantom keeps a hand around Fenton’s waist, “course! It’s pretty obvious he’s supposed to be mine so”. Fenton sticks his tongue out meanly while Phantom shrugs like all of this is a given.

“No it’s really not”.

“Holy shit Phantom!”.

“Wait really!?”.

“Phantom!”.

“Wow you’ve changed! Awesome man!”.

“He came!”.

“I forgot how freaky ghosts looked”.

“HI!”.

Fenton gets pretty much shoved to the side as Phantom gets mobbed. Ahh yeah Danny did not miss all the fangirls and fanboys shit. He really didn’t. That was one thing about being a hero he could seriously do without. It was at the least uncomfortable and at the worst actively dangerous for everyone involved. Fenton huffing and shaking his arms out, going through the motions of running his bite mark and grumbling about people hogging ‘his boyfriend’. Fuck it, Fenton him is hitting up the food table and grabbing both hims a drink. The duplicate can deal with all the damn fans and freak outs.

Phantom chuckles awkwardly when Dash smacks him a few times in the arm, “solid and tough as always I see! Man it still sucks that ghosts couldn’t be on the team!”.

“And I’ll point out that would have still been unfair”; like really, Danny, especially as Phantom, could pick up the entire school building. He could kick a football into the goddamn stratosphere.

Dash smacks him again, “oh who cares”.

“I do? And did?”. Danny liked to pretend he still had good solid morals sometimes.

James starts aggressively shaking Phantom’s hand, “man it’s been too long, wow i thought I’d been misremembering that your skin, or suit I suppose, tingled!”. Phantom only laughing awkwardly in response.

“You still doing the whole super hero thing?”.

“it’s almost weird to see you all grown up?”.

“You know you practically were part of our class!”.

“Could you imagine if he still looked like a kid?”.

“Amity’s ghost issues as bad as ever!”.

“Think I could get a signature for the kids?”.

“The Fenton’s still trying to catch you?”.

Okay this was a bit much, like it always was. Most of Amity didn’t do this crap now, everyone used to him just kinda always being around. Everyone here though? Again most of them left Amity, meaning he was now a novelty to them. Phantom him was at least.

Danny’s putting a stop to this, “Hey spooky butt”, Fenton leans his face and one drink over Phantom’s shoulder in a way that could only be described as shit-eatingly sultry.

“Holy shit Danny!”.

“Looks like someone finally learned how to dress”.

“Why are you getting Phantom a drink?”.

Paulina crosses her arms and huffs, “apparently they’re dating”, waving a hand around dismissively, “soul mates or whatever”.

OoOooIooOoooOoOooh someone’s jealous. Ha! He loves to see it. Suck on that, little miss stalker.

Everyone just kind of goes silent, zone someone actually goes and shuts off the music even. Wow. His both touched and slightly horrified. Phantom takes the drink from Fenton and sips noisily at it while everyone stares; Fenton just smirking his ass off and Danny trying not to have either hims collapse to the floor in laughing fits.

Todd snapping, “what the hell does that mean”, then scowling, “wait, why do I even care?”, and stalks off to aggressively grab a rice crispy square. That starts the shouting though.

“What?!”.

“What does she mean dating!?!”.

“There’s NO WAY THAT’S SERIOUS!”.

“How!”.

“Woah woah woah huh?!?”.

“WHAT!”.

“The hell happened!”.

“How does this even make sense!”.

Paulina looks pleased with herself actually, smirking at Fenton like this somehow proved something? Danny’s completely lost on what she thinks she’s won. Like, Danny’s winning here, mass confusion was practically ninety percent of the goal. He wanted to piss off, freak out, and annoy these people. Most of them had treated him like shit, the others didn’t care, and well, two were… okay but he was best leaving them confused too. At least he doesn’t see either of them yet.

Dash near shrieking, “Fenton!”. Danny’s suddenly distinctly remembering that this guy used to slam him into walls and try to drown him. Fenton ducking down under Phantom's arm to be able to slip under it to move in front of his ghost self, “what do you want, Dash? Feel like revisiting shoving my head in toilets?”. He makes a point to have Phantom watch the interaction like a very obviously protective hawk; protective eyes for Fenton only. He is legit enjoying seeing Fenton him standing up against Dash though, especially since Fenton was taller than Dash now and more bulked up.

Someone fell off with all their working out. Ha! As if that would ever happen with Danny, he’s mere existence was a work out.

Dash glaring up at Fenton, sneering, “Fenton, still being weird I see”.

“Let me guess, I was invited to be the freak show you lot would point at and use as a way to make yourselves feel better about how your own lives turned out? What? Upset that you were right about peeking in Highschool?”.

Dash actually clenches a fist, Danny keeps Fenton glaring straight at his face, and makes Phantom’s eyes glow dangerously in warning. Dash wilts immediately, scoffing, “gotta have a ghost fight your battles for you, Fenton. Whatever”.

Fenton cackles meanly, wandering off to pick up one of the full coolers up over his head with ease and shout, “you wanna go bitch?!? You think I’m hooked up with a combative mother fucker without getting a few hits in myself!”. Yes, fear human him even slightly, please him.

Then Star stomps over, “Danny put that down”, pointing at Dash, “Dash, this isn’t Highschool anymore, grow up”, then looking at Phantom, “please discourage this?”.

Phantom blinks innocently, “why would I? It’s hot when throws shit at people, he threw Johnny’s bike two days ago, ten outta ten”.

That gets him a lot of ‘what’s’ and Paulina recoils, “you, called Fenton hot”.

Phantom shrugging like this is obvious, “well he is”. Note, Danny is fully aware that he is absolutely not hot or conventionally attractive in anyway. He just wants to see her grossed out. The disgusted look is so worth it, worth all this crap.

Kwan shakes his head, but when he smiles at both Danny’s his smile is genuine, “well good for you two then!”. Dash glances away awkwardly, Danny’s guessing those two had a falling out. Figures, Kwan was always a kinda decent dude that was just surrounded by assholes. Kwan coming over and smacking both of the Danny’s shoulders, “how’d this happen though?”.

Multiple people raise their hands, clearly wanting an expilnation for this shit too; zone the music is still off. Danny knows he’s a hot topic, as Phantom at least, but for fucks sake! Phantom and Fenton exchanging glances before Fenton crosses his arms at the group, “after I got the familial boot, this shit ass”, jabbing a thumb back at Phantom. Phantom muttering, “yes insult me harder, daddy”, purely because that was absolutely taking this a step too far. Making Fenton pause and look back at ghost him, “I can’t believe you actually said that”, then turning back to everyone, most of whom look varying degrees of freaked out, “so this shit ass, helped me get back on my feet and not be contentedly homeless and you know, when a hero type starts stealing things for you you start to question that shit. And well, romance bloomed”. There are some ‘aw’s’ and some gags and some eye rolls. Expected, many here had once had crushes on Phantom him and also viewed Fenton him as a loser; most wouldn’t be happy about this pairing not that he cares.

Phantom waving at everyone with a big smile specifically to get their attention, “we’re soul mates!”, humming, “which is a ghost thing so it’s probably really weird to the living”.

Fenton nodding, okay self… selves, time to sell this shit. Fenton pointing at his face then Phantom’s face, “it’s why we look alike”. Phantom nodding immediately, “looking like our loves makes them easier to find”.

Jesse blinks, he was dressed in an actually starched suit, “so ghosts just copy their partners appearance until they find them as ghosts? Until they die? That seems a bit insane and like it would mess with your sense of self”.

Paulina stares at the ground, “so I’ve been crushing on a Fenton look-alike, ew”. Oh Danny hadn’t even thought of that reaction! Ha! Suffer for his amusement. This was a great plan.

Fenton smirks to himself, “yup. Too bad you missed out on the real thing huh?”. She scowls deeply at him and stalks off, apparently done with his bullshit; the quick glance she gives Phantom is a little odd but maybe this will finally kill her odd obsession with half of him.

Phantom hums, shaking his head in that way that makes his hair flop around detached from gravity, “oh I can look how I’m supposed to look fully if I want to”, leaning over and pinching Fenton’s cheek, “looking like this silly little human, in general body shape, is just more tolerable around all you humans”; then running the same hand through his hair, changing it to white flames as he does so. Danny lets the fire hair ‘hang out’ on and around Phantom’s head for a bit before settling back to his standard hair.

Dash grumbling, “I’d rather look like some beast than a loser. Fire hair is cool anyways”.

Brittney sticking up a finger, “but with this, then wouldn’t you have known since you first met? When you first showed up in Amity? So why didn’t you date back in Highschool?”.

Phantom quirks an eyebrow at her like the answers obvious, because frankly it is, “He’s alive? I wasn’t about to mess his life up, then suddenly he wasn’t in school or at his home. He was alone with no real human responsibilities so I decided why not? And I could hardly do nothing when my mate could use some help”. Dating any ghost, especially himself, would have gone horrifically bad while he was still living with Maddie and Jack. The amount those two would have tried to use him and this fabricated soul mate bond thing would have been absolutely insane and very very painful eventually. Even if he had dated a blob ghost that would have ended in the ghostly ultimate destruction. Even now dating a ghost came with far too much risk to them, dating himself he could get away with since he was a very powerful ghost and also knew exactly what he was getting himself into more or less. Besides, if dating himself is what gets his ass finally truly hurt by those two he will laugh.

Star grins at the ghost, “that is very adorable”, then looking at the mass of people, “okay that’s enough mobbing them, this is to mingle with everyone not just ogle Phantom”. Oh hey, look at the old queen bee lackey being the voice of reason now, talk about moving up in the world.

A couple people grumble but things do go back to somewhat normal, the music comes back on too. Nice. Star nodding curtly to herself, then to Fenton, “now I didn’t ask this earlier but are the Fenton’s going to show up? They weren’t invited but they were never big on following rules”.

Both Danny’s chuckle at that, Fenton shaking his head, “so long as no one tells them a ghost’s here, then no”.

“Glad to hear it, now I’m going back to greet people, I imagine there will be a couple more late arrivals”. Fenton smirks meanly at that while Phantom tries to look slightly apologetic, ultimately Danny didn’t really care and they should be glad he bothered showing up to an event full of people that either ignored his existence or treated him like shit except when he was saving their hides or floating around as Phantom.

Phantom finally gets to sip his, unfortunately ectoplasm free, drink and take some food from Fenton. Danny’s tempted to have Fenton fucking hand feed Phantom just to mess with people. The tarts are sadly really bland, is this what ‘normal’ grown ups liked to eat? Hard pass. But people’s tastes seriously get this boring? How sad and a bit pathetic. Live a little! Enjoy some flavour!

Kwan elbowing Phantom, “so the ghost problem still going strong”, laughing almost awkwardly, “I haven’t exactly been keeping up, the tech industry is a hard core one!”.

Ah so he worked in tech now? He’d expected English, a teacher maybe, he seemed to like poetry if Danny’s remembering right? Phantom chuckles, “of course! I doubt that’ll ever change. Serious damage doesn’t happen too much now though, since I’m pretty solid on what kind of damage is serious damage in the living world now”. Fenton nodding, “and I get the fun of patching his dumbass up when he lets himself get hit for a pun”.

“As if you don’t do the same”.

Fenton snorts, making a point to seem amused by Phantom’s antics. Phantom smirking playfully before looking back to Kwan, “besides, no ghost these days would want to actually get on my bad side with my position, you know?”. Jack and Maddie might very loudly and very aggressively deny that ghosts could possibly have a political system but everyone else seemed to accept it at least. Besides, those two hunters being loud about anything didn’t somehow make it true, even if the town believing the whole ‘ghost king’ thing made some of them a lot more leery of Phantom. Like he’d execute them or try them for dissent or something if ‘his human people’ went against him. Some folks moved out purely because they didn’t want to be in a town under ‘some ghost royals rule’, even though Danny had firmly established his Phantom self as the good guy by now. Humans could be so annoying. None of the ghosts got pissy about being under his domain and they were more under it than any human in Amity.

Kwan looks… confused? “No I don’t think I know? Are you, like, an actual ghost cop now? Man that would be so cool”.

What. Hmm. Well. Maybe most of these people don’t know? Most of his old ‘citizens’ hadn’t been citizens for a while before Danny took the throne proper and him doing so got leaked, thank you very much Vlad. Asshole. Though having very public arguments with the Observants in the mild of the fucking sky probably didn’t help, or him actually having to go scary ghost king on that one Ancient that tried poisoning the water supply with corpses. If you’re gonna mass kill people be a proper ghost and do it with your own bare hands. Danny makes a point to have Phantom look to Fenton in confusion, Fenton facepalming, “right. Most of y’all have been gone a while”, moving his hand off his face and giving Kwan a mean smirk, “Phantom’s been the current ghost king ever since he became an adult ghost”, waving a hand around dismissively, “its been, what? eight years?”.

Phantom nodding, “and my town’s, Amity’s, known for five because Plasmius is a jerk and the Observants won’t stop hassling me”, grumbling, “one of these days I swear I’m gonna start shooting them with suction darts”.

Fenton barking a laugh as if he wasn’t fully aware of what his other self was going to say, “if that works I will mock them relentlessly”.

“Please do, anyone who doesn’t give up on political assassination attempts after the third failure deserves to be mocked”.

At this point it was like they felt obligated to try at least once per year, it was very annoying and a waste of his time. At least all the other ghosts who started beef with him provided some entertainment and stretched his muscles out, let him satisfy that pesky little protective obsession of his. The eyeballs were just jerks. At least he had fun setting the last wannabe assassin on fire. Ha.

Kwan blinks before smacking Phantom’s arm hard, “wow! Congrats then! I’m busy enough just being a desk boy usually! Being a king would be awful, no offence”, then smacking Fenton’s arm one, “and congrats on bagging royalty!”.

Todd scowling from a little bit away, “fuck, right, I forgot that asshole got that throne thing, ugh I hate this town”, and wanders off further away from Danny’s hims and their everything.

But someone’s turned off the music, again ugh, it’s Lindsey by the controls and she’s gapping at the hims, “what do you mean Phantom’s royalty!”.

Oh. This shit again.

Everyone starts yelling at the hims again.

“What!?”.

“Oh that’s awesome!”.

“For defeating that dude that abducted the town right?!?”.

“For how long!”.

“That’s absurd!”.

“I could have dated a king!”.

“We sorta went to school with royalty!”.

“Oh my god!”.

“WHAT!”.

“Why are there still ghosts then!”.

“Does that make Amity, like, a royal capital!”.

Phantom buries his face in his palms, groaning loudly. Man Danny remembers going through this back when Vlad leaked everything and the towns folk realised he wasn’t joking. So many questions, an entire press conference even. Fenton crossing his arms and scowling, “there’s an entire press release on it, google it your self, hell go track it down on TikTok I don’t care”.

Phantom sighing again and removing his hand from his face, looking at the people in his line of sight, “yes it’s the throne the guy who abducted the town had. It’s only been eight years and the towns know for five. No I’m not going to mass control the ghosts to stay out of Amity, freedom is a big deal to ghosts. Amity is technically a royal capital but it’s not in the Infinite Realm so that doesn’t actually mean much. And yes it is absurd”, gesturing a hand at his head and making the green flaming crown appear for a few seconds before sending it away again.

Fenton pretty much gets shoved away from Phantom again as everyone pretty much mobs the ghost, Kwan patting an annoyed Fenton’s shoulder, “so what have you been doing? Outside of apparently dealing with Phantom’s craziness all the time”.

(Phantom holds up his hands, “alright alright, just stop shoving my mate around. Geez”. Only a couple of people apologise)

Fenton huffs, at least the man sounded genuine, after all most people didn’t expect Danny Fenton to amount to much of anything. Homeless and jobless was the expectation. It was also almost accurate, if he wasn’t Phantom at least. The only reason he had an apartment at all was because he was better at making weapons than his parents were, even if he sold his more or less illegally. The G.I.W. would never approve someone who was ‘in league with the dead’ to deal ghost tech in any form, even if they did, Jack and Maddie would try to keep him out. At least Vlad pulled his weight by letting Danny sell the more important stuff under the Dalvco brand, like shields and ghost-plant killer that secretly doubled as a Blood Blossom spray. His general weapons were blackmarket only though, fuck the government. “If I told you I’d have to kill you”. Kwan rolls his eyes and Fenton snorts after a beat, “I sell weapons on the blackmarket”.

… It takes a bit but, Kwan blinks, “oh you’re serious”.

(Phantom chuckles awkwardly, “yes I’m a lot stronger now than I was back then, I don’t flaunt that though”.)

Fenton shrugging, “it’s ghost weapons, dude. More ghost friendly, Phantom friendly, and more effective than what FentonWorks or Dalvco produce. And not legislated to the zone and back like G.I.W. tech, plus fuck those guys, no Amity Parker current or past would buy shit from those assholes”.

“Yeah I absolutely remember them shooting live rockets at little kids that one time”, Kwan shakes his head, “I guess that makes sense, can’t do it legally because of being publicly pro-ghost?”.

(Danny internally sighs as most of the group shove pens and paper and whatnot at Phantom, ugh).

“Got it in one, got it in one. It doesn’t make good money but it does make some. Enough for a place to live and cheap food, I’m not moving into the gz regardless of someone’s insistence on how cozy it is”.

Kwan actually takes that comment in stride, good for him, “I mean, you’re gonna be there one day anyways? So why rush it? Even if Phantom would probably prefer you there sooner than later”, the guy scratches his head, “man that must be weird. Being a ghosts soul mate or whatever. Chelsea marrying that old guy was weird enough, a dead guy is on another level”.

Chelsea married a sugar daddy? Really? Okay… Get that bread he guesses. Fenton snorting, “if she’s making bank and living the rich life because of that then good for her”, shrugging, “and outside of him running of to throw fists and laying on the ceiling, it’s not much different from dating a human. Getting bitched at about royal shit is way more weird”, looking down at himself and sticking his arms away from his torso some, “the clothing’s nice though”.

“That’s ghost clothing?”.

Fenton smirks, “yup. This shirt is probably older than our parents. And I think the boots are made from Minotaur hide”. He doesn’t think, he knows they are. Ghost clothing was badass like that.

(Phantom rolls his eyes at Jasper, “no I’m not going to just make people my knights when they die”.)

James pops his head over, “that would freak me out to wear, damn aren’t you worried about ecto-contamination and shit? I’d prefer to stick to stuff made by human hands, cool though”.

Was it weird? He didn’t think so. “There’s so little ecto on it that it really doesn’t matter, besides if clothing was bad for my health Phantom would kill me via cuddles”. Kwan bursts out laughing, and nods repeatedly.

James nods a little, “oh yeah! I guess that would be right huh?”.

The Danny makes a point to have Fenton jerk a little from Phantom just kinda appearing right next to Fenton. Kwan putting a hand to his chest and James yelping a little. Fenton glancing at Phantom, “got bored of being mobbed or doing signatures?”. Ancients everyone wanted signatures and if Phantom wasn’t the duplicate Danny’s sure his hand would be sore for at least ten minutes. Ugh. signing shit for Craig’s goddamn six children was wild though, his poor wife. Phantom pouting, “yes”.

“I did warn you that would happen”.

“I wasn’t going to not show up, that would be rude!”.

At least the music turns back on, thank everything. Dale spotting and hearing where Phantom disappeared to and popping over, “everyone’s glad you came, even if being around a ghost again is a little off putting and weird”.

Phantom rubs his neck, “me being more powerful probably doesn’t help”. Fenton shoving him a little good naturedly.

Dale acts like Phantom didn’t even say anything, “and yeah Fenton was kinda invited in hopes you’d be more likely to show, since both of you were seen near each other a lot”.

Kwan gives the other man a disappointed look, “dude”. Making Dale blink, “oh right yeah that was mean”, and just stares off blankly a little.

Wow. Fucking figured but damn. Jerks. Though right, wasn’t Dale the guy that had some brain damage? Eh, Danny shouldn’t be too mean to the guy. Still making Fenton scowl though, “why am I not surprised, it’s not like I was ever close with any of you shitheads”. James wanders away very quickly at that, and at Phantom growling a little. Kwan scratching his head, “sorry about that, Dale’s not the best at brain to mouth censoring”. Dale blinking and still looking a little far off but nodding, “ah, yeah no I’m not. Eh? At least dogs don’t care about that”.

Phantom brightening up immediately, “oh yeah! Cujo can be a handful but he’s a good boy”.

Dale blinks again, “I don’t think I could handle a ghost dog, all dogs are great dogs though”.

See that? Danny could agree with. Cujo might cause a lot of damage and might drag him around by his ankles but he was still just the best. And getting to have interactions with someone or something that had no expectations of him and couldn’t be disappointed by him was nice. All the pup wanted was a playmate, belly rubs, and to guard his master; nothing more nothing less. Cujo didn’t care if Danny was a king or if he was on bad terms with his biological makers or if he was a little out of touch with other beings or if he technically was an entity that should be impossible to exist in the first place. Dogs were nice like that, unlike people. So both Danny’s nod.

Then, as if summoned by the dog that ‘ruined’ her life, Val shows up. The good ol’ Red Huntress. At least they got along somewhat these days, her and Phantom at least.

Her voice is harsh, “what the fuck”. Ah so she spotted Phantom. This was gonna be fun and possibly annoying or stupid or a lot of things. She stomps over, glaring bloody murder at Phantom who whistles and glances around like an innocent little angel. Man Danny loved to rile her up sometimes, and she couldn’t even shoot him this time! She grabs Fenton’s baggy sleeve roughly and physically drags him off. Leaving a blinking Phantom, “well at least this time it’s him being pestered and not the ghost with the most”. Kwan laughs.

Fenton blinks at Val, “sup, Val. Why are you dragging me around?”. As if he doesn’t know exactly why. Phantom was here and she wanted to know why, the Red Huntress did talk to Fenton him sometimes, since he made ghost shit and everything. Plus the ‘Fenton’ knowledge he had from Jack and Maddie. Danny’s ninety percent sure she suspects him of knowing exactly who was under the helmet, She drags him all the way over to the food tables before responding to him, “I’ve been here all of ten minutes and all I am hearing about, besides people telling me what their jobs are now and Ali trying to get me to join her pyramid scheme, is that you are apparently dating Phantom. What the actual fresh fuck, Danny”.

Fenton huffs, “let me have my love life, gosh”, smirking, “what? Do you have a problem with gay couples?”; that’s not the issue and he knows it and she knows that he knows it.

She swats him over the head immediately, “he’s a ghost you dumbass”, huffing, “I know you tend to side with ghosts but dating Phantom? Really?”, rubbing her temples, “like yes, if you’re going to have a thing for the dead then Phantom’s acceptable but what are you two doing?”.

Fenton smirks, “what we’re doing is being little shits and cuddle buddies”.

“You know what I mean, you shit”.

Fenton chuckles, “and I couldn’t make this anymore clear, I could described what Phantom’s mouth tastes like if you’d like?”; of course Danny could actually have Fenton do that since Danny knew what his own mouth tasted like.

Val glares, crosses her arms, and looks from Fenton to Phantom, from one Danny to the other… then she does it again. There it was, the recognition. “What the?”.

Lily walks over to grab some food, “oh yeah let me guess, noticed the similarities? Apparently they’re soul mates”, eyeing Fenton, “ghosts am I right?”. Danny can tell instantly that Val doesn’t buy that shit, like at all. Figures, she was a ghost hunter after all… and she knew about Vlad’s sorry half-dead ass. AND she’s seen Elle’s human half which was basically just a female version of Fenton him.

Fenton smirks at Lily, “they’re weird, but exactly my kind of weird”, and fucking winks at her. Lily shaking her head and heading back over to a bunch of the other ex-cheerleader girls.

Val looks to Fenton slowly, “Danny? Are you? Are you him?”.

Fenton finger guns, “with him you mean, ha!”, then dropping his hands and shrugging, “it shouldn’t have taken you this long, Red. Like my excuse? All the reactions have been to die for”. She smacks him over the head again, expected, she always did love to rough up his sorry ass. “You know Phantom’s not gonna like if you bruise me up too much”.

“I hate you”.

“No you don’t”.

“Fuck you”.

“You wish you could”.

She throws her hands up dramatically, “I can’t with you! Oh my Zone!”, dropping her hands and glaring at Fenton, “you could have just fucking told me, you know”.

Fenton shrugging, stealing up a little rainbow rice crispy square, “eh, it was better off I didn’t. I’m a lot to get involved in and it’s better that people just don’t”, pointing the square at her before taking a bite, “tough shit or not you still die if someone lops your head off”. Sometimes he did want to try and stop her from the whole huntress thing but who was he to tell someone to not do stupid dumb reckless shit? Plus all the ghosts actually liked her, and that shit counted for a lot.

She frowns at him, “that’s a bit depressing you know? Is that why you’re such a loner?”, shaking her head and glancing at a wall, “I guess I’m not really one to talk though, huh?”.

“No shit, Sherlock. We’re both pretty irredeemably fucked, I just have less of a choice about it”.

“You have a choice“.

“Look me in my half dead god king face and say that again”.

She flinches at that, fucking good, he didn’t have a whole lot of tolerance for people telling him he could just walk away. As if everything wouldn’t go to utter shit without his asses involvement. As if people wouldn’t die or wind up experimented on. As if his realm could function and maintain itself without its king. As if there was anything better for him to do other than rot in bed. As if this wasn’t all he was goddamn good for and all he knew how to do anymore. Everything else is gone and there ain’t no getting it back. He’s fucked. Absolutely, completely, and utterly, fucked. And saying otherwise was like pissing on all his fucking suffering and sacrifices. He was needed as Phantom, as a sovereign and protector. He was needed as Fenton, as the interspecies liaison and defender. And that was all he was needed as. Never anything more and never anything less. It wasn’t his choice to make anymore, even if it’s a choice he would make over and over again if it was up to him. Nothing was changing that till either every part of him collapsed or the universe did.

Fenton huffs, “come on, let’s mingle instead of wallowing in our mildly crappy existences”.

She stands firm, making him eye her, “you do like it though, right? I do”.

Even if he didn’t, even if he hated every second of it, he’d still say yes just so she wouldn’t pity him or try to carry more of the load on her very mortal shoulders. He did enjoy it though, so there’s that, meaning it’s not a lie when Fenton says, “duh. I’m a combative mother fucker, even if somehow no one noticed that trait in Fenton”. This time she lets him drag her off with him.

Phantom giving both of them smiles, “have fun catching up, babe?”. Fenton snickering, “of course babe”. Val glares murderously at both hims but doesn’t call him out on his bullshit.

Silver waving at Val, basically killing the conversation Silver’d been having with his duplicate about their greenhouses poppy flowers. It’s was weird someone being so interested in just… growing a bunch of poppy’s. Like fuck, way to show you have a real hunky-dory life. They actually teared up a little at successfully growing an orange one… Sliver speaking up, “you still stuck in Amity?”.

Val nodding easily, “yeah, what can I say, I like the stupid town. I doubt I’ll ever leave, it’s got me for life”.

Yeah… she was probably right about that. She was married to the game less than him but still was all the same. Her it was more that she didn’t want to stop and felt responsible, rather than genuinely not being able to stop.

Phantom putting his hands behind his head, “yeah, her and her dad run a pretty solid tech shop these days, I get my thermoses fixed there since the Fenton’s are still crazy”. Fenton snorting, “tell me about it”. Did Danny actually need to be doing that? Obviously not. But it was a chance to have Phantom talk with Red outside of combat, and to familiarise her with thermoses in case the worst happened.

After all, losing all his human connections is what made Dan and that’s exactly the way things were now. It was bound to happen if he ever lost his protective drive. Protection and combat are his only drives, one without the other is a problem for his mind. So he’d keep his one connection with Val, for as little as that might be worth in the end, and he’ll keep his protective streak going till it burns him to ash.

Val rolls her eyes at the two hims, “helping the town, even that little bit, is worth it”.

“I hear ya, I hear ya”.

“Hey Fenton! Does Jazz still live in Amity?!”.

Fenton blinks, leaning away from his little group going on and stares at Dash, “fucking no?! Why would she?! She literally left the day she turned eighteen how did you not notice that?!?”, scowling, “and no! I’m not calling her for you! We barely talk anymore anyways!”. Which kinda sucked but she got to live her normal human life that she very much enjoyed.

Dash blinks, “damn!”. Ugh.

Silver blinking at Fenton, “oh? It’s ’cause of the Fenton’s isn’t it?”.

Phantom sighs, rubbing his temples, “I took her away personally. The Fenton’s, aware that Danny wasn’t going to, and in their eyes shouldn’t, take over FentonWorks, burned her scholarships and tried to stop her from leaving. I got her out and a few towns over, saw her off and all that”.

Fenton nodding, “which I was very relieved over, that had been Hell a little bit-”. Silver cringes. “-she’s doing well for herself though, has her own therapist practice and all that. Doesn’t want anything to do with Maddie or Jack, same as me”, shrugging, “she also wants nothing to do with ghosts, so I’m kinda an at arms length sibling if you will”.

“Since you’re dating a ghosts and illegally selling ghost tech? Yeah I can get that”.

Fenton nodding, “ditto. And if she did show up back here I’d slap some sense into her and tell her to get lost before she regrets it”; ahh getting maybe a little bit too real there but oh well. Jazz was a Fenton, which meant that Amity was a place she had to stay the hell away from; Jack and Maddie she had to stay the hell away from. Hopefully she never forgets that.

Then Star pops back in, “alright that’s everyone who’s coming!”. Getting a bunch of raised glasses and food stuff in return. A dark-skinned man with dreads coming in behind her, or… rolling in behind her.

That was…

Tucker was in a wheelchair?!?! What happened! Half the damn point was those two not getting fucking hurt! Was there no point? Had it been a hopeless endeavour?

It takes a bit to avoid dissolving Phantom. As it is his ghost selves eyes flare up a little and his ecto-field wiggles concerningly. Val kicks Phantom in the boot, to stabilise him maybe? He doesn’t know and he doesn’t care. He needs to know what happened, how it happened, could he have done something different? Fenton absently muttering, “I’m going to go say hi”. Val giving him a bit of a supportive back pat that he barely notices, she physically blocks Phantom him from following with a whispered, “Tucker’s Danny Fenton’s old friend, not Phantom’s stay put you”.

Sliver nodding, “I guess it’s no surprise you’re an over protective boyfriend”.

Fenton blinking down at Tucker, “Tuck”. And the guy raises an eyebrow, “been a while since I’ve been called that”; making Fenton, and Phantom, wince. Star walks away quickly, easily picking up on the awkward and probably way to private atmosphere.

Fenton blinks again, “you’re in a wheelchair”.

“Yeah I noticed”, Tucker sighing when Danny doesn’t really have a response to that that wasn’t horrifically insensitive. Tucker putting his hands on his lap, “Danny, you kinda lost the right to ask a while ago, but since you’re concerned enough to talk to me properly for the first time in nearly fourteen years, it’s genetic. I have a type of muscular dystrophy. Now can I get past and grab some food or?”.

Again, both Danny’s wince, him realising that the Fenton one was practically blocking Tucker from getting his… wheelchair past. Fenton stepping to the side with a neck rub, “sorry about that”.

“Whatever, man”.

Danny just kind of stares as the man goes, it hurt a little. The dismissal. But he expected it and it was okay. At least… at least it was nothing he could have done anything about. If anything this means that Danny was right to push him away. Being involved with ghosts would have gotten him killed probably. But… getting diagnosed and eventually having to use mobility aids had probably been crushing to him… and Danny hadn’t been there to support him. Any ounce of support he tried to give now would just seem hollow and like pity. Former friend was the right label for them and he should just let the man go, shouldn’t follow after.

He does of course. Fenton him does. Because the wheelchair and subsequent mild protective freakout has thrown him off kilter. He can tell the man’s glaring at the food table, Fenton him can see it in the reflection of some of the glasses. “Danny I’m really not interested in ‘catching up’ with you”.

Fenton stares a little before Danny can remember himself and that humans find staring creepy. Shaking his head, “right yeah, that makes sense”. Maybe he’d have better luck and less hostility with Phantom him? “Can I ask what you do at least? Then I’ll get out of your hair. You don’t have to ask me shit, or you can, it’s whatever”.

Tucker actually smacks a fist on the table, “I know the only damn reason you’re even trying is because I’m disabled now, so fuck off”.

Shit. Okay. That wasn’t how he was trying to be interpreted. “Tuck-”.

“Don’t”.

Fenton snarls, properly snarling, startling his former friend, “just because we stopped being friends doesn’t mean I stopped giving a damn. But fine, fuck it, whatever”, and basically stomps off. He doesn’t turn around when Tucker mutters a possibly regretful, “shit”. If the man wants to be an ass then fine, let him be an ass by himself. It’s better Danny doesn’t care anyways, it’s better they end on bad terms. Fuck it and fuck him.

Val’s kicking Phantom him again, since Phantom had snarled too. Shit whatever. Fuck it if he’s freaking anyone out, they’re all assholes anyways. Val eyeing the ticked of Fenton, “your mood is rubbing off on someone”.

“I’m fully fucking aware, Val”.

She smacks him over the head, “well pull your shit together, you can’t expect him to want to be friendly with you after all this time”.

“Yeah well I didn’t expect to basically get told to go fuck myself either, jackass”.

Both Val and Silver frowning, Silver shaking their head, “okay yeah that’s a little rude, but he might be going through some stuff, you don’t know. You staring at the chair probably didn’t help”.

“My mind goes to worst case scenarios so excuse me if the thought of someone I used to be extremely close with getting into some kind of horrible accident was upsetting”.

Phantom huffing and crossing his arms, “being dead or surrounded by the dead tends to do that”. Now he wishes Tucker hadn’t shown up at all. He’s going to be pissed off about this for days, fucking asshole.

Val sighs, “okay you’re not wrong on that, I thought the same. At least I didn’t freaking ask though, Danny. I thought you were just going to say hi, not be an insensitive jerk”.

Fenton scowls at her, sticking his arms out, “I didn’t fucking ask, he just assumed I wanted to, which yeah was right”, and grumbles a little incoherently before taking some breaths to avoid snarling at anyone else especially not the only human connection he still had. Ugh.

Val shakes her head at him, “okay I guess you can get to be annoyed, not mad, annoyed. Star’s civil with me even though we had our falling out”, crossing her arms, “Paulina not so much”.

Fenton grumbling, “if Sam had shown up I’d expect her to slap me at this point. Fucking zone”.

Star hums, having apparently made her way over after overhearing her name, “yeah she replied in the discord chat that she wouldn’t deign to show up to rejoin a shitty town full of people that were morally horrific”.

“Ancients that’s messed up, what the Zone Sam”. Fenton blinks and shakes his head, what the hell happened with her? He doesn’t want to know. Was she always that egocentric and holier than thou? If so it was probably better for everyone she had no say in him and what he does. Did childhood him just suck at picking friends? “Wait. There’s a discord?”.

Star puts a hand on her hip and cocks an eyebrow, “yup. All anyone could find on you was an address so we couldn’t exactly give you a code in”.

Val shaking her head and forcing a little laugh, eyeing Fenton, “if I had known no one had your number I would have sent it. I figured you just had no interest in messaging anyone, like me”, she waves a hand dismissively, “I confirmed I was showing up and dipped”.

Fucking great. Love it.

Danny notices Tucker pushing himself over to talk to Jesse. Danny chooses to ignore that. If he sends Phantom over he might just accidentally start a brawl and that was a very bad idea.

Star shakes her head, “would it kill either of you to be a bit more sociable?”.

Fenton immediately responding with, “yes”. Phantom with, “already did”. And Val with, “probably”. Making Star sigh and Silver laugh; Silver walking off right after, Danny pretending not to notice them point aggressively at Tucker. Ugh.

“Phantom! Come meet my husband! He’s heard stories about you and got curious!”. Phantom glancing to the side at Ashely then to Fenton with a quirked eyebrow.

Fenton waving him off, “go, I’ll be fine, you stupid celebrity”. Danny makes a point to have Phantom give Fenton a quick peck on the cheek, making Fenton blush a little, before running off. Val’s barely restrained look of horror is so worth it and definitely improves his mood.

Star shakes her head, “well at least it looks like you’re in a better mood now, this is supposed to be fun”.

“Then why are all the drinks liquor free?”.

“Because Todd has a liquor problem and I know you know it”.

Okay yeah that wasn’t wrong. All the local bartenders knew him by first and last name, zone some knew the middle one too. Sure they also knew Danny by first and both lasts but that was for an entirely different reason… he did also drink though so like it was a toss up. Then she glances to the side, winces slightly, and jambs a thumb over her shoulder, “anyway’s I’m going to check on everyone else. See if more people are better off not being in the same room”. Ouch. True but she didn’t need to say it. Star pointing at Val, “you’re coming whether you like it or not, you can talk to Danny whenever you want”. Val grumbles but doesn’t put up a fight.

Fenton shaking his head and laughing a little to himself, now what should he do? He frankly didn’t feel like dealing with anyone now, especially not all these chuckle fucks. He’s half tempted to just wander into the bathroom and stare at the mirror for twenty minutes self actualising or whatever. Grimacing, yeah he’s gonna do that, plus all this ecto free food was grating on his stomachs nerves.

He could eat normal foods, it’s just the ecto made it taste better and easier on his system to digest. Didn’t help that he grew up eating contaminated shit, thanks Maddie and Jack, and basically only ate contaminated shit after the whole half dying thing; it was an easy thing to do in Amity after all since everything was contaminated. But this was Elmerton and the food was definitely from outside the city, probably to specifically ensure it was ecto free. Yuck.

So Fenton meanders his way over to the gym bathroom/locker room, stuffing a hand in his pocket as he goes. Him popping into the sink and mirror area, kicking the door closed-ish and pulling out an ectoplasm vial at the same time, tossing it back without much hesitation. He didn’t hear anyone else in here and plus he also didn’t super care, which fine was partly because his attention was split into two different places and almost no one would really genuinely question him outside of Val obviously.

Granted Val would know exactly what he was doing and why.

“Did you seriously think I’d been hurt bad?”.

“Fuck!”, Fenton jumps, tossing the vial in the air, (Phantom jerking in his conversation about welding of all things) at the frankly very unexpected sound of Tucker’s voice. It took some doing to actually startle him, but guesses he was in his own head enough that someone was able to pull it off. Didn’t help that he just came from a room full of people whose scents he doesn’t recognise anymore. It bothered him a little. Fenton turning away from the mirror and looking down at Tucker, “uh?”. And then the fucking ecto vial clinks on to the ground and rolls across it in that loud way glass tends to do. Well fuck him, this shit is entirely his fault right oh wow this is instantly awkward.

Tucker stares down at the vial on the ground before looking back up at Fenton, “new question, what was that”.

See that did not sound like a question. Okay, self, shit, what to say? If this was anyone else, other than Val, he’d just say it was a weird Amity energy drink and he was tired and to piss off. Zone he’s tempted to say that crap anyways, but Tucker had sounded… apologetic, even if he’d startled Danny. He can’t not lie though. Well… technically, if he mentally twisted things around enough, calling ecto an addiction for him wasn’t wrong per say. He legit couldn’t exist without ecto, his system was dependent on it, so like, he could go with that? And now Tucker’s glaring at him like he’s thinking about ramming into Danny. Fenton blinking before shrugging awkwardly, “addiction’s compulsory, or whatever. And yes?”. Crap this was a really stupid plan of action. Way more stupid than dating himself, Ancients.

Tucker blinks, “addiction?”, shaking his head, “I don’t even care about the first question now”, frowning, “well I do, you jerk, but less”.

That’s fair, Danny thinks. Fenton shrugs, “that accident fucked me up, okay? Kinda needed ectoplasm ever since. Which sure, wasn’t exactly something I wanted to share with anyone. And maybe I didn’t deal with that well, but I think I dealt with that right. And I guess that’s all that matters”. Okay cool, so this is how he’s going to explain ditching them as friends, great. Fuck Danny’s so goddamn stupid. ‘Addiction’ was not on his bingo card of how to explain how weird he was to people… he really should update that stupid card.

Tucker’s glaring again like Danny’s done something wrong, except Danny doesn’t know why Fenton him is getting glared at this time. “Are you lying to me?”.

Fenton glaring back before sticking out his tongue, which was coated in faintly glowing green of course. Pulling his tongue back in, “do you know anything else that looks like that besides ecto? ‘Cause I sure don’t”; that had a bit more bite than he meant it to but oh well, he’s still kinda ticked off with this man so…

“And it doesn’t get you high?”.

Okay see now Danny’s getting actually ticked again. Fucking damn it. “No. Now if you’re going to just ride my ass then let me out so I can go somewhere that isn’t here”.

Tucker doesn’t move, in fact he locks his damn wheels, “no. Because that last conversation made me feel like an asshole and I refuse to feel like an asshole over you deciding to isolate yourself”, gesturing at the vial that’s still on the ground, “especially if all of it was over some stupid ectoplasm issue, you jack ass”.

“So what I’m hearing is you’re just being selfish”.

“So what if I am, I think I’ve earned that from you”.

Danny makes Fenton him relax over that, because if anything letting people take their issues out on him was something he was good for. “Ugh I guess that’s okay then”.

Now Tucker’s glaring again, “what”.

For fucks sake. “Dude, you’ve known me for years, since when did I ever put myself first? If you want to use me as a punching bag to unload your issues on, go right ahead”, snorting, “cause yeah, I’m well fucking aware it’s been earned. If you were Dash I’d tell you to piss off again”.

Tucker sticks his arms out, basically smacking the door, “so you’ll tell me to ‘piss off’ over not wanting to talk to you but won’t over me wanting to berate you?! Seriously?!”.

“Yes”. Fuck that was weird wasn’t it? Do normal human people do that? Or was he coming off as a massive hypocrite? Or as a masochist maybe?

Tucker pinches the bridge of his nose, still doesn’t unlock his chair though, “damn it, you have a bunch of mental issues now, don’t you”.

“Rude”.

“Yeah well now I just feel like more of an asshole, so there”.

They stare at each other for a beat, Danny’s trying really hard to mostly ignore Phantom having to play nice with Dale and his loose tongue again, apparently the guy really liked bluey. Fuck when was the last time Danny got really genuinely into any tv show? Had he even watched one since he dropped out? Crap probably not. If he had down time he was usually laying on the floor staring at the ceiling with a music playlist running, or having a quick drink with Val, or trying to study ghost history, or replaying an old video game he’s beaten hundreds of times just to feel young and carefree again.

Wow that had to be unhealthy. Not that he really cared about that. Blinking at Tucker, “so… what do you do for work”.

“I’m not telling you”.

“Fuck you too then I guess”.

Tucker puts his face in a hand and sighs very deeply with a muttered, “I was right, I really should not have come”, before lifting his head up and glaring up at Danny with goddamn pity in his eyes, “look, okay, I am sorry about brushing you off if you were genuinely worried about me having been badly injured and I guess I’m sorry you have this addiction issue, but you brought it on yourself. Me and Sam could have helped, you ass”.

“Tuck-”, crap he’s back to calling him ‘Tuck’ goddamn it, “-my head was a fucking mess after that shit, I have literally no memory from the three months after that crap. Just a boat load of pain cutting straight to sitting up in bed violently vomiting up ectoplasm. Excuse me for making some jack ass choices but again, I stand by those choices”, running a hand through his hair and leaning his ass back against the sink, “I thought that shit was gonna end with me dead, sooner rather than later, and I didn’t want to take you guys down with me. So I had to choose between the life I had with you guys and the moral thing to do. Kinda an obvious choice there, to me”. Honestly? Why was he explaining this shit now? Was it because his life was somehow less chaotic now? Or because he was an adult ghost and fully grown into what and who he was? Loneliness perhaps? Or did he just not want Tucker to actually hate him?

Tucker stares at him before wheezing, “Christ I wish you had just told at least me that”, massaging his temples and using the chairs arms to rest his elbows on, “if I remember right, which I might not, you basically didn’t talk and just stared blankly, it was creepy but your parents assured everyone you wouldn’t have any ‘long term’ issues. That you were just recovering and in shock. Not that dumbass fourteen year olds knew shit about shock-”.

Seriously? Seriously! What the Hell! Fenton blurting out, “what the zone is wrong with them! in what world would getting electrocuted by literally billions of volts not have a lasting effect?!”.

“-me and Sam basically carried you everywhere and babied you and then you suddenly flipped on us and avoided us like the plagu- wait what”.

Tucker looks horrified, crap that was not Danny’s goal. Oh well, he’s in it now. Fenton blinking, “Jack and Maddie sucking is what”.

“Dude”.

Fenton swallowing and rubbing his neck, “you guys were taking care of me?”. Okay so maybe Danny had been more of a jerk to them than he realised but still. Tucker glares so Danny bites the bullet and has Fenton respond properly, Tucker was an adult now not some teen who’d do stupid shit like follow Danny Phantom’s sorry ass into combat, “it was something like four billion volts, it was a miracle I wasn’t instantly vaporised into ash. As it was apparently Jazz came home to them attempting to bury what they thought was my dead body in the back yard, apparently I woke up during the argument and crawled out and ran into trees for three days”.

“They told us you were missing because you were in another cities hospital! They tried to bury you?!?”. Somehow Jack and Maddie just keep getting worse. Tucker wheezes again, “well regardless of you becoming an asshole, I’m glad you didn’t die, holy shit”, staring at Danny, “is that why you were so weird about my wheelchair? You thought something like that had happened to me?”. He takes Fenton’s wince as a yes. “Ugh fine you’re forgiven for that then, I can’t hold what’s probably severe trauma and ptsd against someone”, pointing at Danny, “you were still a jerk then and now though. And you basically shoving me away was awful and basically wrecked me mentally for a long time”.

Yeah Danny knew neither Sam nor Tucker took him pushing them away well, but being upset or depressed or confused or worried was better than getting caught in an undead fist fight or losing a limb or getting contaminated by him which he had thought back then would have been extremely dangerous. “I thought it was for the best, okay? And I didn’t mean to hurt you when I was basically hurting myself”.

“How the hell was push me away from my best friend ‘for the best’?!?”.

“Because I was all fucked up and I didn’t want my shit fucking you up”. That was part of it, at first anyways. Then it quickly became more of him having to be the hero and get into fights and not wanting anyone getting caught in the crossfires and waiting them to keep the ability to live normal fucking lives unlike him.

Tucker stares at him like he actually somehow gets it, huh, Danny didn’t see that one coming. “So you thought you’d get us sick? Or something? Just by being around us? Okay I know you’ve always been a bit of a dumbass but goddamn it, Danny”.

“I don’t know what the hell is happening in there but I’m taking a piss in the ladies room! what in the!”.

Both Fenton and Tuck (and Phantom for that matter) jerk a little from whoever shouted from outside the bathroom/locker room. Fenton cringing his face up, “right, this is a public space”.

Tucker sighing, “maybe not the best place for this crap conversation”, unlocking his wheels and roll backwards out of the little sink and mirror area doorway, “I’m still mad at you though”.

“That’s fair. I’m not looking to rekindle friendship or whatever”. Danny uses the man’s distraction to have Fenton telekinetically move the vial back into his hand and pocket.

“Seriously. Jerk”.

Fenton shrugs as he moves out of the little doorway, “I only really hang out with ghosts now and I actually am unsafe to be around too much if whoever doesn’t have a tolerance or protective gear, the ecto-contamination and shit”.

“That’s… pretty shitty actually”.

Fenton giving back a snide, “gee thanks”.

“You still shouldn’t have pushed us away. But I guess you still want to do that, so you do you I guess. Its not like I actually know you, or you me, anymore”.

“Yup”. Tucker bashes him in the back of the legs with the chair for that, “hey!”. Danny making Fenton sigh at the glare… and at Dash attempting to drill Phantom about football like that mattered anymore. Phantom couldn’t be sighing at Dash after all, images to maintain and all. “Look, Tucker, you got pissy over me staring at your wheelchair, that tells me your life’s doing pretty alright actually. If I was in a wheelchair and someone was staring I’d assume they were trying figure out how to use it to kill me. I sell weapons illegally and am dating a death god king, I’m not really shit you wanna be involved in”.

“What about Valerie?”, Tucker making a bit of a face, “that soul mate ghost thing I’ve been hearing is real?”.

Danny is absolutely about to throw Val under the bus, servers her right for still hanging around his half dead ass. “She… is a coworker let’s say, a not legal one”, not technically a lie, the Red Huntress wasn’t legally allowed to do what she did, it was just that no one could actually stop her. Thank fuck for that. Fenton huffing, “and we mostly only talk over drinks or if we run into each other during ghost attacks”. Then smirking, “and oh yeah me and Phantom are fucking match made in hell”. His own personal hell of protective desire and pain.

“You know what, you’re right. You’re an asshole, a criminal, and a necrophiliac; I’m out. I almost want to try but you stopped being worth it years ago. Still glad you’re not dead though”.

On one hand Danny wants to smack the guy, on the other hand Danny’s getting exactly what he wanted; and ain’t that just a terrible thing?

“How’d you find out you needed ectoplasm?”.

Oh Ancients, well… nothing was weirder than the truth with that one and fuck it at this point. “First time I ran into a whisp ghost I, kinda, couldn’t, exactly, stop myself from eating it”.

“You… ate a ghost?”.

“It was a really bad day and I’d rather you keep that in confidence”. Man he legit wants to get out of this damn bathroom/locker room now. Ugh. He starts walking to the door.

Tucker makes a gagging sound, muttering, “no one would even believe me anyway. I’m starting to think he did actually do me a favour as kids and that kinda pisses me off a little. I’ve spent too long being mad at that shit ass for me to feel good about that shit”.

Danny making Fenton pause at the door, one hand on it, “dude, I have freaky good hearing, go see your therapist and I hope you have one. You’re not the lost cause in this bathroom”, and then pushes his way out, leaving his old friend and the friendship more firmly behind.

He absolutely has Phantom ‘rescue’ Fenton immediately, throwing an arm around Fenton’s neck and ruffling his hair with the other hand, “I have escaped Dash and him ‘regaling me’ with his glory days”.

Danny makes Fenton sigh to seem tired, “that’s…”, brightening up, “thats good. He really did peek in Highschool, just like he said he would”. A self fulfilling prophecy, Danny pretty much did the exact same. The biggest jock and the biggest loser both fucking themselves up in the end; how ironic.

Danny makes Fenton sigh to seem tired, “that’s…”, brightening up, “that’s good. He really did peek in Highschool, just like he said he would”. A self fulfilling prophecy, Danny pretty much did the exact same. The biggest jock and the biggest loser both fucking themselves up in the end.

Then Val goes and actually rescues his ass, stomping over, “let’s bounce. I don’t want to be here or around these people anymore, and I want to get shitfaced until I start putting holes in walls or pass out on your crappy apartment floor”.

Fenton quirks an eyebrow, “you have literally never been over? How do you know it’s shitty?”.

“Because it’s your apartment”.

“Fuck you”.

Phantom quirking an eyebrow at her and tilting his head, “and who pissed you off?”.

Val grimaces, “Paulina, I swear she needs to get stabbed a couple times”.

Phantom laughing while Fenton gestures at Val with both of his hands, “no. Bad. If you start stabbing little miss pretty puddle I’ll get stuck having to clean up the blood before the cops show up-”. He can feel Tucker’s concerned eyes on him as the man wheels out of the bathroom/locker room. “-and I really don’t feel like being on crime scene clean up duty”.

Phantom perking up, “eh I could just phase it through the ground”.

“Don’t encourage her murderous desire”.

Val grins, though clearly still thinking this is super weird, “no, let him speak, he makes good points”.

“His only point is letting you make a point with a knife point”. She scowls at Fenton’s joke immediately, nice, at least that makes him feel legitimately a bit better. Either way Danny is content to leave this place before shit goes anymore south, and he has frankly had enough of humans and their weirdly boring plain interests. Looking at the crowd, it actually looked like some others had left. Todd, no surprise there. Charlie that he doesn’t think he ever even talked to as Fenton, he’s not sure if they talked in high school either though. Two of the jocks also looked to have bounced, Dash was still her of course and Scott didn’t look like he actually wanted to be talking to him. Ha. Brittany doesn’t look to be around either, meaning Sarah’s probably gone too if she was ever even here.

And then.

Of fucking course.

His ghost sense goes off.

Val’s reaction is instant, her folding out a blaster, the second she notices both Danny’s straightening up, stiff, and glancing around. Danny making both hims relax with annoyed sighs when he realizes who it is or one of the whos whatever. Phantom waving Val off, “it’s an eyeball, don’t”. The woman throws her hands up a bit, clearly annoyed that it was one of the ghosts that Danny was pretty strict on her not fighting.

Danny making Fenton scowl deeply, “oh fucking goddamn it, not those assholes”. Phantom rolling his green eyes fondly before stepping forward some and cupping his hands around his mouth, Danny should at least warn these people, “hey! Non-hostile incoming! They’re probably just showing to annoy me!”.

The reactions is immediate. Guess spending multiple teenage years in a town constantly plagued by ghost attacks tends to stick with you. Everyone pulling away from the walls, and anything box-shaped, and sticking to groups while glancing around in mild panic. The Observant comes up through the floor, jerk, in all their eye-ball shaped ugly cloak wearing green-skinned annoyance. “Phantom-”. Oh Danny can tell they’re here to lecture him or chastise him or something equally annoying and pointless. Nope. He’s not putting up with this.

Fenton smacking Phantom, “make me a suction dart gun construct”. Danny having Phantom do that without hesitation, even if it was a bit harder to make ecto-energy constructs outside of Amity or the Ghost Zone. Phantom passing over the sorta weapon, it has a pump action shotgun reload for comedic effect. Fenton pumping it immediately and shooting the Observant in the head/eye, “not today, eyeball asshole”.

“Phantom-”.

Oh how chastising, Fenton shots him again, “no”. The suction cups are actually sticking, awesome. But he’s got no interest in actually letting the eyeball actually say anything, so Fenton stalks over, putting a finger in the ghosts face, “fuck off, ‘Phantom’ isn’t your goddamn servant”. The Observant doesn’t look remotely chastised which frankly Danny’s a little goddamn ticked off about. These guys were constantly riding his ass and they act like they had some sort of high ground on him which they did not. So Danny has Fenton kick the ghost in the chest and basically jump on their chest, pointing the ‘gun’ in its eyeball/face and shooting it enough to cover its whole iris; its point blank enough to actually injury the ghost. The Observants were always more powerful as a mass than alone.

“Are you done?!”.

Fenton smirking, “no”, and smacking the ghost on the top of their head with the butt of the ‘gun’. Lowing the ‘weapon’ some, sighing tiredly, “now if this isn’t something actually important, I’m going to rip off all of your limbs”. And Danny means that, he will, he’s had it up to here with these guys.

The Observant, seeming to get this, just fucking disappears with a, “you need to be bound”; like he wasn’t aware they hated how much power he had.

“Fuck you. You exist in my favour”, Fenton hurling the ‘gun’ construct at the ground, it bouncing up a bit before dissolving into goo. Stupid jackasses.

“Geez Fenton where was that in high school, what the hell!”.

Both Danny’s jerking, Fenton looking back to Steven, “do you know how many ghosts annoy me because of that asshole?”, gesturing a thumb at Phantom who glances around innocently. Fenton huffing, “and yeah maybe I enjoy annoying the ones that annoy him, sue me”.

What makes it so clear that basically all these people have nothing to do with Amity any more is how all of them look on edge, nervous, unsettled, scared. They don’t ‘bounce back’ instantly and more than a couple eye Phantom nervously like they had just now remembered how arguably dangerous he could be. That Phantom was a ghost and could very well kill everyone in this room without much effort. As if Danny ever would do such a thing, he was a protector and if they wanted to forget that then screw them. Amity always was the weird place where humans and ghosts could actually remotely get along, even that was a crap shoot, humans would always be unsettled by ghosts and trying for genuine coexistence was fucking pointless. These people simply being away from ghosts for a few years and yet acting put off by one that was less human simply showing up was almost insulting to all his effort. Whatever, what did he care if most of humanity was too damn weak to handle not being the top of the food chain. Making Fenton scoff at everyone’s stares, “guess I should get gone, huh?”, and nods his head at Phantom.

Phantom stretching out and floating up to sort of lay in the air on his back, finger gunning at Val, “coming?”, as he moves to hover around Fenton’s head, ruffling Fenton’s hair fondly.

Jason blinking, “you know, I almost felt like I missed Highschool, thanks for reminding me why I absolutely do not”, and wheezes. While Star waves the two Danny’s off, “yeah should have guessed a ghost that wasn’t invited might follow Phantom”.

Phantom chuckling, “what can I say, I’m very attractive”. Making Fenton snort and blush, “shut up, you stupid ghost”. And making Phantom snicker meanly at Fenton.

Kwan shouting, “you better have a cute wedding!”.

Val rolling her eyes at the pair, pocketing her gun, and walking towards them while waving a hand over her shoulder, “bye. This was nice though”, muttering to herself barely loud enough for even Danny to hear, “regardless of certain people”.

Fenton rolling his eyes and waving at everyone, “I’d say you can easily visit me but I made myself hard to find for a damn reason and I vaguely hate most of your guts, peace bitches”. Phantom facepalming, watching Val and Fenton walk towards the door for a beat before looking to the people, him still floating up in the air, “everyone’s free to give me a visit of course, even though the fact that no one had before makes it kinda clear no one will, no hard feelings about that by the by. Besides, when you die we’ll met again”.

Star sighs at him, “that’s needlessly ominous, Phantom”. Phantom shrugging before floating off, “I’m dead, I don’t know what you expect. I can tell that none of you are going to die soon, so there’s that”, and giving them a thumbs up, absolutely ignoring how that doesn’t seem to actually make anyone feel better. It’s not Danny’s problem if ‘normal’ people aren’t comforted with ominous messages about the not so untimely demise, he thinks it would be a good thing knowing you’re not gonna die soon. Like really. He personally would have loved a heads up that he was gonna half die when that shit happened, a little count down or something would have been nice. A little count down to obliterating everything he used to be and wanted to be.

You know.

For the dramatics.

Danny absorbs his duplicate as soon as he’s outside of easy viewing range of the building, Val quirking an eyebrow at him, “I’m guessing you didn’t drive here?”.

“No? Why would I do that? And neither did you”.

She snorts at him, summoning out her board, “well hop on, I’m still down for drinks so”.

Danny eyes the board, “naw I probably should pass”. Bonding wasn’t really a good idea anyways.

She rolls her eyes, “come on, don’t be a stranger”.

“Being a stranger is kinda the point”. He has every intention of just going invisible and flying off, but she grabs his arm and yanks him onto the board before he can follow through on that thought, her muttering about him being a dumbass the whole time. Danny eyeing her, hands in his pockets and just sitting on the board, stupid stubborn ghost hunters.

Though… looking down, it was kinda nice to watch the city sights this leisurely. It’s filled with spots of damage and things being repaired even here in Elmerton still. It was impossible for everything to stay contained in one simple city after all, sometimes Danny debating expanding is human lair a bit more, just to keep more of an eye on more of it. Perhaps that was a speck of greed or just his overprotective nature.

Really it wouldn’t take much, honestly he had the power and ability to take over the entire planet if he so chose. And really, ghosts did crop up everywhere, and further ecto-contaminated cities and towns would just make more places possible to be common ground of sorts.

It wasn’t a bad idea…

Just not a good or human one either. He had to play human games to thrive and be accepted in the human world, even if those games were sometimes stupid and annoying and isolating. Hmmm… maybe he should get drinks with Val, she was at least slightly better with normal human things than him.

Looking down, there’s some patches of green growing in ash. Life from death, strength from destruction. Kinda like him.

She lands them on the ground, Danny standing easily as her board folds up becoming nanobots under and through her veins; an altered state of being similar and not to himself. Her making ‘come on’ gestures at him before heading in to one of the more beat down bars that don’t ask questions and assumes every patron is involved in something shady or another.

And Danny follows. Maybe he was a little too much of a loner.

End.

Prompts: Pretending to be someone's boyfriend for a night was not as high on Danny's list of crazy-ideas-he-should've-said-no-to as, say, agreeing to become the King of all ghosts, but it was definitely up there. Ten years since Danny graduated high school, and fourteen years since his accident. The former A-listers are organizing a high school reunion, and somehow both Danny AND Phantom got an invite… Seriously, how are these things still happening to him? Parents take apart Danny’s telescope for a new invention. Being dead somewhat drastically shuffles around your priorities. It's been a long time since Danny was able to remember what a human would feel to be important. Tucker Foley's terrible, awful, very bad day. No one knows au identity reveal

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dandelion-roots · 4 months

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[ID: a digital drawing of chuuya and dazai from bungou stray dogs. in the main image, dazai is sitting on a metal counter in a nurse's office, his arms behind him to support him and knees spread so that chuuya can clean his wounds. he has bandages and scars on his arms and bare torso and is wearing white pants and white shoes. with a bored expression he says, hurry up. chuuya, who's opening a green bottle and is standing in front of the counter, shouts, wait a fucking minute, asshole, i'm not your damn nurse! in a smaller follow-up panel dazai shouts, you shot me! and chuuya is looking away while sweating and shouting back, you were being a shit. end ID]

the price of engaging in homoeroticism via shooting you 'old friend' THREE FUCKING TIMES more than necessary is, um... *checks notes* having to patch him up five minutes later whilst staring at his bare chest and then having to set his leg, thus literally putting him back on his feet to do his dramatic victory reveal??? this can't be right who wrote this

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #soukoku #skk #double black #skk fanart #bsd dazai #bsd chuuya #dazai osamu #nakahara chuuya #hehe finally finished this sketch #that whole situation is just like. chuuya buddy ull have to stitch him up urself so he doesnt bleed out to death #men engaging in intricate rituals in other to touch each other??? or smt god knows at this point #also dazai's leg isnt set here yet bcs i wasnt gonna draw that contraption in perspective. not tonight #didnt have it in me #this is already more perspective than i usually engage in. but i must grow eventually so im trying some stuff out #i didnt trans dazai in this one alas. next time folks i do love drawing top surgery scars a la whimsical star shapes #i did get to draw scars tho! i love drawing scars. didnt do it strategically here bcs i didnt feel like it but #it was fun!!#anyway g'night everyone i must go down under the sleepy eepy spell

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lucy-ghoul · 2 years

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I just realized what's wrong with the Targaryen wigs in HotD: they don't look like Targaryen hair, they look like they were stolen from the Malfoys. They all share one (1) or at best two wigs in toto and it makes them look like freaking Lucius Malfoy clones

#jokes aside episode 1 was quite good (yes i finally caved in and started watching the fire lizards show)#there were many nice touches that made me go 'mmmmh good stuff.'#1. the juxtaposition of aemma's horrific death in childbirth/the knights killing each other at the tournament #clearly reminiscent of that quote from one of brienne's chapters... heh now i can't fully remember it in english #2. THEY NAME-DROPPED THE SONG OF ICE AND FIRE (which was never even remotely referred to in got)#the whole thing about aegon and the prophecy has been a particularly favorite fan theory of mine for years and i'm happy it's canon #fake lizard monarchs haters gonna hate :))#tho it's VERY bittersweet considering the got finale... like the prince that was promised was *spins roulette*#a stark all along? like randomly? (and no obviously i'm not talking about jon. he *is* half targaryen after all)#and let's not forget about the true heir being put down like a mad bitch because d&d liked jon better (since he's a man)#and were like 'revolutionary who wants to help people/actually abolished slavery in another continent bad. let's enforce the status quo :)))#(also the double standards. war crimes are okay only if other nobles do it - especially the starks. if you have a dragon and are a woman #and dare to be slightly mortally grey and/or ambitious... in 2 days you're gonna burn children alive!! because ofc.)#..... *cough cough* okay salty rant is over. let's go on with val's hotd first impressions #2. i didn't hate matt smith as daemon and he's particularly good at looking upset and/or sad but i still think he was miscast #3*#like he CAN act and it shows. but it's as if he were making an effort to appear more believable for this role #idk maybe he'll grow on me in the next eps. also his interactions with rhaenyra were a++ but that's nothing new #can't wait for this girl to fuck her uncle ig (...... what did i become skskksks)#4. i also liked rhaenyra&alicent's interactions. this is gonna be another tragic former besties to worsties for me to cry on :(((#5. i mostly liked the costumes. i liked how this is all about the patriarchy (at least so far). i liked the slight but still noticeable #references to the main show (the music. rhaenyra being an obvious dany lookalike.#lord stark pledging his fealty to her while viserys' voice over is speaking about the threat in the north.#viserys telling her 'promise me rhaenyra. promise me' in what i believe is an echo of lyanna's last words to ned... i think?#like it can't be accidental)#god i missed being excited over this stupid and gorgeous series #obv it helps that i actually never read fire&blood (should i?) and i'm only familiar with the events/characters from twoiaf #house of the dragon #val speaks #txt

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danggerine · 6 months

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going insane thinking about the harrow and palamedes friendship. harrow, who has never met another necromancer her age forming a bizarro 3D chess rivalry while pal worries about her safety at every possible turn. harrow, who is up to her eyebrows in paranoia and secrecy, trusting the sixth house with gideon unconscious and hurt, letting them into the ninth house quarters unsupervised. if “i cannot conceive of a universe without you in it” is goth for i love you, “death first to vultures and scavengers” has got to be goth for i love you (platonic). pal’s first reaction when harrow comes into his bubble in the river is to scoop her up in a hug, and at this point she doesn’t remember anything about him because cutting out all her memories of gideon is impossible without cutting out memories of the sixth, but she still makes him a skelehand to inhabit anyway. when harrow’s memories are finally whole, she tells dulcinea she couldn’t face pal knowing that his pen pal girlfriend died on her account, but the next time she “faces” him, palamades’s soul is in someone else’s body and harrow’s body is full of nona’s soul. he spends six months protecting and caring for harrow’s body (and nona obv), believing in the possibility of bringing her back to it the same way cam believed in him. “god, do you know i miss harrow terribly.” and by the time harrow comes back to her body at the very end of ntn, pal is gone forever, fully pauled. the last time harrow and palamades see each other as their complete selves is in canaan house, alive and unlyctored. two of the smartest and loneliest people in the solar system meet each other in the worst of circumstances and spend the rest of the story dancing around each other as fragments of themselves, trying to care about each other in the interim but never fully meeting like they did the first time. a friendship made almost entirely of missing the other person. “do you know i miss harrow terribly.” god. i need to lie down

#behold: a block of text i do not feel like putting paragraph breaks in #i am so fucking crushed that they try so hard to take care of each other in different ways but never see each other ever again #he gave her a lift you off the floor hug in the bubble and she didnt even know why.#the thing that made him miss harrow was ‘look at me like you’ve worked out how to kill me’ bc he knows scowling is her display of affection #she couldn’t even REMEMBER him in htn but she helped camilla find his soul and put him back together anyway #is this anything. am i sounding as insane as i feel #tlt #harrowhark nonagesimus #palamedes sextus #katie don’t look #ntn spoilers #htn spoilers #gtn spoilers

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lovifie · 21 days

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Well, I Wasn't On That Tunnel ❤️

Masterlist - Taglist Form

Next Chapter

Please don't look too much into the plot holes. Canon can suck my ass, I'm making my own, xoxo 💋

Pairings: Ghoap x Reader.

Warnings: Poly relationship, mentions of death, mentions of guns, rotating POV (mostly Simon's), Spoilers → amnesia, smut, voyeurism

“THE TUNNEL IT'S COLLAPSING! FOLLOW MAKAROV! I'LL TAKE JOHNNY OUT!”

That was the last thing Ghost heard of you.

It's been months since Johnny and you were declared KIA on that mission.

You weren't even meant to be inside, you were the medic, you were supposed to wait outside.

But the moment Makarov shot Johnny he panicked.

Ghost panicked.

And Simon panicked.

You came in running, panting for the effort of carrying with you the medical bag half your size.

You were the one who told them to run. To go after Makarov and kill him.

You were trying to wake up Johnny, Ghost knew it was a lost cause. He couldn't find the pulse, he was gone.

His Johnny was gone.

The last thing he expected was that he was about to lose you too.

Once outside, he kept looking at the tunnel. Waiting for you to come out, whether it was dragging Johnny's body or alone; it didn't matter. You needed to get out.

But after the tunnel collapsed and you didn't get out, it was Price who finally pushed Ghost away.

He barely remembers getting back to base, doesn't remember what Price kept telling him on the helicopter, doesn't remember skipping meals for days, doesn't remember crying himself to sleep for weeks.

But he remembers your face, he remembers Johnny's face.

Oh, what a coward he was.

Two people that he loved, that found their way under his skin right into his heart. Two people that Simon wanted to grow old next to, two people that made Simon want to wake up every morning.

And he was still not brave enough to confess his feelings to neither of them.

He used to stay awake late at night dreaming about how he would do it. After a long time of debating with himself, figuring out what those feelings inside of him were.

Until he figured out it was love, only to them have to face the complex situation of loving two people at the same time.

But even how complicated of a man Simon Riley was, when it comes to his wants it all turns simpler. If on the menu there are two dishes that he likes? He is getting both, obviously. Why choose?

So if all his lonely and twisted life he had never loved anyone, now he suddenly fell in love with two people. He wasn't going to give up one of them and their love just for society's norms.

Murder is also against society’s norms, and he gets paid for it.

But it was too late now.

Maybe it was for the better.

He could lie to himself, agree that he never confessed because it was not his destiny.

Not because they would have not loved him back.

Not because they would have been scared of him.

Not because they wouldn't have been able to see past his mask.

Not because they would have rather dated each other than him.

It's easier like this.

Simon knows how to mourn a loved one.

What he doesn't know is, how it's possible he got a message from you this morning when you died four months ago.

You are stepping out of the shower, skin warm from the water and baby hairs sticking to your forehead; when someone knocks on the bathroom door.

You furrow your eyebrows at how hard they knock, the whole door shaking with it.

“Calm down, I'm almost finished.” You grumble, pulling the towel around your body.

You drag your feet over the towel on the floor to walk closer, and open the door annoyed by the insistent knocking.

“I told you I am almost finish-” Your words are cut off by the barrel of a gun right on your face.

You don't even have time to panic, because you immediately recognise the stupid skeleton gloves holding the gun.

“Simon?” You whisper,scared that if you talk any louder he will disappear. Price and Gaz are behind him, slowly lowering their gun when they see it's you.

There is a glistering layer over Ghost's eyes that if you didn't known any better you'd think are tears.

You push his gun down, the man still immobile as if you were the ghost; and you jump into his arms, circling his neck with your arms.

“It worked! It finally worked!” You exclaim, tears slowly running down your cheeks. “I have been trying to contact any of you for months, it finally fucking worked!”

Ghost struggles to tell whether you are laughing or crying, a mix of the two. But he can't focus on that, he can only focus on your skin under his gloves.

God, how he hated his gloves right now.

He bites the tip of his finger, pulling the glove off spitting it somewhere. And he snakes his hand under your towel.

He knows is improper, perverted even; but he needs it. He needs to feel your warm skin under his palm, your heart beating loud and fast.

He surrounds your waist, hands big enough to rest on your ribs, right under your chest.

Boom, boom… boom, boom… boom, boom…

He sighs, melting onto you, his tears getting absorbed by the mask on his face. He hugs you tighter, daring you to slip from his fingers again.

He bites his lips, copper taste on his tongue, to prevent himself from sobbing.

But the sobs can be heard, and Ghost it's almost disappointed with himself until he notices your body shaking.

It's you who is crying.

And he panics again, pulling back to look at you and you cup your face, apologizing.

“I'm sorry. I tried my best, I really did.” He can barely understand what you are trying to tell him between sobs. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry.”

He shushes you quickly, he understands; the survivor’s guilt is a special kind of poison. But he understands, he feels it too.

“It's alright, love. You are alright, everything is going to be alright.” He hugs you again, resting your head on his chest. Mourning Johnny will be easier if you are together, he now hates himself for thinking you were dead; for accepting it.

For mourning you for months and now having you on his arms.

Warm and breathing.

He can only imagine what you went through.

You entered the tunnel because he called for you, and then he left you inside with a corpse.

How did you get out?

How did anyone see you get out?

How did you find a house?

How did you survive alone with the guilt?

Are the scars on your shoulder for getting out or were they always there?

Were you trapped under the debris?

For how long?

But that doesn't matter, he knew you were strong. That you were clever. That you were better than him.

He already knew that.

Gaz and Price remain silent, reading in the situation that there is something underlying that they don't know. Letting the two of you, have your moment.

It's only when Gaz hears the almost unnoticeable steps get closer that he moves, turning his body and almost dropping his weapon in the process when he sees him.

“Johnny?” That's all he is able to see.

And that's all that is needed to hear.

Price and Ghost whip their head around like they have been smacked, coming face to face with the man.

There are still bandages on the side of his head, he looks thinner, less muscles, sunken eyes and dark bags. But it's Johnny.

A scarred, angry Johnny.

Holding the pistol on his hands pointing to Ghost's head.

Looking at him as if Simon was his greatest enemy.

“Johnny…” He tries to talk to him, keeping you behind his back by instincts.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP! WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?” Johnny shouts, his hands are shaking.

That explains it, why he look like a madman, why he looks so scared under the rage, why he keeps trying to look under him.

“Johnny, it's alright.” You finally say, moving from behind Ghost, softly pushing his arm back. You walk ahead, still only on the towel; and you walk up to Johnny. You rest your hand on the pistol, pushing it down with ease.

You raise your other hand to the men, the signal of “wait”.

Johnny looks at you with utter confusion, eyes shaking moving around your face for any kind of explanation. His hand move around you, checking for any damage; the hand that doesn't have the gun clinging to the towel.

You cup his face between your hands, the man bending down slightly to make it easier for you to reach; you whisper something to him making him relax almost immediately.

And then you kiss him.

On the cheek, right beside the nose making him close his eyes for a second.

But it feels like a stab on Simon's heart.

He tries to think rationally, you were just calming him down. He knows Johnny is always desperate for physical contact, that's all. Nothing else.

He really tries to think logically, but logically the two of you are dead and buried under a tunnel. Not standing at the end of the hall, kissing and comforting each other.

Something about it, about the possibility there is something more going on between Johnny and you; sends Simon's inner gears spinning.

He sees the virtual space between the two of you, slowly getting in the shape of his body.

You whisper something to Johnny, he nods, touching your forehead with his for a second, before walking back. Looking at Simon with hate on his cerulean blue eyes.

You sigh, watching Johnny move and turn to the three still shell-shocked.

“As far as I can tell…” You whisper, once you are close to them. “He only remembers up to when he was 20, little more, little less.”

“So he doesn't remember anyone?” Price asks after a moment.

You shake your head. “Not that he hasn't asked me about, he asked about some people but I don't know them. He thought I was a nurse when he woke up.” You explain.

“What happened in the tunnel?” Gaz asks, looking behind you to check Johnny is not back. “How did you get out? And him? He was dead.”

You shake your head again. “Not yet. Almost… but not yet. I-”

“Bonnie! You want coffee or tea?!” Johnny's voice makes everyone jump.

“Coffee, please!” You answer without skipping a beat and turn to them. “I'll explain it later, alright? It's not the place nor the time.”

Price nods once. “Get dressed, I'll contact the pilot to let them know we are flying back tonight, right?”

“Roger that.” The three of you reply almost by muscle memory.

“I'll be fast, don't rile him up.” You say, before entering the bedroom closing it behind you.

Ghost feels Price's eyes on him.

Wondering.

Asking.

What's between you and him?

What's between you and Soap?

What's inside his mind?

“Tea is ready.” It all gets interrupted by the amnesiac man calling them to the kitchen.

They walk together, sitting around the table. Gaz and Price find it almost easy to talk to Soap, about how happy they are to see him again, about how they are flying back later, easy chatter.

But Ghost can't.

Not when Soap finally smiles at Price making fun of Gaz's cap and Ghost's breath is knocked out of his chest.

That's his boy.

Breathing and warm.

Just like you.

He knows it's the universe talking, telling him not to fuck it up again.

Still, he feels his heart sink every time Soap looks at him with such a sour look. Offended even. His boy.

That would jump at any opportunity to impress him, to earn his respect, his affection. Now locked like he wanted to stab him on the chest, twisting the knife in the process.

He knows it's because of you, the way the man stared at his hand as you pushed it out of the towel didn't go unnoticed by Simon.

Not the greatest first impression.

Does it count as a first impression if he has known the man for years?

You walk into the kitchen not much later, Johnny's eyes lightening at seeing you; his saviour.

You walk past Ghost, your arm resting on his shoulder as you bend down to slightly knock your head against Soap's.

And that's it, that all Simon's needs. To be involved. He doesn't need to be in the middle of you two, he is fine with being in the sidelines, but he needs to be a part of it.

He knows you are on his side, you remember him unlike Johnny. You can be the bridge to get him to Johnny; to keep Johnny from running. Make a pack with him; keep the two of you close.

A turmoil of emotions keeps spinning inside Ghost's head, all the versions of himself wanting to be right.

The part of him he thinks is unable to love telling him to let the two of you alone, you are better of without him.

The part of him he thinks is unable to be loved telling him to not even try, save himself the rejection.

The part of him that is still unsure of what even are his feelings telling him to not get involved, that it would only confuse the two of you.

But then there is also that part of him. The part called Simon Riley; that still holds onto the chance of loving and getting love.

And he looks at you and Soap, the way Soap looks up to you. The way he used to look at him.

“Let's pack our things up, Johnny.” You say, patting Soap’s back. “The sooner we are back home, the better.”

And you smile at Soap so kindly, so wide, so warm.

He understands how you managed to calm Soap down. Waking up from what he assumed must be something close to a coma after getting shot on the head, not remembering anything, in pain, alone. And then you appeared, so soft and so kind.

He wouldn't blame Johnny if he was already in love with you, with you being literally the only thing he knows since waking up.

Johnny stands up, walking out of the kitchen but looking back to make sure you are walking behind him.

The two of you disappear down the hall, voices low as you move away.

“I can't believe they are alive…” Gaz comments, sipping his tea.

“Neither do I…” Price answers, sipping his. “Bloody necromancer…”

And you are, Simon was also dead before meeting you.

“I'm gonna check on them.” He says, downing the beverage on a gulp that burns down his throat.

He stands up, Price and Gaz look at him as he does. They are going to talk about him as soon as he gets out, but he doesn't care.

He has made his choice.

He loves you.

He loves Johnny.

He walks down the hall, seeing the door ajar.

His hand reaches the knob when he hears it.

His blood running cold.

“Johnny…”

It's your sweet voice moaning the name.

The unmistakable sounds of kisses inside the room.

“I don't like how he looks at you, bonnie.” The man whispers, his breathing unstable.

“He's your best friend, Joh-Ah!” You moan, interrupting yourself as you speak.

“I don't care! I don't know him. You are mine!” The man grunts, the sound of skin slapping slowly becoming more and more clear.

“Johnny…” You moan again, and Simon is sure that he can hear your cunt squelch around Johnny's length.

He opens the door the slightest bit, just enough for his eyes to see the way Johnny has you bent over on the bed.

With you laying on your stomach on the bed, legs hanging from him without strength to push yourself up. Johnny behind you, a foot on the ground and the other on the mattress as leverage to keep sinking into your weeping cunt.

Neither of you bothered to take off the clothes, simply lowered the pants enough for Johnny to get inside of you. Your pants pooling on your ankles, legs limp with the rhythm Johnny has settled.

Simon wishes he could see your face, pleasure painted on your expressions with your face buried on the mattress. Johnny keeps your hands on your back, keeping you pressed against the bed. But the only thing he can see is Johnny's back.

So he sees perfectly fine when the man turns his torso around, still thrusting into you, and looks at Simon.

He looks straight into Simon's eyes, who panic just for a second for getting caught peeking into their room, into them together.

But the Johnny smiles, not the adoration-filled smile he used to gift Simon with. Instead, is the smile filled with pride that he only kept for after winning a match or catching an enemy.

Johnny raises his hand to show him his middle finger.

As he mouths “Fuck you.”

And Simon wants to laugh.

Johnny wants to play?

Then they'll play.

Game's on.

@waiting-so-long

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darknight3904 · 4 months

Text

You're a Liar

𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: ɪɴ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅɪꜱᴄᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴋᴇʟᴇᴛᴏɴꜱ ɪɴ ᴄᴏʀɪᴏʟᴀɴᴜꜱ' ᴄʟᴏꜱᴇᴛ.

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ / ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ / ᴍʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: ᴄᴏʀɪᴏʟᴀɴᴜꜱ ꜱɴᴏᴡ (ʜᴇ ɪꜱ ʙᴀᴅ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴀ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ)

ꜱᴏʀʀʏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴛᴏᴏᴋ ꜱᴏ ʟᴏɴɢ. ɪ ʜᴀᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴍʏ ᴄᴏʟʟᴇɢᴇ ꜰɪɴᴀʟꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇɴ ɪ ᴅᴇᴄɪᴅᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴡᴀᴛᴄʜ ᴀʟʟ ᴏꜰ ɢᴏᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴏᴛᴅ ꜱᴏ ɪ'ᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ʜᴀᴠɪɴɢ ᴅᴀᴇᴍᴏɴ/ᴀᴇᴍᴏɴᴅ ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ ʙʀᴀɪɴ ʀᴏᴛ.

Mornings might just be your favorite time of day. The way the sun just barely peaked through the curtains and shimmered its way across the bedspread made your shared room with Coriolanus look simply divine.

Mornings might just be your favorite time of day. The delicious scent of bacon and freshly cooked pancakes wafted through the mansion and under your closed door. The promise of fresh orange juice and perfectly hot coffee was enough to rouse anyone from their slumber.

Mornings might just be your favorite time of day. Coriolanus is still asleep beside you. Curly hair is splayed on the pillow, free from whatever styling gel he put in it. His face is relaxed and peaceful as you run your fingertips across his forehead and down the bridge of his nose. The stress of being president is gone from his face when he sleeps and that's how you know, mornings are your favorite time of day.

"I can feel you staring at me."

His voice was still muddled with sleep, deep and scratchy as he batted at your hands trying to keep them off his gorgeous face.

"I'm appreciating the art in front of me," You smile as he finally opens his eyes.

"Your hands on my face are making my nose itch." He says grabbing your right hand and gently squeezing it as he sits up beside you.

You hum a tune of acknowledgment and take in his appearance. Coriolanus' pale skin was a wonderful sight to behold as the blanket slipped and fell into his lap.

"You're staring again." He says playing with your fingers

"An incredibly attractive man seems to be missing his shirt, can you blame me for staring?" You state a playful smile pulling on your lips.

Coriolanus lets out a snort and gets out of bed with a grunt. Long red scratches adorn his back as you watch your fiancee walk across the room towards the bathroom, ready to scrub last night's activities off himself.

Yes, mornings were your favorite time of day. You had warm sunshine, delicious food, and Coriolanus by your side.

But, most of all, mornings were your favorite because you weren't alone.

Coriolanus never truly wanted to leave the bedroom he shared with you. Even now as you groaned and begged him to just lounge around the mansion with you, he wished he could go back to when he felt your soft fingertips brushing the bridge of his nose. He had woken up beside you, cleaned himself, and eaten a wonderful breakfast, now the next step was simple. The next step was attending to his duties as the President of Panem and leaving you to your day in the south wing of the mansion. Despite the tempting idea of staying with you, he knew you'd be eagerly awaiting him, tonight at the dinner table, ready to listen about his day. It was the perfect daily routine and Coriolanus never wanted it to change.

He could feel the press of your lips on his lingering hours later as the newest Head Gamemaker listed detailed plans for the games that were two months away. Dr. Gaul's death had been a blow to the way the Hunger Games functioned as a whole. Now, Coriolanus wasn't sure if the new man chosen for the job was truly the correct choice, he didn't have any of the ruthlessness Gaul had. Sure, he could've stepped in but how would he run the country and dream up deadly traps and mutts for tributes. Sure, he probably could've but that meant so many hours of overtime and leaving you to sleep alone in those overly soft sheets you had hand-picked for your shared bed. This new game maker would just have to do, he didn't want to imagine your sad little face if he didn't sit down for dinner with you each night.

The hours after Coriolanus left you at the breakfast table were terribly boring. There wasn't anything for you to do anymore.Sure, you could've gone shopping or gone to a local park but you hated doing all those things alone. Coriolanus had convinced you that running your Father's weapons company would be overwhelming for you and managed it in your name. As far as you knew it was doing well and was providing many jobs for people in the districts. Everything else in the mansion was tended to by an army of maids and butlers, who were ready at the snap of a finger. So, here you sat in your sunroom that Coriolanus had built as a special place just for you.

You had taken up painting nearly a year ago but your long days of solitude had caused you to quickly run out of inspiration. Now, the paints and easel sat, awaiting your touch but your creativity was gone. You missed Coriolanus and he wouldn't return for another hour. Surely dinner was nearly ready and you wished you were sitting with him, listening to whatever he had spent his day doing. Perhaps you should start a new book before he returns. That'd give you something to tell him about when he did come back.

Maybe the extensive in-home library here would have a book about a lonely woman, wishing for her lover. Maybe there'd be a book all about her and how she spent her days without him and how to pass the time. Maybe, there'd be a book all about her mornings with him and how she never wished for them to come to an end.

It was during these long days that you felt like the loneliest woman in all of Panem. Moments like this made it feel like you were a delicate china doll, only removed from her case to be admired for a few spare moments before being placed back on her shelf.

Two Years Later

Watching. It was something you had gotten good at over the past few months, especially since Coriolanus stopped allowing you to leave the grounds of the mansion. You watched as the boy you grew up with and danced at countless galas faded from view. You tried to welcome the man who sat across from you eating his dinner but it was had more and more difficult as the weeks bled into months and months turned to years. Coriolanus even seldom kissed you now. It hurt even though you knew it was for your own safety. He had admitted it one night in the darkness of your room as he lay beside you. Poison had created sensitive sores in his mouth. You wished he'd stop using it, surely there had to be other ways to do away with enemies.

You felt as though you were withering away, your days were so tedious and you often found yourself eagerly waiting at the dinner table for Coriolanus. Your long days were spent in isolation and you rarely spoke to the staff of the mansion. That didn't stop you from racing to the dining room when the sounds of Coriolanus' return sounded through the halls. Some days it felt like you were a child waiting to tell their parent about their day.

Tonight, it was like your words were falling on deaf ears as Coriolanus was paging through a book while nibbling at the food that had been placed in front of the two of you. Your engagement ring was a dazzling silver as you played with your fingers, wishing he'd look up from whatever knowledge that book might've held.

"Coryo..." You began

"Yes?"

His tone wasn't what you had hoped for. He was annoyed that you were interrupting whatever was on the page in front of him so you didn't elaborate on what you had wanted to say.

Watching. It was something you had gotten good at since there wasn't anything else for you to do.

It was raining the day you found them. You had spent most of the day lounging around and working with the wedding planner Coriolanus had hired so you wouldn't have to do all of the work yourself.

It was nestled in an old shoe box, covered in dust, perfectly hidden behind Coriolanus' clothes on his side of the closet. At first, you had thought it might have been more of Sejanus' things that Coriolanus never gave back to Strabo. Instead what you were met with was worse than a dead boy's things. There, wrapped up in a silky orange scarf sat a single golden earring and an envelope. You swore you could smell lingering perfume on the scarf as you opened the envelope.

It felt like your hands were burning when you finally looked at them. Surely they weren't real. Right?

Two pictures sat in your hands. One of Lucy Gray Baird on some unknown stage, a black guitar in hand. Her pretty dark curls were pulled back and behind her a small group of blurry faces were muddled together, unrecognizable due to the poor lighting. You felt a lump of anxiety and anger swell in your throat when you moved on to the next picture. It was taken as if the subjects of the photo had no knowledge of the camera. Lucy Gray sits on a dilapidated-looking couch with your Coriolanus beside her. Her face was partially obscured as she pressed her lips to his cheek and Coriolanus was smiling, his one arm wrapped securely around her waist.

How long had it been since he smiled like that at you? Perhaps it was even before the reaping that had brought her to the Capitol. When was the last time you saw a truly genuine smile from the boy you grew up with? You wondered how you had missed the way his boyish smiles had transformed into those cruel smirks he donned when things went his way.

Jealousy and sadness burned in your stomach as your mind raced. How long had it been since these photos were taken? It had been nearly 7 years since her games. Coriolanus' head was clearly buzzed in the photo with Lucy which meant it was after he was forced by Highbottom to leave the Capitol. How many times after his return to you had he assured you that nothing had happened between them? How many times had you believed him and his sweet words and actions? How many times had he lied and betrayed you all for another girl who mysteriously disappeared?

Betrayal is what you felt as you pocketed the pictures and slid the box back into its spot behind his fancy coats. Tears were pricking at your eyes as you dressed for dinner, Coriolanus would be back soon and you would confront him about the pictures once he was seated across from you at that dinner table you had sat at hundreds of times.

Dinner is silent as you pick at the cut of steak that was placed on your plate. Coriolanus is talking about how he's on the hunt for another head game maker and how annoying it is but you just can't help but not care. The table that separates you from him makes it feel like a huge ravine has grown between the two of you as you tune him out.

15 years is how long you've known Coriolanus Snow. In those 15 years, you had never dreamed of doing what you were about to do as you removed the pictures from where they sat hidden under your pretty skirt, a floral pattern Coriolanus had picked for your 27th birthday a few months ago. Your heart ached as you slid them across the table to him.

"I found these today. In our closet. Wrapped in your mother's scarf with a gold earring."

You finally have all of Coriolanus' attention as he swallows his food and stops his complaining.

"I thought you said it wasn't romantic. You promised me it wasn't."

Coriolanus glances down at the pictures and reaches out to brush his finger across the one with him and Lucy Gray on that couch.

"You promised, Coryo."

Your voice was breaking. Damn it, don't cry!

"I know I did."

He finally speaks. You wondered what was going through that ridiculously complex mind as he fumbled for his words.

"Then why did you lie? I would've listened if you had just told the truth to begin with." You honestly say.

It's true, you would've heard him out. Maybe you wouldn't have taken him back but you would have at least listened.

"I wasn't thinking straight, okay," He says " I should've told you. I should've gotten rid of that stuff years ago. I don't know why I didn't."

"Yes, you do." You sigh "You love her Coryo. Even now, you're looking for Lucy Gray. That's why you keep me here, you're scared I'll run off like her."

"No, no that's not it. I just...want you to myself." He reasoned

"If that were true you'd let me leave."

"Why do you need to? Everything anyone could ever wish for is right here in this home." He points out, you don't miss the way his fist is clenching, his nails digging into his skin.

"I haven't left the mansion in two years!" You cry, blinking back tears "I feel like some prize you've won and caged up! You don't even let me attend galas anymore."

"You hated those galas. All the nosey reporters and their questions were something you hated. Do you want me to apologize for doing you a favor? I won't. I've done nothing but make your life easier." Coriolanus says

"Yes, you have made my life easier, you've eliminated all challenges I might come across by keeping me here, like a doll." You agree, tone dripping with sarcasm

"Look, if you want you can go to the next gala with me. It's in a week I'll get a designer here tomorrow morning to make you a nice dress." Coriolanus sighed, clearly tired "I don't want to argue with you about petty things"

"Good, then we can argue about these photos." You say, ready to finally hear what he had to say.

"I don't love her. Maybe I did at some point but none of that matters now, I came back to you didn't I?"

Maybe I did at some point.

Hot tears fell from your eyes as you looked down at your feet. How could you be so stupid? Why didn't you see it sooner?

The sound of Coriolanus getting up and walking towards you had you wiping at your face and unattractively sniffing as you tried to fix your runny nose. You didn't want him taking your tears as a sign of weakness. He couched down beside you and pulled your chair out so you were facing him.

"Stop crying." He commands placing his hands on your thighs.

Another fresh set of tears falls from your eyes and Coriolanus brushes them away.

"You're a liar." You say, your voice barely a whisper

"I'm not...I want to be here, with you. I'll let you go back out on your little shopping trips and attend galas, shitty reporters and all."

It's tempting, to agree and let everything perfectly mend itself. But as you glance at the pictures that fell off the table and Lucy Gray's face stares back at you, you feel your heart sink to your feet again.

"You're a liar." You say, this time your voice comes out strong as you push his warm hands from your face

Coriolanus gives you a hard stare but lets you pull away from him.

"You can't even apologize for seeing her." You point out

Coriolanus looks guilty as he disgests your words.

"What happened between the two of you?" You asked

"She ran off, I think. I also had some personal issues after Sejanus was killed. She offered for me to go with her, I almost did." He says

You let out a soft hum of acknowledgment as Coriolanus remains in front of you, on his knees, fiddling with the end of your skirt.

"I don't think I ever really loved her. I think it might've just been the idea of possessing her that I liked." He admits, eyes on the floor

"And how is that different than us now?" You ask

Coriolanus' eyes snap up to yours when the question leaves your lips.

"It's different because...we're us...We grew up together, darling. You ate Tigris' cabbage soup and gave me lunch when I didn't have money for my own."

You swallow the lump in your throat and stand up. Coriolanus immediately rises, not interested in being so much shorter than you. You know what has to come next but you're not sure if you're strong enough to do it. Your actions will close the chapter of a book 15 years in the making.

"Coryo...I think I want to go home." You say looking up at him, fresh tears pool in your eyes.

"You are home. You're with me." He says reaching out and taking your hand in his

"No, I mean...to my family's home. I want my mom, I miss her." You admit, pulling your hand out of his.

Coriolanus' face is confused as you look down at the gorgeous ring he gave you at his proposal. It looked so perfect on your hand when you woke up just this morning but now it felt like a death sentence as you sighed.

"I think you should have this back too..." You say as you slip it off and hold it out to him, "I'm sorry about things ending like this, but if you can't even apologize, I don't think I can stay."

Coriolanus' confusion quickly morphs into anger as he looks at the ring in your hand.

"Put it back on. I'm not letting you walk away." He says, upset

"Coryo, don't make this difficult." You say taking the ring and placing it into the pocket that sits just above his heart in his button-up shirt.

You begin to walk towards the looming archway that marks the entrance to the dining room but you're blocked by an angry Coriolanus Snow, tears in his eyes, fists clenched, and his mouth set in a cold line.

"You're not leaving. I won't let you."

Part Four

Series Masterlist

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#the hunger games #fanfic #coriolanus snow smut #young coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #katniss everdeen #mockingjay #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #lucy gray baird #tom blyth #rachel zegler #coriolanus snow fluff #sejanus plinth #thg #tbosas #coriolanus snow x fem!reader

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maevesheart · 4 months

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only angel

FINNICK ODAIR X FEM!READER

note: takes place during the third quarter quell!

summary: through your alliance with katniss, you and finnick rekindle some buried feelings.

wc: 3.5k

tw: cursing, the different death traps within the arena

only angel (2)

Haymitch’s voice was sharp as he led Katniss and Peeta through the list of their new competition.

Your face lit up the screen, a smile as you took your place next to Brutus, your district-mate. Who you’d soon need to kill.

“Y/N L/N. District Two.”

“In the Capitol, they call her the angel,” Haymitch laughed, taking a swig from his flask after pointing to you.

“She looks harmless,” Peeta commented, noting your smaller-build as compared to other victors, especially Brutus.

“Trust me, she isn’t,” Haymitch shook his head, walking to the other side of the screen.

“The angel of death. One of the youngest Victors ever, winning the 68th games at 15. A Capitol favorite, but very different than the rest of the careers.”

Katniss and Peeta looked at each other in confusion. Considering you were from Two, you would’ve been a key member of a career pack.

Haymitch noted their expressions and continued, “she killed her career pack the first night. It was three versus one, very gruesome. But the Capitol loves her, and she’ll likely get lots of sponsors. The other careers will be hesitant to ally with her, including Brutus, who she publicly hates. Try not to make an enemy of her, she’s extremely well-trained in combat, especially with swords. Highest kill count the games had seen in years, around ten tributes.”

It was common that Career packs turned on each other as the games progressed, but to kill off the whole pack in one night was almost unheard of.

Katniss and Peeta remembered your games, they remembered watching as you slit your district-mate’s throat, and when you broke another’s neck while sitting on their shoulders. They remembered watching you in the final moments, taking out both tributes from Eleven with one sword, going through both their abdomens. You always put on a show for the Capitol citizen’s, killing the other contestants in the most gruesome ways possible.

And they knew that they definitely did not want to be on the receiving end of one of your death tricks.

“Why would we ally with her if she’s just going to kill us the first night, like she did her other games?” Katniss’ voice was hard and her lips were pressed in a straight line.

“Don’t we have that threat anyways? From all the other tributes as well?” Peeta asked Katniss, trying to get her more accustomed to the idea of an ally.

“The other Careers will steer clear of her, I recommend finding a way to get her on your side. The last thing you want is the Careers and the Angel hunting you.”

Katniss and Peeta both made a note to introduce themselves tomorrow during the parade, wanting to asses the angel of death themselves.

You scoffed looking down at your outfit, a thin, short bodycon dress that was golden, and a long flowing black and gold cape that reached the floor.

You had on knee-high boots, adding to the obvious sexual-appeal of your outfit. You would’ve killed your stylist on sight if it weren’t for the many other tributes and people around.

And of course, she had strapped you into a set of golden wings, always playing into the sardonic nickname you had been given all those years ago.

The sponsors loved it however, and you knew exactly how to play into the palms of their hands.

Brutus was in a matching get-up — without the wings, of course—, flexing his arms, waiting for a response from you. You hated him, and made it very well known.

You turned away, refusing to give a reaction. God, you detested your district. The only thing good that ever came out of the games for you was the money, which helped you and your family greatly, but you found your fellow Victor incompetent and selfish.

Your somewhat blissful bubble of isolation was broken when Finnick approached you, the two tributes from Twelve trailing him.

You rolled your eyes, rather dramatically, and stepped down from the Chariot, not missing the obvious ways the two men’s eyes raked up and down your very exposed body.

“I’ll make note of those stares when I decide to kill you,” you smile, earring a chuckle from Katniss. At least someone found it funny; you didn’t.

“And this is Y/N, my lovely friend,” Finnick announced, snaking an arm around you.

You and Finnick had a short-lived relationship a few years back, after you had won your games. He had won his very young, just like you had, and the two of you bonded over the shared trauma.

Snow had destined you to the same unwilling fate as Finnick, selling your body and pride to anyone interested in the Capitol.

Your brief love story ended after a rather bitter fight, you and Finnick throwing around baseless accusations.

You hadn’t talked to Finnick in over three years, other than the surface-level and small-talk conversations you shared at various parties and Victor events.

“Hardly a friend, but you know,” you smiled, pushing Finnick’s arm off your body.

If he was hurt by your action, he didn’t respond, and ushered for Peeta and Katniss to introduce themselves.

Finally, Peeta broke the tension.

“I’m Peeta, and this is Katniss,”

You recognized them, but honestly didn’t care. You knew Katniss could be a strategic killer but Peeta really didn’t have any skills other than his strength, and you figured he’d be an easy target.

“If we were under different circumstances, I’d say it’s nice to meet you. But I don’t think I should say that to someone I’ll be killing in a few days,” you laughed, the sickly-sweet one that you faked for the Capitol citizens. They loved you, more than they loved the star-crossed lovers. And you were not about to let two teenagers forget their place.

Katniss’s face was hard, but Peeta broke an awkward laugh, eyes averting your gaze. Finnick was still smiling, trying hard to keep himself from laughing at your depreciating jokes.

You suddenly pointed to Katniss, a fire burning beneath your eyes.

“You’re the one who killed my Cato,” your voice was hard, almost… emotional?

Peeta’s eyes widening, remembering the boy from Two who almost killed them both. The boy you likely poured hours of training and dedication into.

“It was him or Peeta,” Katniss speaks, refusing to break your intense eye-contact.

You cock your head to the side, silently challenging her.

Cato was a strong warrior, fierce and powerful. You had high hopes he would win, unrelenting confidence in him. You mentored him the way Enobaria had mentored you… made him into a friend.

Looking back, you knew you had become too attached to the boy, but he was your shot of proving to everyone that you still had it in you. To not discount you.

Only other mentors would know the pain of becoming close with a tribute and then watching them die.

You didn’t respond to her, instead pursed your lips and held back a scoff, knowing he would’ve won if it weren’t for the Capitol’s adoration of the lovers from Twelve.

“I apologize for her crudeness. The games bring out her nasty side,” Finnick smiles, hiding a wince when you lodge your elbow into his ribs.

“Tiny but mighty!” He squeaks out, hand rubbing over where you just jammed him.

With one final rake over your unsuspecting body, Katniss grabbed Peeta and ushered him away. Much to your dismay, Finnick stayed next to you.

“I’m making us allies, Y/N. At least act a little civilized!” Finnick’s voice was low but stern, earning a scoff from you as a response.

“You think I’m going to fight alongside you?” You wonder aloud, narrowed eyes barring into his.

He looks slightly taken aback, eyes widening before he composes himself once again.

“Fine. I’ll see you later,” he brushes you off, walking away to his own Chariot.

You had your own friends in this game. Johanna, and… well that was really all. And you knew Johanna would want to work alongside Finnick as well.

You determined it wouldn’t be the end of the world, it would give you the ability to ensure that he wouldn’t be killed.

But that meant that you’d have to kill him in the end, right? There was only one winner, and you didn’t want to have to turn on your friends like you did the other Careers in your games.

The next day, during training, Katniss approached you alone.

She watched from behind as you practiced with Johanna, a sword in each hand blocking her repeated swings with her axe.

“No lover boy?” You asked, turning around and the swords lowering to your sides.

Johanna smirked, crossing her arms over her chest. She was one of the few who you didn’t dish out attitude to.

“Wanted to get to know you myself, Angel of death,” Katniss spoke, voice steady and unwavering.

You lightly tilted your head to the side, smirking at her use of your infamous nickname.

“Well here I am! An Angel in the flesh. What can I do for you, girl on fire?”

“If you teach me some of your combat tricks, I can teach you how to use a bow?”

You quirked a brow at her offer, Johanna stifling a laugh behind you.

“I know how to shoot a bow and arrow,” you replied. Katniss’s face didn’t falter, but she stayed silent for a moment before responding.

“Not like I do.”

You finally gave in, letting her instruct you how to properly pull the string back and which eye was most ideal for accuracy.

You worked with Katniss and found her company rather enjoyable. According to Enobaria, Katniss reminded her of you. Stubborn and combatant.

She was funny, usually without meaning to be, and as much as you hated to admit, your craftsmanship with the bow did increase. Even after just a few practices with her.

In the second day of training, you were teaching her how to effectively wield a knife, and where the best places to aim for were.

A few other tributes had gathered around to watch before you scared them off, mock-lunging at them from your spot on the mat.

“Making friends, are we?” Finnick’s voice cut through the sounds of Katniss’s grunts as you pinned her to the ground, snatching the blade from her hand.

You rolled your eyes and stood up, sticking out your hand for Katniss to take.

“Better than you, yes,” you smiled, hauling Katniss’s body up off the ground.

Katniss thanked you for the help and then excused herself, slinking back over to where Peeta stood with Mags.

“Finally taking my advice, it seems,” Finnick triumphantly smiled, watching you scowl.

“She wouldn’t make a bad accomplice,” you answer back, though slightly abashed.

“Mhm. Looks like we’re gonna be on the same team,” he picks his trident off the wall of weapons and you gesture for the mat you had just stepped off.

“Wanna go a round?”

You watched with annoyance as Cashmere and Gloss stood with Ceaser, fake crocodile tears down both their faces.

You agreed with all they were saying, but you couldn’t stand the faux-ness of everyone around you. You knew in a few moments it would be your turn, and you’d have to get up on that stage and act like the sweet little girl they all remembered you as. But you had changed, and all because of their stupid games.

“Everyone, please welcome our favorite angel, Y/N L/N of District Two!”

You plastered a grin on your face as you waltzed out, a large sun-inspired headpiece catching the attention of the audience.

Your halo, as they all would say.

You waved, laughing at every joke Ceasar cracked.

“We are so glad to have our Capitol’s Angel back, aren’t we everyone?!” Ceasar’s stark-white smile was bright and you mimicked it, blushing as the crowd cheered your name.

“Now, Y/N, it’s been seven years since you won your games. How do you think this time it will be different?”

You knew it was coming, the questions about your game. You hated speaking about it, but it was all a part of winning.

“Different? Oh, Ceasar, we both know this won’t be the last time you’re gonna see me!” You giggled, the crowd roaring with excitement over your confidence.

His laugh boomed through the auditorium and you smiled, having him eat right out of your palm.

He complimented your hair piece, noting that it was the perfect halo for the perfect Angel. You smiled, feigned innocence. Anything to get you sponsors.

“Our sweet Y/N, I don’t know how we’re going to let you go!”

“Well, you don’t have to!” You smiled again, the audience awe-ing.

“You all have been so gracious to me, so wonderful. I couldn’t have possibly been given a better life if it weren’t for you all,” you gestured out to the audience.

“You flatter us,”

“No, no. Just know that I’m not going by choice. And I would chose to stay with you all if I had the option.”

You shed a stray forced tear from your face, slightly smudging the makeup your prep-team had spent hours doing.

The audience loved it, continuing to play into your sweet facade.

How ironic. A sweet innocent angel who turns into a brutal murderer.

They roared as you stood up and gave them a small bow, before joining Brutus and the siblings up in the stands. The three of them offered you glares, knowing you had out-done them in sponsorships.

You watched impatiently as the other districts rolled in, holding in a gag when Finnick professed his love to a girl back in the districts.

The idea of him having a girl waiting back in Four caused your stomach to begin to hurt. How did he find someone else when your nights were spent alone in a cold bed?

You were jealous, though you wouldn’t admit it out loud. You were too stubborn for your own good.

You knew it wasn’t true though, just a ruse for possible sponsors and sympathy. You had done the same.

Finally, after Peeta had stepped down from the stage, you were all allowed to retreat back to your floors.

You laid in bed that night, every possible scenario wracking your mind. These weren’t gonna be like your games. There was no way.

These competitors, they were ruthless and driven, just like you. They had won once, just like you.

How the hell were you going to win this?

The first thing you noticed as you were brought to the surface was how hot it was. Blazing sun beating down onto your covered skin.

You didn’t let yourself focus on for long, and you looked to each side, Johanna on your left and the male tribute from Six on your right.

Johanna nodded to you, and you returned the gesture. She had snuck to your room last night and told you the plan. Haymitch had pitched it to her before the interviews, and your only job was to keep Katniss safe until Plutarch and Coin could retrieve all of you.

You took in your surroundings, lots of water — you were an excellent swimmer, you’d be fine —, a large cornucopia in the middle (easy enough if you’re fast), and dense forests with sand. The sand left a bad taste in your mouth, reminding you of your games, which had been in a desert.

You never wanted to see sand again in your life.

But you’d push through it, the idea of being rescued by Thirteen and finally getting to live in peace resonated in your mind, you knew who the real enemy was.

The sound of the familiar gong sounded out, and you dove into the water, moving your limbs as fast as you could.

You were small, but damn, you were fast.

You reached the Cornucopia in record time, lunging for your two swords, and then throwing a belt of knives around your body.

You turned, knife quickly entering the abdomen of the girl of Eight.

Gloss grinned at you from behind the girl, and you scowled back, running back down the middle to get to the sand.

You found Wiress in the middle of the rocks, and tugged her with you, finding Johanna and Beetee a little ways away.

“Let’s get as far as we can,” Johanna announced, axe glistening in her hand.

The four of you walked for what felt like hours, Beetee and Wiress whispering about something relating to technology that you didn’t care about.

Finally, once nightfall neared, you set up camp. Wiress and Beetee offered to stay up, and you and Johanna had no problem allowing that, drifting off to sleep against a tree.

The next day came quickly, the four of you trying to gain more ground and hopefully find Finnick, Katniss, and Peeta.

You had watched Mags’s name flash across the sky last night and felt your heart-strings tug, wishing you could console Finnick.

The landscape was vast and there was lots of vegetation, your sword becoming very useful to get through the thick plants.

You and Johanna walked behind the two tech-savvy’s, silence as the two of you tried your hardest not to trip.

“Fuck, it’s hot,” you groaned, wiping the sweat from your forehead.

Johanna hummed, but before she could respond, the sound of rain echoed around your bodies.

You cried in happiness, opening your mouth to take in the water.

As soon as the first drop hit your tongue you knew, eyes widening in realization.

“It’s blood! Run!” You screamed, tugging Beetee as you barreled to the ground, running through a thick fog of blood.

Who’s — you didn’t want to know.

You stumbled around in the dark, blood coating your entire body. You were choking on it, coughing and sputtering, not caring anymore if Beetee and Wiress were following.

Your foot caught on a root, and you went tumbling down, one sword being thrown to a side, out of your view.

The belt of knives sat snug around your waist, your other sword still in your palm.

You shrieked as you fell, Johanna’s voice distant as she called your name.

You hit a tree, back bracing most of the impact. You groaned, slightly pushing yourself up off the ground.

A hand gripped your bicep, tugging you off the ground. You weren’t entirely sure who it was, but they shoved your other sword back into your hand, and gave you a push forwards, encouraging you to keep moving forwards.

You obliged, using one sword as a brim to keep the blood rain from your eyes.

“Y/N! Y/N!”

You now could hear Johanna more clearly, her hands grabbing you and pulling you into the sand, Beetee trailing out after you.

Johanna repeatedly slapped your back, helping you cough out all the blood. You were gagging on the air, a hand on Johanna’s shoulder to steady yourself.

She pulled you towards the beach, helping you sit down in the water.

“Tick tock, tick tock,” Wiress mumbled behind you two, wandering around on the sand.

“Nuts,” Johanna shook her head, cleaning off her face as you did the same.

You winced as you moved down to clean your legs, a large gash across your thigh.

“Ouch,” Johanna commented, noting the blood pouring out the wound.

“Guess I sliced it when I fell,” you bit your lip as you tried to clean the wound, using the sleeve of your top.

“Y/N! Johanna!”

Your head snapped up at the sound of Finnick’s voice, a relieved smile spreading across your face.

You ignored the pain searing through your leg as you rushed to him, hands wrapping around his torso.

He stumbled back in shock, but quickly wrapped his arms around you, asking what was wrong.

“Oh, Finn, I’m sorry about Mags,”

You pulled back to look at his face, eyes softening over the clear sleep-deprivation.

As you went to take a step backwards, you winced, Finnick’s hands on your biceps to keep you from toppling backwards.

“What happened?” He asked, eyes scouring your whole body.

You would’ve answered if you had the strength, but you fell forwards, straight into his chest, losing conscious.

Johanna helped Finnick prop you against the tree, and Katniss went to retrieve water while Peeta tried to fish for something to eat.

Finnick tried his hardest to clean the wound while you slept, prying all the information out of Johanna that she could.

You awoke to Katniss pouring water over your leg, grunting as you sat up, eyes screwing shut in pain.

“Thank you,” you breathed out, Katniss nodding before walking away to Peeta.

“You had me so worried,” Finnick shook his head, eyes not leaving your face.

“Just a cut, Finn. I’m alright,” you assure him, eyes soft as they meet his own.

“I’m sorry, by the way,” you add on, turning slightly so you’re facing him.

He shakes his head but you continue, “for all those awful things I said to you…. It wasn’t right.”

You knew this was being broadcasted for all the Districts to see, but you didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was that he knew how much you regretted your harsh words.

His hand comes up to cup your face, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

“I’m sorry too, I said things I shouldn’t have.”

“We both did,” you lightly laugh, pulling a small smile from Finnick.

“I missed you,” he whispers, “you really scared me earlier. Thought I had lost you,”

You shook your head, leaning into his hand that still cupped your face.

“Could never lose me. Not now,”

You flutter your eyes closed as his lips meet yours. Your hands tangle around his neck and into his hair, both his hands on your cheeks, pulling you impossibly closer to him.

All the unhatched feelings and emotions, the words the two of you wished to declare to each other, were poured into this kiss.

It was slow, passionate. Picking right up where you left off those years ago.

“Alright, love birds! Time to hunt!” Johanna exclaims, the two of you pulling a part. A light blush dots your cheeks and Finnick is wearing one of his stupid shit-eating grins.

Finnick stands quickly, helping you up. The pain is mostly gone, just a light sting as you all make your way back to the Cornucopia.

And you know then, that you’d die for him. Over and over. You’d lose these games, lose the war. Just to ensure that he’d live.

#imagine #angst #maeve writes 🎀#thg finnick #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair #finnick odair x you #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair fluff #the hunger games #catching fire

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lightsoutletsgo · 18 days

Text

the one where ollie lives alone (cl.16 x bearman!reader)

pairing: mainly ollie bearman x oldersister!reader for this part but there's a plenty of charles leclerc x bearman!reader here and there!

word count: 4.2k

warnings: a whole lot of stupidity mentions of death, seemingly angsty in some parts (you'll see what I mean) this might be one of my favourite parts I've written for any series ever 😭 it's so dumb but so funny (according to the people who proofread for me!) as always let me know what you think! your comments are always appreciated. happy reading! mimi 🤍

taglist: @arieslost @iamapersonwholikesunicorns

“Jesus Y/N, what the hell is in here?” Ollie wheezed as he staggered past you, arms straining under the weight of the box he was carrying. You rolled your eyes, “You’re so dramatic Ols, it’s literally just makeup.”

“Is that the last box ma belle?” You turned and saw Charles in the doorway, staring at you fondly. “Mhmm! Everything else is in the van.” You held your arms out to him and he crossed the room, pulling you in by your waist and kissing you softly, “I can’t believe you’re finally coming home with me…” You smiled, looping your arms round his neck, “Me either,” He booped your nose with his own, a loud cough making the two of you jump apart as Ollie leaned against the doorframe, one eyebrow raised, “Are you two done being gross?” “Shut up dummy.” You punched his arm as you walked past him towards the front door. You inhaled deeply, it felt strange but exciting to be moving out and into Charles’ apartment.

Behind you, Charles watched Ollie stare at you, looking like he wanted to say something. He quietly padded up behind the younger driver and nudged his arm, “Are you going to miss her?” Ollie was startled but quickly scoffed, “Hmm? No way!” Charles gave him a pointed look, “I get the whole place to myself! I can’t wait!” Charles gave him a smile and punched his arm gently, “We’re only ten minutes away if you need us.” Ollie laughed, “Thanks but I can manage!”

♯ incident 1 - the dishwasher ⊹.∿ As it turned out, Ollie could in fact, not manage. Mere hours after you’d left him, you found yourself sprinting back up the stairs, cursing the old apartment building for still not having an elevator. You reached the floor of your old apartment and checked the door to see if it was open, turning the handle and entering you called out, “Ollie? I got your text!” You poked your head into each room as you went, searching for him, “What’s the emer…gen…cy…” You trailed off as you reached the kitchen, Ollie staring up at you with wide eyes, crouching next to the dishwasher that was… pouring out soapy bubbles? “Ollie!” “I think I made a mistake.” He said dryly, suspiciously poking some of the bubbly foam next to his shoulder, “Yeah, no shit Sherlock.” You said sarcastically, thinking of a solution, “You put dish soap in didn’t you?” He nodded sheepishly, “There were no dishwasher tablets left so I just… thought on my feet?” You facepalmed and sighed, “Okay well, we need to- DON’T OPEN IT!”

You looked on in horror as Ollie pulled open the door and a torrent of soapy warm foam spilled out and all over the kitchen floor, creeping further into the centre of the room, was it… growing? You looked over at your brother to see him staring back at you with comically wide eyes. “So that’s why we don’t do that.” You said, face deadpan. Ollie giggled nervously, “Oops?” A snort from behind you had you turning round to see Charles filming the whole thing, “Oh some help you are babe.” Charles coughed to cover up his laughter as he put his phone away and entered the foamy bubbly monstrosity that was now the kitchen. “Somewhere under here there’s a bucket and mop.” “Ollie?” “Yeah?” “You’re going in.”

♯ incident 2 - french toast ⊹.∿ A few days had passed since the dishwasher incident and you dozed in Charles’ arms, enjoying the lazy Sunday morning sun slipping through the bedroom curtains. The previous night’s activities had left you a little worn out and with no plans for the day, you had wordlessly agreed that a cosy day in bed was just what you needed. A shrill sound pierced the air and jolted both you and Charles awake. You scrambled to find your phone, as Charles groaned, hands rubbing his face as your hand came up to feel how quickly your heart was pounding. You glanced at the screen as your hand met your phone and you scowled, Charles rubbing your back and doing his best not to laugh as he saw who was calling you, “Ollie Bearman, you better have a damn good reason for calling me this early on a Sunday morning.” There was a pause, “It’s eleven o’clock?-” “That’s not the point!” You sighed, “What do you need?” “Well, you see… I have a question.” “Go ahead,” “So I was making french toast right? And I followed the recipe exactly as you wrote it out! Right amount of eggs, milk and sugar.” “So what’s the issue?” Ollie sighed, “It won’t cook but it smells a bit smokey…” You pinched the bridge of your nose, “Then turn it down?” “I don’t know how!” “Turn the hob dial down dummy!” Ollie went silent for a second, “Did you say hob dial?” Alarm bells started ringing in your head, “Why would I adjust the hob when I’m using the toaster.” You froze for a moment before pulling your phone away from your ear and putting it on speaker, unable to believe what you were hearing, “I’m sorry, what did you just say?” Charles gave you a concerned look, sitting even closer to you and wrapping one arm around you while the other rubbed your knee comfortingly

“I said, I’m using the toaster.” You stared at your phone, mouth slightly agape, “You’re making french toast in the toaster?” “Correct.” Charles snorted and choked back a huge guffaw of laughter as the hand he’d placed on your knee came up to cover his mouth, his face turning pink with how hard he was laughing, “Ollie! French toast isn’t made in the toaster!” “It’s called french toast!” You pressed the video button and changed the call to facetime. Your brother stared back at you, looking rather dishevelled, “That’s a rather deceiving name if you ask me!” You groaned, facepalming, “You make it in a frying pan” Charles was no help next to you as he wheezed silently, grabbing his own phone to record the conversation for later use and hilarity. “Well how was I supposed to know that?!” Ollie was indignant as he pleaded with you through the screen, “OLLIE! You’ve watched me make it hundreds of times!” He pouted through the screen letting out a little ‘hmmph’ “Well if you hadn’t abandoned me, we wouldn’t have this issue would we!” You rolled your eyes, “For the last time, I did not abandon you! I live a 10 minute walk away!”

You sighed before laughing at your brother lovingly, “Alright then silly, head over for lunch and I’ll show you how to make french toast the proper way.” Charles snorted once more and you both burst into giggles as your brother scowled at you, “Stop laughing at me!” Ollie whined, you caught your breath and wiped your eyes, heart warm at the silly moment you knew would turn into a fond memory, “Uhhhh Y/N?” You looked back at the screen to where Ollie was turning the camera round to show you a sparking, smoking toaster, “I don’t think it should be doing that…” You cursed as Charles scrambled out of bed, pulling mismatching socks on as you grabbed a hoodie, “Change of plans Ols, we’re on our way!”

♯ incident 3 - Gerald ⊹.∿ Things were peaceful for a couple of days after the french toast debacle - something you were more than thankful for, wrapped up in your perfect little bubble with Charles. Of course you continued to text Ollie, but there had been no major crisis that required your immediate attention. Until there was.

It had been one of those long lazy days spent at home, until Charles had announced he was taking you to dinner and told you to get all dressed up. You’d slipped on one of his favourite numbers and he’d shown his appreciation more than once, sliding his hands round your hips and squeezing while you waited to be seated, pulling your chair out for you to sit down and sliding his hands down your arms once you were seated, moving his chair round the table to sit closer to you so he could place a slow smooch against your neck. You hummed happily as he fed you a mouthful of his dish, “I knew you’d like it!” You smiled at him, “I like most things you suggest…” He bit his lip as his eyes darkened slightly, “Is that so?” You nodded, eyelashes fluttering as your lids close, “What if I suggested something a little… more intimate?” You giggled, picking up your wine glass to take a sip and hide your face, too shy to keep the eye contact, “I wouldn’t mi-” Your phone blaring cut you off and you gasped, rushing to put your glass down as other customers in the restaurant glared at you, Charles chuckling quietly next to you, his hand resting on your thigh and rubbing soothingly.

“Ollie I swear to go-” “He’s dead.” You heard your little brother sniffle and adrenaline kicked in, “Ollie, who’s dead?” You kept your voice as calm and quiet as possible, you heard him sniffle once more before a sob left his mouth. That was all you needed to hear before you were grabbing your clutch and nodding towards the door. Charles tilted his head and you mouthed your brother’s name. He nodded understandingly and rushed to pay the bill before you were both scurrying back to his car. As soon as you were buckled in you put your phone on speaker, “Ollie… Honey… what happened?” Charles also looked panicked as he heard Ollie’s choked sob, “He was fine and then he just… wasn’t.” “Who Ollie, who’s not fine?” You pleaded, “Ge-” You cursed as the call cut out, “It’s okay ma belle, his phone probably just died, we’re almost there okay?” You nodded, hands nervously twisting and wringing together in your lap. Charles eyes darted to your hands for a second before looking back at the road, one hand leaving the steering wheel to gently hold your hand in his. You looked at him and squeezed, a wordless thank you.

As soon as Charles pulled up, you were racing out of the car, slipping your heels off and carrying them in your hand as you sprinted barefoot up the stairs of the apartment building. You reached the door and rang the bell, knocked, called his name, anything you could think of to attract his attention. The door opened slowly and it wasn’t Ollie that appeared but Arthuer Leclerc, looking ever so sombre, “Arthur?” Your eyes were panicked as you looked him over for any injuries or obvious isses. He simply held his hand out to indicate to you to enter and you slowly stepped through the door, “Where’s Ollie?” Arthur nodded, head down towards the ground and the panic rose in your chest again, “He’s in the living room, saying his goodbyes.” “Goodbyes to who?” You paced down the hallway and burst into the living room, your jaw dropping at the sight you saw.

Ollie stood in front of the coffee table that was lit with candles, dressed in a suit and your brain suddenly registered that Arthur had been dressed the same way. You were even more concerned when you saw Arthur’s girlfriend fully dressed in black, standing next to Ollie with a comforting hand on his shoulder. You approached him slowly, arms opening and your expression softening as he turned to you with a red splotchy nose and red-rimmed eyes, he fell into your arms and you patted his back, gently shushing him, “What happened, Ols?” “He’s gone.” Ollie croaked out, “Who’s gone honey?” Your voice was gentle as you stroked his hair, the same way you did when he was younger and couldn’t sleep, “Gerald.” “Oh.” You said softly, “Was he a friend?” Ollie nodded and you held back a wince as he rubbed his snotty nose onto your shoulder, knowing he needed you, “He was such a good friend.” You led him over to the couch and sat down, his head falling onto your shoulder as you continued to play with his hair.

You were aware of Charles appearing in the doorway and you gave him a brief smile, before turning your attention back to Ollie, “Would I know this friend?” Ollie nodded, his sobs quieting to sniffles, “You were his friend before I was.” Your stomach dropped as you frantically thought of who Ollie could possibly be referring to, feeling guilty that your mind was blank, “The funeral was lovely.” Arthur’s girlfriend nodded solemnly, a hand over her heart as the other hand came up to dab her eyes with a tissue, “The funeral has already happened?” You were confused as Arthur nodded, “Just before you got here.” Your eyes shot to Charles who was just as concerned and confused as you, “Wait, the funeral was here?” Ollie scoffed, “Well where else would it have been?” “Wait Ollie,” You held his face in front of yours, “Why was the funeral in your apartment?” “He wanted to be remembered in the place he was most happy…” Ollie sighed wistfully, his head turning to look at the coffee table once more.

You squinted, focusing on a shape amidst the flickering candles and once more your mouth gaped as you stood up and stormed over to the other side of the room. “Ollie. Bearman.” You gritted your teeth, “Don’t tell me that this was all about a fucking cactus?” “Succulent!” Ollie snapped at you, wiping away a tear from under his eye, “He was a succulent,” He whispered as he looked down at the floor. Charles broke first, snorting in the doorway and you watched as he did his best to choke down his laughter, coughing and shaking his head, you watched as he excused himself from the room for a moment to force a solemn expression back onto his face. He returned but you could see the laughter threatening to bubble over as he took in the sight before him. Ollie, his younger brother and his younger brother’s girlfriend all dressed in black and in mourning for a succulent that sat sadly on the coffee table and looked like it had been watered a little too much.

“I’m glad you got here,” Arthur spoke up suddenly, “Oh goodie, do tell me why.” Your tone was sarcastic. “We’re about to do the funeral exit.” Charles was holding in his laughter so much that he now had tears streaming down his face and Arthur patted his back with a ‘there, there’ and handed him a tissue. “Arthur’s girlfriend has agreed to sing the exit song and we’re so thankful she has.” “Who is we Ollie?” You brow furrowed as you looked around the living room, “I-I…” You sighed. “Go ahead.” You all stood still, heads to the floor as Arthur’s girlfriend launched into a rendition of ‘Memory’ from Cats, “Miiiiiiidniiiiiight, not a sound from the paaaaavemeeeent.” Charles quietly crossed the room to stand next to you, nudging you gently with his shoulder, “Interesting date night hmm?” You growled, “Don’t you dare encourage him.” Ollie approached you, “Do you want to say your final goodbyes?” “Ollie, why would I care about a succulent?” He gasped, “It’s Gerald!” “Yes Ollie so you said, but why would I care that it’s name is Gerald?” Ollie shook his head, “Don’t even recognise your own friend…” Arthur tutted and even his girlfriend gave you a disapproving look as she continued wailing in the background, you mentally made a note to apologise to the neighbours the next time you were here during normal sociable hours.

You rolled your eyes at your younger brother and stepped forward to ‘pay your respects’ to the succulent. Your eyes narrowed, “Oliver. James. Bearman. That’s MY fucking succulent!” “It was nice of you to wear black.” He continued, nodding towards your dress and Charles blazer and pants, ignoring your exclamation. “We were on a date!” You screeched, Charles once again powerless to help in any way, instead just collapsing with laughter. You growled as you lunged for your brother, “Ollie, I swear there will be a funeral tonight.” You hissed, “Yours!”

♯ incident 4 - spiderman ⊹.∿ After everyone had said their goodbyes to Gerald, he had been unceremoniously dumped into the rubbish bin and that had been the end of it. Ollie had promised to buy you a new succulent and had learned that they did not, in fact, require watering every day, and you now forever had ‘Memory’ stuck in your head. Once more, peace had been restored but you doubted it would last much longer.

Your theory was proved correct when a few days later, your phone rang. An unknown number. You ignored it at first, all too aware of strange reporters and crazy fans who would do anything to get closer to Charles. You simply went back to reading your book, until your phone rang again. It was an unknown number still and you grumbled, rolling your eyes and answering quite snappily, “Yes? Hello?” The voice on the other end of the line seemed almost taken aback, “Umm excuse me is this Y/N Bearman?” You sighed, “Yes it is, no I won’t give you a quote and yes Charles is great in bed, goodbye!-” “No wait please! I’m from downstairs! You live in 10B yes?” You stopped as your finger hovered over the end call button and brought the phone back up to your ear, “Uhhhh I used to, yes, can I ask why?” “Oh, well there’s a man trying to climb onto your balcony and I was concerned that’s all.” Your stomach flipped, your mind rushing to thoughts of someone breaking in when your little brother was home alone, “I’ll come over now! My younger brother still lives there.” You raced to grab your keys and jumped into your car, deciding to get there as soon as possible rather than walk. Who was stupid enough to break in in broad daylight? You briefly considered calling the police but you were sure the idiot would be gone by the time you got there. Your car pulled up and you craned your neck to look up at the balcony of your old apartment. Your eyes widened and you gasped as you spotted that there was indeed a man hanging off of your balcony, “Holy shit,” You mumbled, scrabbling to open the door and race towards the apartment complex. The closer you got you squinted as you realised the hoodie looked ever so familiar. “Ollie?!” You yelled up and shrieked as your brother looked down at you, giggling nervously as his feet kicked back and forth as he desperately searched for a footing, “What the fuck are you doing?” “Uhhh I can explain!” He yelled back to you, “H-hold on, I’m on my way up!” You hurried up the stairs, once more cursing the lack of elevator as you finally reached your floor, unlocking the door and rushing through the apartment to french doors out onto the balcony.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” You screeched, leaning over the balcony and diving to grab him and pull him up, “Ollie that’s so fucking dangerous!” “Look!” You heard a kid shout from the street below, “It’s Spiderman!” You scoffed and rolled your eyes, "He wishes!" You paused for a moment to yell back, before resuming hauling your brother over the apartment balcony. “How did you even get up here? Why are you up here?” Ollie chuckled, panting slightly as he finally threw one leg over the ledge, “Funny story actually…” You raised an eyebrow, “Well please share,” “I forgot my key…” “I-” In your shock you almost let go of him and his scream attracted the attention of yet more passers by below, laughing and pointing at the odd sight they were witnessing. You smiled down awkwardly before turning back to Ollie once more, “Why didn’t you call me?” Ollie whined as you began to tell him off, “Because I didn’t want you to find out…” “Oh so this was a better idea- Ah!” You squeaked as Ollie tumbled over the ledge and onto the balcony. Landing on your stomach in a tangle of limbs, “Your foot is up my butt!” “Yeah well it wouldn’t be if you hadn’t been being stupid! Anyway, get your elbow out of my eye!” “Oh I’m sorry, I was making sure I wasn’t about to fall to my death!” You shoved Ollie off of you and led there on your back, panting, Ollie much the same,

“For the record, you are the shittiest spiderman there is.” “Thanks, that’s really boosting my confidence.” “Glad I could help.”

♯ the resolution ⊹.∿ “We need more protection.” You announced loudly, stepping into the kitchen “Excuse me?!” Charles choked on his protein shake, cheeks turning pink and you heard Max snort on the phone, “God, no! You pervs… I meant like, we need protection from Ollie and his dumbass incidents.” Max cackled, “Charles has sent me the videos, I was dying at the dishwasher incident.” You groaned, crossing the room to stand next to Charles who sat at the breakfast bar. He grinned as you rolled your eyes at Max who you could now see was on facetime. “Yeah, well I’m turning grey way sooner than I should!” You joked. You chatted with Max a little longer before Charles signed off with the promise of joining him to game later.

You sighed, leaning against Charles’ side, “What’s wrong ma belle?” You took another breath and paused, “I’m just… worried about Ollie…” Charles put his arm around you and rubbed your back soothingly, “What has you so worried mon amour?” His expression was warm and you knew he wasn’t angry with you, rather genuinely curious, “I just feel like… maybe he isn’t ready to live on his own yet?” Charles nodded at you and you took that as a signal to continue, “I mean, he’s always had me there to help him and I know someday he’s gonna have to get used to me not being there but I just feel like right now…” You trailed off with a sigh, “He still needs you.” Charles finished and you gave him a grateful smile and nodded. “But, I don’t wanna leave you. I love living with you and having you around and I love just... living life with you. Am I selfish for not wanting to give that up?” You bit your lip, moving away from Charles to pace the kitchen floor. Charles shook his head with a fond smile,

“Ma belle… You’re not selfish for wanting to do something for yourself and I’m proud of you for wanting to pursue that, especially since it’s me you want,” he slid his arms around you as you stepped next to him and dragged you backwards to him, making you giggle, “but I also know that you want to be there for family and I can understand that, you guys are close, the same way that me and Thur are, probably even closer.” You hummed, leaning back against him, “Thank you for being so understanding.” You sighed, “Now I just need to work out how to fix it…” Charles smiled and turned you round in his arms, nudging your nose with his, “Well… we have a spare room?”

Which is how you found yourself hauling boxes upstairs a week later, “Jesus Ollie, what the hell is in here?” You wheezed out and Ollie simply smiled at you, patting you on the head as he walked past you, arms empty, “You’re so dramatic Y/N, it’s literally just a few bits.” You poked your tongue out at him as he mimicked your words from just a couple of months ago. “Is that it mate?” Charles head appeared from behind the apartment door and Ollie nodded, as you finally conquered the stairs and planted the box down on the hallway floor. “Now let’s go over the rules one more time Ols.” He sighed, “Fine…” “Rule one?” You crossed your arms and raised an eyebrow, “No dish soap in the dishwasher…” He grumbled, Charles chuckled, “Rule two?” “No cooking without supervision.” Ollie recited as you nodded, “Don’t worry, that rule applies to Charles too.” “Huh?!” “Shush baby, rule three?” You turned back to Ollie, “No watering the succulents unless instructed, no matter how sorry I feel for them.” You nodded, “I am not having a repeat of Gerald and the… funeral.” You shuddered, as Charles snorted before asking, “Rule four?” “Always call one of you two if I forget my keys…” “And?” You raised an eyebrow, “No climbing balconies under any circumstances.” You clapped your hands together and smiled, “Good! Well I can’t think of anything else, can you?”

You turned to Charles who shook his head and Ollie who just shrugged, “In that case, let’s go! Pizza for dinner sound good?” The three of you walked into the apartment and the door to the hallway swung shut, your arguments about pizza toppings muffled through the door, but the happiness and love you felt for each other not dulled in the slightest.

#mimi.writes #bear hugs series ˚ʚ🧸ɞ˚#f1 fic #f1 series #f1 fluff #f1 crack #ollie bearman x reader #ollie bearman x you #ollie bearman fluff #ollie bearman fic #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc imagine #f1 oneshot #f1 fanfic

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hypewinter · 7 months

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The clone was dying. The others didn't realize this but Danny did. After all the dealings with clones he's had over the years, namely his own, how could he not recognize the signs?

Danny had first discovered the clone a month back when he was so tired, he tripped through the floor at Cadmus. That's how he had found a whole other base under the lab. Danny could kick himself for all the secret experiments going on under his nose. Some of which, he soon discovered, were even using his own research. Research that was meant to help grow new organs for dying patients. Now it was being put towards a process he never wanted to deal with again, cloning. In this case, specifically a Superman clone.

When Danny first saw the clone designation "Superboy" asleep in his pod, the first emotion he felt was overwhelming sorrow. Sorrow for the countless clones that had no doubt died before this one. Sorrow that he hadn't done his due diligence to make sure Cadmus was completely above board. And sorrow for Superboy, who would not doubt be used as a pawn at best.

Which is why when Danny realized he was destabilizing, he almost wanted to let him. A death the child wasn't even aware of would most likely be better than a life of suffering. But Danny couldn't bring himself to standby and watch this boy die. For one, if Ellie ever found out, he'd probably face his final death. But mainly, if there was a chance, a chance that the kid could have a good life, filled with loved ones, he had to take it.

So Danny did the one thing he thought he would never do, he gave his own blood. He had made sure to keep his DNA away from others for obvious reasons but he had no other choice. He knew the ectoplasm inside him would be enough to stabilize the clone or more accurately to say he hoped it would be. So each day, after everyone had left the lab, he would sneak in and transfer some of his own blood to Superboy. All the while he would talk to him. He'd tell him about his day, about his friends. He'd tell him how excited Ellie would be to find out about him and the hopes he had for the boy's future. Danny wasn't even sure that Superboy could hear him but it didn't matter, he talked to him anyway.

Finally the day came when the clone was fully stabilized. Danny felt overwhelming relief and joy in that moment but there was still one thing left to take care of. He had to get the clone out of here. He wouldn't risk the boy being used as a weapon. He couldn't. Danny had planned to come back for him the next day, after he had finished destroying all of his research, but he never got the chance. When he came back the next day, the building was destroyed, and the clone was gone.

#dp x dc #dc x dp #dpxdc #dcxdp #winter's tales #this takes place in the yj tv show universe btw

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clipartdinosaur · 2 months

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Griddlehark Fics

I have read an absolutely insane amount of Griddlehark fanfics in the past few months so I figured I could make a like...list of all of my favorites that I bookmarked. I'm not sure if anyone will use this but if anything it will be for my own self-indulgence LOL. Just a heads up, this list WILL contain spoilers up to Nona the Ninth, so proceed with your own discretion. Anyway here we go!

(♥︎ = favorite!)

Short (<15k):

"By the Sword" by JeanLuciferGohard (2.6k)

The Reverend Daughter of the Ninth, Necrosaint, Ascended, the greatest bone adept in an Age, does one push-up, and collapses. Harrow does not beg for her cavalier. Harrow rakes her hair back and snarls, “Nav, I am going to unzip your cranial sutures. One by one. And zip them up again sideways.”

"Your Necro Questions Answered" by Magichorse (8.8k)

Syndicated columnist "Nav the Cav" offers a sympathetic ear to cavaliers across the galaxy and dispenses practical, no-nonsense, real talk advice on how to properly manage and care for your necromancer.

"A Lesson in Bones" by Magichorse (3.8k)

One of the laboratory trials at Canaan House compels Harrowhark to swap bodies with her cavalier. What will Gideon do with the power of the most talented bone adept in generations at her disposal? Nothing good, probably.

"Visions of Gideon" by tothewillofthepeople (13k)

Oh my god they were roommates...

"true love's kiss, or something equally nauseating" by corpsesoldier (4.6k)

She was where she needed to be. She was going to pull her necro out of this godforsaken tomb, end the game of musical bodies they were playing, and then everything would be all right. Harrow would be alive. And Gideon was going to give her shit for approximately the next myriad for not just taking what she’d offered and saving them a whole lot of trouble.

"The Big Warm Dark" by decalexas (haelstorm) (2.7k)

Gideon Nav knows how to swing a longsword, brandish a rapier, bridge the gap between life and death, punch the dead in the face, and maybe overthrow an Empire along the way. What she doesn't know how to do is reach for the girl who made all of this possible.

"carrion comfort, despair (not feast on thee)" by NotAFicWriter (5k)

Some time after Alecto wakes, Harrow and Gideon finally have a moment to speak to one another. Hearts are bared. Teeth are bared. Intentions are bared. It all comes at great personal cost (emotional honesty).

"never exhale all the way" by pigflight (1.2k)

Harrowhark paints Gideon's face.

"such an almighty sound" by CountingNothings (10k)♥︎

“I need you to marry me,” Harrow says, a propos of absolutely nothing that Gideon can see. And, uh, okay, this is not what childhood best frenemies say to each other upon discovering that both of their graduate programs have weird residence requirements. “What,” Gideon asks, “the fuck?”

"A Handsomely Dangerous Thing" by zoicite (1.5k)

Had Harrow ever looked at Gideon and felt pride before? Surely not. It sat like a tumor in her chest, a cancerous lump that had grown where it did not belong.

"How it didn't happen" by Nary (1.5k)

"How did you lose it?" Coronabeth asked, more softly than her sister's shrill voice. The group assembled at Canaan House barely knew her, and yet here they were, asking the most irritatingly personal questions, and acting as if they were being kind and thoughtful by prying into her secrets. "I dropped my pen into a vat of acid and reached in to grab it without thinking," Harrow said dryly. Coronabeth recoiled, screwing up her pretty nose. Ianthe looked unsure whether to believe her or not. Their meatslab of cavalier just stared blankly. "The Daughter of the Ninth House was blessed in this manner from her birth, as a symbol of her strength and power over the mysteries of necromancy," Ortus interjected. Harrow glared at him. "Oh," Coronabeth said, an expression of disgusting sympathy on her flawless face. "But then you would never have known who your soulmate was!" Harrow's glare intensified. "My soulmate is bones."

"Halcyon Nights" by Morike91 (10k)

It was hard to tell what was worse: feeling the full warmth of those unguarded honey eyes fall on Harrow, or watching them narrow in recognition and contempt, their warmth now hotter with something else. “What can I get you?” It has been at least four years since Harrow last heard the voice of Gideon Nav, but it was still as familiar as her right hand.

"I completely fucking hate you" by ClaraZorEl (7.5k)

In the coming weeks, Harrowhark learns an unfortunate great deal about Gideon Nav. The kind of porn she likes, the number of bread rolls she can fit into her mouth at once, that she always leans too heavily on her left leg when she fights but can do fifty-seven push-ups in a row without stopping, that her biceps rates 11/10 on the scale of good biceps, that her laugh rumbles like an army of skeletons, and most importantly, that she can’t fucking stand her. Gideon Nav is so grating that Harrow has no doubt she will be her undoing. OR Harrowhark Nonagesimus has been invited to Canaan University's ball. But to successfully represent her house, she needs a cavalier, and unfortunately, her only option is her least favourite barista from her least favourite coffee shop.

"A Thousand Teeth, Yours Among Them" by pipistrelle (7k)

"In the end, she poisoned Ortus; so it was Harrow Nova who walked out to the shuttle a half-step behind the Daughter of the Ninth, the chain of Samael Novenary wound about her offhand wrist, the black blade of the Ninth at her side."

"The Only Prayer We Know" by pipistrelle (12k) [Part 2 of "A Thousand Teeth, Yours Among Them"]

It's like a bad joke: two cavaliers (alive) and two necromancers (one dead) walk into a rebel faction of humanity, looking for a new life -- in every sense of the phrase. What they find is each other, and (in some cases) themselves.

"The Flames of Hell Are Warm" by silverapples (7k)

In which Harrow is a repressed evangelical Christian and Gideon performs burlesque in a lesbian nightclub. Feat. nipple pasties, chewing gum, and a steaming mug of gay coffee (wake up and smell it, Harrow).

"Necro Business" by rnanqo (1.6k) ♥︎

“Gideon,” you said carefully, “I will need to examine your mouth. Various structures, primarily the jaw, but also the lingual muscles—the tongue—” You stopped there. Your cheeks were going red, probably with indignity. “Yeah,” I said, a bit too loudly, “yeah, sure. Do it.”

"Holy Cross, Alaska" by softieghost (10k) ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

Harrow meets Gideon. They go through it together.

"my love will be your armor" by TheKnightsWhoSayBook (2.3k)

"The princess has a right to bestow her favor on whoever she wishes to win a match," Gideon tells her. "Are you going to?" "Why would I? I don't want to marry him," Harrow answers bitterly. "Do you want me to win?" Princess Harrow will be engaged to the winner of the tournament, and her only champion is her useless bodyguard Sir Gideon Nav, who isn't going to save her. Unless...?

"The Meaning Of The Word" by pipistrelle (8.4k)

Harrow, along with a good percentage of Canaan University's necromancy students, has the flu. Gideon has a lot of feelings that she is in no way equipped to handle. It's a tough week.

"(i shine only with the light you gave me)" by sashawire (1.7k) ♥︎

God prods, gently, “Even just starting with their physical description, and we can go from there.” “Imagine,” you say, from somewhere outside your body, “the worst shade of orange you’ve ever seen in your life.” * Harrowhark receives her saintly title.

"i will learn to love the shears" by corpsesoldier (4.7k)

The avulsion trial left Harrow's hair in a sorry state and Gideon offers up her expertise with a blade. Or, Gideon gives Harrow a haircut.

"The Titty Texts: A Work of a Stupendous Titty Nature" by EleniaTrexer (3k)

Gideon accidentally sends Harrow boobs. And then just keeps on sending them.

"can we start over?" by breeeliss (10k)

Gideon needs a tutor. Harrow needs someone to get her out of college gym class. All in all, a pretty straightforward arrangement to make with your ex.

"Dark Mode Enabled" by senseoftheday (12k)

Tech Company AU in which a certain Sales bro with no filter decides to ruin Harrow's life (and feature roadmap) by initiating the cross-functional project from hell. At least, Gideon has the decency to work remotely, and Harrow's new office crush makes some pretty great coffee.

"deconsecrated graves" by emotionsandphenomena (4k)

Gideon and Harrow got out of the cult they were raised in. Okay, what's next?

"settle up in heaven" by liesmyth (3k) ♥︎

“Isn’t this arrogance, Harrow?” Kiriona says. “Think you could fix what God couldn’t?”

"Quoth the Maiden" by Sarsaparilla (10.9k)

The bold outlaws Nova Hawk and Gideon meet for the first time on a narrow log-bridge. But is it really their first meeting? Or: what if Robin Hood and Little John were both lesbians?

"twice in a blue moon" by sinshine (8.7k) ♥︎

Gideon snapped out of her depressing reverie and blinked at her. "That's a really good idea." "Obviously," said Harrow, and it was only a little bit condescending. "Step one, sneak out of the party. Step two, acquire the necessary items at a store. Step three–" Harrow gestured vaguely at the deer in Gideon's hands– "And step four, profit." [G&H rush to fix a smashed snow globe that Dulcinea made so that Cam doesn't kill them before the clock strikes midnight at their NYE party. The fact that Gideon is back in her hometown after a long time away and she and Harrow have unresolved romantic tension is secondary and definitely won't be a problem.]

"It Came From Planet Slut" by LockedTombMemes (8k)

Well. Evidently going undercover to an Idan society fling in order to deliver a message to a high-profile BoE agent was a tits-out kind of look.

"Apostate's Yuletide" by sinshine (12.6k)♥︎

Gideon raised one eyebrow comically high. She smiled easily, erasing any hint of the anxiety that Harrow might have sensed. "What's with all the questions today?" Harrow huffed indignantly and fidgeted with the blanket draped across her lap, worrying the frayed hem with her fingers. "I thought your ego would appreciate the interest." "Yeah, but it's weird coming from you. I'm used to you monologuing, not playing twenty questions." "Perhaps it's a Christmas miracle," suggested Harrow, with an expression so absolutely devoid of joy that Gideon couldn't help but laugh. [Harrow and Gideon burn down a church on Xmas.]

"when it's over" by Adertily (2.5k)

Harrowhark had sworn to herself to live to see the girl in the locked tomb awaken. Alecto has risen. Now God is dead, along with everyone who had ever been dear to her - and Gideon has returned as a distorted creature. The war is over. Harrow wishes she could be too. Or: A character study based on Harrow's suicidal ideation and Gideon's determination to never run anywhere unless she absolutely has to.

"Supernova Bloom!" by sinshine (13k)

"It's just for a week, and then you never have to see me again," said Gideon. "I don't have time to find anyone else." And, "Please." Slowly, Harrow took her hand off the door and cautiously turned around. Gideon watched a dozen unspoken questions flicker across her face. She voiced none of them, but eventually settled on an expression of grim resignation. "I suppose I could suffer you for a week." [Gideon needs help getting her new flower shop ready for the grand opening. Harrow needs cash.]

"I still need your teeth around my organs" by sinshine (7.8k)

Although she was a beloved Daughter and a talented necromancer, Gideon's greatest vice was that she dearly loved to fuck around and find out. Knowing this, perhaps it shouldn't have been as shocking when she lifted one of Nova's hands, flipped it over, and kissed her palm. [4 times Gideon kisses Harrow, 1 time Harrow kisses Gideon]

"cuckoo, cuckoo" by sashawire (1.2k)

What Wake gives it is not a name. To do so would be a moronic, unnecessary cruelty. But she does deign to give it the microscopic dignity of a title, a goal, a purpose. Bomb. Eighteen years later, in the rubble of a once-sacred home, Harrowhark Nonagesimus reaches up and touches Gideon Nav’s grit-covered, blood-rimed face, splits a laugh like the world is ending, and calls her “flower.” * Six times God's unwanted daughter was nicknamed, and once she wasn't.

"my teeth will only cut your lips, my dear" by sashawire (<1k) ♥︎

Gideon chomps into her tongue as hard as she can convince herself, stifling a very dignified squawk. Her eyes water, Emperor’s left tit that fucking hurts, but—it works. Blood weeps from the bite marks, creeping down the back of her throat, up into her nasal cavity, staining her teeth. Okay. She has blood in her mouth. Blood that, somehow, needs to get into Harrow’s mouth. * Step #6: Consume the flesh.

"fifteen percent concentrated power of will" by surreptitiously (9k)

Teaching someone to do a push-up is a love language, when that person is very annoying.

"GHAZAL WHERE I'M BEGGING YOU TO TOUCH ME" by igneousbitch (12k)

You had your body and I had mine, and it was a miracle. Your hands against my face were a miracle. The rest of your meat attached to your hands was a prayer answered and a promise broken, but we were flush and gasping and alive, and Harrow—I really thought you might’ve kissed me then. But I felt it happen. The way your breath suddenly stilled, and your body locked up beneath mine, remembering. How with splintering gentleness, you pushed me away. “I’m so sorry,” was the second thing you said upon waking. The first thing had been my name. Stranded in a safehouse on an Edenite moon, Gideon and Harrow try to put themselves back together.

"catch you on the flip side, sugar lips" by corpsesoldier (4.9k)

Maybe if Harrow's brain runs enough scenarios, she'll find a way to keep what she's lost.

"hand to heart, I swear" by corpsesoldier (5k)

Gideon has a broken heart, and there's only one necromancer who can fix it.

Medium (15-30k)

"If you're doing it right you'll break their ribs" by almostnectarine (22.4k)

"How do you know Nonagesimus has gone somewhere dangerous?" asked Isaac. "Have you wired some kind of alert system?" "It's, uh. It's on the schedule," said Gideon. "I just... forgot. Because of the bread." Nobody was convinced by this, least of all Gideon. "It's a Ninth House thing," Gideon went on, backing away with increasing desperation. This was a slightly more plausible explanation, if only because nobody wanted to look too closely at what fell under the awful skeletal-ribbed and rotting umbrella of Ninth House things. "Gotta go—!" And she was out the door, gone. But it wasn't a Ninth House thing, except inasmuch as it was happening to the only two representatives of the noble and decrepit Ninth House on this quite literally godforsaken rock. Gideon knew Harrow had gone somewhere dangerous—knew that Harrow was back in the lab where they had only just completed a horrible trial—because she could see it, clear as day: an awful overlay on her vision of that terrible dangerous room and a pair of terrible dangerous hands drawing some kind of ward next to the plinth. The hands were definitely Harrow's. This was definitely a problem.

"If Home Is Where the Heart Is (Then We're All Just Fucked)" by JeanLuciferGohard (17k) ♥︎

When Gideon Nav gets a call that her ex-girlfriend, who never bothered to change her designated emergency contact, is in the hospital, she goes against her better judgement and responds. Everything after that just gets more complicated.

"blue gray green lavender" by smolranger (29k) ♥︎

Laser Radial sailor Gideon Nav just wants pass her classes, win a few regattas, and keep her head down. FJ sailor Harrowhark Nonagesimus has grand plans to qualify for the Olympics, preserve her parent's legacy, and save her home town. Despite the ties binding them together, the two have kept their college lives carefully separate for two years. But when Harrow's helm, Ortus, suffers a concussion mid-way through the fall season, their carefully separated lives collide. Harrow needs someone capable of taking Ortus' place for the remainder of the season or her Olympic dreams — and Canaan College's entire sail team — are in peril. And Gideon is her only option.

"Daughters of Hungry Ghosts" by zoicite (24k)

Harrow and Gideon and times they have (and also have not) shared a bed over the years.

"Disney World, Florida" by softieghost (24.6k) [Part 2 of "Holy Cross, Alaska"]

After the events of Alaska, Harrow thanks Gideon the only way she knows how: devotion. -- Chapter 3: The journey concludes. More confessions.

"we've got a good thing goin' " by sinshine (14.6k) ♥︎

“Not to sound ungrateful, but being here makes me wish that you had left me for dead,” said Harrow. Gideon had been staring hard at the face of the fountain’s statue. She was pretty sure that it was carved in the likeness of Naberius himself, but she didn’t want to say it out loud and make it true. She shook her head and turned to Harrow. “Leaving me to live out eternity in your bony sock puppet of a body? Hard pass.” Palamedes and Camilla shared a look. It was the mutual understanding of two people who had been trapped in close quarters with the bickering of Gideon Nav and Harrowhark Nonagesimus for far too long. [Team 69 hide out in Babs's vacation home. Because it's not like he's using it anyway.]

"Cake by the Ocean" by zoicite (15k)♥︎

Okay, so the thing was, Gideon had always been shit at plans. She knew that. Everyone knew that, but this--she really didn’t think it would be this hard! Gideon’s voice was like the least memorable thing about her. Bargaining her voice for a well-shaped set of human legs--that really should have worked in her favor.

"careful fear and (un)dead devotion" by sinshine (23k)

[Gideon and Harrow wake up back in their own bodies but both of them are missing large parts of their memory. Camilla tries not to kill everyone.]

"who ya gonna call?" by igneousbitch (24k)

“Fret not, honeybun.” Gideon shook her red hair out of her eyes, belligerent. “I’m not totally sold on your whole skepticism thing.” “Well,” Harrow said, ignoring the nickname. She turned to the rest of the room, clearing her throat politely before addressing the empty air. “Ghosts, if you’re real, give us a sign. Make a noise. Move something. Send a shiver down our backs. Whisper softly into Nav’s left ear—” “I seriously fucking hate you.” - (Casual sex and paranormal investigation. Not necessarily in that order.) (or: the Buzzfeed Unsolved AU in which Gideon is ready to fight a ghost, and Harrow just wants to be haunted.)

Long(>30k):

"Beneath a Blue and Foreign Sky" by zoicite (35k)

Harrow has a decision to make.

"A Heart Full Of Sutures" by Rohad (40k)

All Gideon wanted was to get outside and ride her motorcycle. No part of that plan had included eight weeks in Canaan Medical Center with a broken Pelvis and the meanest little doctor this side of the eastern seabord.

"Midnight at the Mithraeum" by zoicite (66k) ♥︎

It'd been two years since Gideon Nav gathered her wine key and her gaming license and escaped The Locked Tomb, a speakeasy-style cocktail bar managed by the hateful Harrowhark Nonagesimus. Now, dealing tables at The Mithraeum Hotel & Casino, things were really looking up. So when Gideon scored a date with the most beautiful showgirl in the Gilded Halls of Ida, the last thing she expected was to wake up married to her old nemesis and former coworker. The story starts the night of Gideon's date and alternates between the events leading up to the wedding and the weeks that follow as Gideon tries to navigate life married to someone who claims to want nothing more than to forget she exists.

"Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea" by pipistrelle (90k)

Being the journal of Reverend Daughter Harrowhark Nonagesimus, chronicling the journey of the Emperor's warship Cenotaph on its hunt to slay an immortal Resurrection Beast. Or: the Moby Dick crossover AU that nobody asked for.

"The Darkest Night, The Brightest Light" by eternaleponine (50k)

Harrowhark has known for a long time that her home's financial situation is dire, and not getting better. She has plans to fix it all, but can't implement them until she turns eighteen in a few months. When her parents announce that the best (perhaps only) way to save Drearburh is to marry off its heir, Harrow realizes the timeline has changed and she needs to take action now to save her home... and herself. Desperate times call for desperate measures, after all. Enter Gideon Nav. Detested foe, and Harrow's only hope.

"putting your fist through a thick sheet of glass (i know you don't want to)" by oretsev (46k)

Harrowhark Nonagesimus and Gideon Nav have always been at each other’s throats, and the animosity has only intensified since the death of Harrow’s parents. But when a car accident leaves Gideon without any memories of her past, Harrow sees a chance at the clean slate she’s wanted for years. Becoming involved in Gideon’s recovery assuages some of the guilt, but as she and Gideon become closer and increasingly involved in each other's lives, Harrow worries that some of her secrets may be more than she can atone for.

Ongoing:

"semi-charmed kinda life" by strangedelight (182k+) ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

Gideon asked questions. Harrow surprised her with answers. They reached an agreement; they decided to be smart, to be patient. Gideon made a promise, Harrow gave her one in return. Wait and see. OR the year is 1994, and Gideon and Harrow leave their small town for life in the city. OR team 69 roommates au only this time it's the 90s

"Intern the Sixth" by apocalypticTaco (33k+)

ADDRESSING THE HEIR TO THE NINTH HOUSE, OR PRESUMED EQUIVALENT: PALAMEDES SEXTUS, HEIR TO THE SIXTH HOUSE, PRESENTS HIS COMPLIMENTS TO THE NINTH AND REQUESTS A FORMAL ARRANGEMENT WHEREIN HIS MASTER WARDEN AND CAVALIER APPRENTICESHIP UNDER THE NINTH FOR FOUR YEARS IN EXCHANGE FOR THE SIXTH’S SERVICES. *Details to be discussed. Please turn to back page. Timeframe variable. Services and agreements variable upon the Ninth's request. An internship of this caliber is highly unprecedented and likely unheard of, but any information valuable to the Ninth and into the Tomb will remain undisclosed upon request; Primary experience and study is required as the Master Warden has already decided upon such being his final thesis prior to his end studies. No takebacks, no denials. Pleased to meet you. Palamedes Sextus, Heir to the Sixth and Master Warden and Camilla the Sixth, Cavalier Primary and Warden's Hand of the Library

TO THE MASTER WARDEN: FORMALLY REJECTED.

"What's Eating Gideon Nav?" by labyrinthineRetribution (40k+)

After a miserable fifteen years at Blessed Saint Anastasia's School for Girls, Gideon's luck finally changes.

"We Have Always Lived in the Apartment" by labyrinthineRetribution (171k+)

John looks up from his Jack and Coke in drunken curiosity. "What's with the face, Harrowhark?" he asks, genuinely concerned. "Contrary to popular belief," Gideon butts in, "her face just fuckin' looks like that, bitch." She tends to use "bitch" as liberally as commas when off her ass. "You're piss drunk," you shoot back. "And you, my good bitch, are just as contemptible as the day you clawed your way up from Hell." - It is Harrowhark Nonagesimus' birthday, and it only gets worse from there.

PWP (basically):

"I'll hold in these hands all that remains" by corvidlesbian (6.5k) ♥︎

“Do you want me to try?” Gideon said. “What?” “You got all hot and bothered without me trying. Do you want me to try?” Their newfound habit of cuddling gets interesting.

"sting of a wasp" by brightbolt, imperfectlyctor (42k) ♥︎

"You’re a virgin,” Gideon said, testing it out. "Huh." Harrow didn’t like the sound of that huh. She knew Gideon’s noises, and that was a thoughtful, sinister huh. That was the same huh she’d made before putting canned tuna in Crux’s work boots. Her eyes narrowed. “What.” Gideon cocked her head to the side. “Is there a reason you’re waiting?” There was no judgement in the question— only genuine curiosity. Perhaps it was this that made Harrow more inclined to answer. “I don’t have the time to look for someone new,” She shrugged. “And my available pool is… somewhat limited.” “Well,” Gideon said, with just a hint of conspiracy in those glittering golden eyes. “If you ever want to change that, you have my number.” What? What? Harrow blinked. “What?” Or: the five times Gideon and Harrow successfully bone, and the one time they don't.

"Suckle, Honey" by zoicite (7.9k)

“You crave my juice,” Gideon accused. “I do not crave your juice.” “Fuck, you do though. You went off to explore that study alone, without your cavalier, using a key that I nearly gave my life for, and then you snorted some powder that made you crave my juice! Harrow. I never would have let you sniff powder from a ten thousand year old jar.” This was untrue--Gideon probably wouldn’t have noticed Harrow breathing in a puff of jar powder until it was too late--but it sounded like something Camilla Hect might say, so Gideon went with it anyway. Camilla definitely would have stopped Palamedes from accidentally sniffing old as fuck Eighth House jarred juice addiction powder.

"Five Times We Hatefucked and One Time We Didn't" by rnanqo (8k)

“Fuck you,” you said. “Fuck me yourself, you coward.” You ran a hand through my hair, fisted it, and pulled my head up. From here I had a spectacular view of your weird blown-out seething expression, like I was the worst thing you’d ever seen. Also a view up your blood-crusted nostrils. Choice. “Maybe I will, Griddle,” you said. “Maybe I will stop fucking you over and start fucking you." Gideon and Harrow realize, abruptly, that their hatefucking is no longer hatefucking.

"a call to motion" by groundedsaucer (coasterchild) (10k) ♥︎

Harrow and Gideon watch a porno.

"put her canine teeth in the side of my neck" by stranded_star (8.8k)

Harrowhark Nonagesimus is getting a PhD and a divorce. Against her better judgment, she goes out to the bar to celebrate and meets an incorrigible, absolutely ripped salt-and-paprika butch who takes her home and gives it to her good. To her horror, it's the best night of her life, and she sneaks home with her tail between her legs. Harrow has more important things to worry about - like raising her daughter and building the next stages of her career. But when her daughter's favorite teacher, someone named Griddle, turns about to be the Gideon she met at the bar, she's forced to contend with allowing herself (and her daughter) to find the happy ending she never thought they'd have. Featuring MILF!Harrow, Teacher!Gideon, and a very amused Camilla Hect.

"The Wound That Swallows" by seelieunseelie (7.8k)

Harrow can make out an uncomfortable amount of detail about Gideon’s body beneath. Powerful, strong as ever, yet somehow vulnerable for its supplication below Harrow’s. “Are we gonna get this over with?” Gideon says in a voice softly scratchy. She blushes then when Harrow sits on the edge of the bed. “It will hurt,” Harrow says. “Yeah,” Gideon says. “I think I can handle it.”

#holy shit this is way longer than i thought it would be #uhm i literally gave myself a headache i sat here for like 3 hours doing this #that being said if you have any fic recs lmk LOL #griddlehark #gideon the ninth #harrow the ninth #nona the ninth #the locked tomb #tlt #tlt fic #tlt fanfiction #griddlehark fanfic #rec #long post

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jinuaei · 28 days

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Alastor x Fallen Angel! Reader

Accidentally getting 'married' to Alastor

Part 2

You fucked up.

You don't know what you did but you know you fucked up somewhere. One moment you were in heaven doing something, the next you see a red sky in front of you. The feeling of air rush behind you as you finally realize that you were falling, the smell of something burning and rotten eggs surrounding you as you fall deeper and deeper to your demise. Or what you thought was your demise, what you instead fell onto was a roof that momentarily broke your fall, before face planting to the ground. That wasn't graceful of you.

Groaning in pain you try to sit up before a sharp burning sensation spreads through your back, at where your wings was supposed to be. The sound of dripping enters your ears and your vision is blurry when you try to open your eyes, you can only see blobs of colours and the most prominent one was red as well as... Gold. Pupils dilating, your eyes finally take in the view in front of you. White feathers fall around you as golden blood seeps into your white clothes, the pain, you realise came from your wings, getting ripped apart and burning off when you fell. You try to decipher where you're currently at, from what you see, you seem to be in an alleyway, behind you is a dumpster covered in your blood and feathers, following the trail of blood you see the roof you hit when you were falling.

You hypothesize where you're supposed to be, with how adamant Heaven is in teaching angels not to do any sins nor question the higher ups, its kind of impossible not to know what will happen to those who defy heaven as well as where they will go. A pentagram encompassing the whole red sky, the scent of sulfur, blood, and brimstone flooding your senses, with this in mind you now know where you are.

"I'm in hell..."

"Yes you are, my good fellow!"

Startled, you scream and cover your head in hopes of protecting it.

"Well that's quite rude! You're not supposed to scream bloody murder when someones trying to be friendly you know?," his voice was odd, staticy, akin to an old radio.

You sheepishly drop your hands down to your lap and look up at the man in front of you. He's quite the tall demon, dressed in red... well actually everything about him is red, save for the black accents in his outfit and ends of his hair. Speaking of hair you keep glancing up at the tufts of hair attached to his head, and if you look closely, the antlers hidden behind his fluffy bangs. Is he supposed to be a deer? That's actually really cute.

"Erm... Sorry, just I was just surprised someone popping out from nowhere," you reply, hands fidgeting with one of your broken feathers.

Eyeing the golden blood and the broken wings behind you, the demon grins, showing off his sharp yellowed teeth. Nevermind that's TERRIFYING.

"Now what's an angel doing in hell? Not to mention a bleeding one! How tempting," he licks his teeth, already thinking about how delicious your angel meat would be.

Something tells me that this demon is NOT here to help. Now think! Make something up so you wont get killed by this red deer thing!

"I'm your spouse assigned by heaven!," you blurt out, not even thinking properly due to the fear of death.

Both of you froze as you stare at each other, one with horror, and one with disgust.

"And why do you think I would believe that?," sneering, he starts to creep closer and closer.

"Because... That's the reason why I fell! How can I meet my husband if I'm in heaven and you're in hell? I was so eager to meet you that I turned myself into a fallen angel just to be with you!," you smile widely, desperately trying to convince him.

He raises an eyebrow at that, mulling over whether you're telling the truth or not. Even if you are lying it'll be good to have a fallen angel on his side, and it'll be quite hilarious seeing the expressions of the hotel staff reacting to you being his spouse.

"If I am your fated one, what's my name? Surely heaven must have given you my name at least?"

Oh Gabriel's trumpet he got you there. "Alastor...?," unsure, you gave out a random name. If you're wrong, hopefully he kills you quickly.

...

"Hm. Perhaps you truly are who you say you are. Forgive me for being quite rude earlier, it's unbecoming from your husband to be." Holy cow you are lucky. You breathe out, the nerves simmering.

"Come on then let's get you cleaned up! What kind of husband will I be if I don't provide for you my dear?," he grabs your hand and leads you somewhere. His shadow cleaning up all the blood and feathers in the alley.

Now that's out of the way... What the fuck did I do to become a fallen angel???

#alastor x reader #alastor x you #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #maybeeeee soon to be yandere alastor?

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natalievoncatte · 14 days

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Lena squared herself up after she stepped from the elevator.

This has taken considerable work. She’d had to arrange for her absence from boarding school to go unnoticed, or at least, unremarked upon. If Lillian got wind of her running away, she’d have been skinned alive. Perhaps literally. Since her adoptive father’s death, she’d actually looked forward to school, and to being away from Lillian’s abuse. Lex was now the only thing keeping her from Lena, and Lex was preoccupied with his project.

Her brother had been away for school for some time, but they had summers off together at least. When Lex took over the company when he turned 21, he grew distant and aloof, spending more time with his friend Clark or at work than with family.

With his absence came Lillian.

Still, she had managed to build a support network. Frank, her bodyguard-slash-driver was Lex’s man, but he was useful. Lena had spent months buttering him up to participate in her plan: she needed wheels.

In the meantime she’d acquired blackmail material. The head master at the school gave her a broad latitude after she implied that she might expose certain proclivities of his. That gave her the time away she needed. She’d carefully negotiated a higher allowance from Lex in exchange for accelerating her studies in anticipation of beginning her undergraduate studies at sixteen, which was a triviality for her anyway.

Lena walked down the hall, heart pounding against the backpack clutched to her chest. Each step felt heavy, alive with portent.

She could turn back now. She could turn her back now.

What if she was wrong? Paranoid, addled, as crazy as her mother, just like Lillian said? What if she was about to not only blow up her whole life, but slander her brother. If this went sideways, she didn’t know what exactly would happened to her, but Lillian had once, while tipsy on whisky from Lionel’s stash, told Lena that if not for Lex, she’d have Lena garroted with piano wire and buried on the estate, and like any bag of trash, no one would notice she’d been disposed of.

When she told Lex, her hands shook like leaves. He looked at her for a long cold moment and she worried that he’d slap her or scream or throw her out of the house, but he simply said, “I’ll talk to her about it.”

He did. She never made another threat.

He also brought her a wooden box, ornate and polished. Lex sat next to Lena and opened the box, showing her the contents, lying on red velvet. A five shot snub nose revolver and two speedloaders.

“I’ll teach you how to use this,” Lex said, grimly. “I know you’re smart enough to know if you need to. If anyone tries to harm you, kill them. I’ll clean it up.”

Lena had been terrified of it for months, even as she enjoyed the shooting lessons from Lex, given in a remote part of the estate near a burbling creek, the shots cracking the morning peace and shaking dew from leaves.

She had the gun in her backpack, and her hands were shaking.

The other contents of her bag were a weapon far more devastating. She was about to fire it and she’d have to accept the consequences.

Finally, she stood outside the door. Apartment 18B. The name on the lease was Lois Lane, but according to Lena’s reconnaissance, Clark Kent had been living with her virtually full time for the last six months, not long after something changed in his relationship with Lena’s brother.

Lena’s hand hung before the door for a good minute before she knocked, weekly. She hadn’t considered what might happen if they were simply not home. Her legs felt watery and her eyes burned. She knocked again. She was committed now.

The door swung open and Lois Lane stood before her. She was beautiful in an understated way, obscured by limp hair in a chaotic bun, rumpled clothes, and the stink of coffee on her breath.

“Who- what? Kid, what do you want?”

“I need to see Clark Kent. Is he here?”

“Who’s asking?”

“Lena Luthor.”

There was a gust of wind behind her, and Kent stepped into view.

“Lena?” said Clark. “Lex’s little sister? What are you doing here?”

Lena’s throat went tight. She swallowed hard, and as she anticipated, his demeanor changed. He softened. He craned forward slightly, studying her intently, and his brows shot up when looked at her bag.

He was checking her vital signs and he’d spotted the gun. In the bag.

“He knows you’re Superman,” Lena choked out, “and he’s going to kill you.”

Lois glanced at Clark with a stunned, stunned wide expression. Then, she grabbed Lena and yanked her inside, slamming the door. Lena squeaked.

“How do you know that? Lex knows? Did he tell you? What do you mean he wants to kill Clark?”

“Hey,” Clark said, crouching beside Lena to bring himself to her level, resting a comforting hand on her slight shoulder. “Take a breath, Lena. You’re safe here.”

In Lena’s plan, she was going to begin explaining, starting with how she deduced his identity and lay out what she discovered in his files. That was her plan, but no plan survived first contact with the enemy.

Lena began to sob.

Superman knelt beside her and removed his glasses, and enveloped Lena Luthor in a warm, protective hug. She sobbed harder, burying her face in his shoulder.

“Jesus Christ,” Lois whispered.

She drew the gun out of the bag and checked it with professional, practiced familiarity, dumping the shells into her hand.

“I think she’s telling the truth.”

Clark nodded.

Over the next hour, Lena was swept to Lois’s big couch and sat in the middle while the pair sat on either side of her. When she was hungry, Clark went out to get her favorite guilty pleasure meal, a big greasy burger and fries, and a milkshake too. Between bites, she explained everything, telling them about her brother’s insane plan to turn the sun red.

They believed it all. Lena had receipts.

Eventually, Lena was exhausted, everything had been said, and she sat with dull shock on the couch and stared at the black mirror of a blank television set, marveling at how small and helpless she looked, like a drowned rat.

“Why don’t you lay down for a while?” Lois said, gently. “Here, I’ll put something on the TV for you.”

Lena didn’t make it ten minutes in before she was asleep, curled tightly on one end of the couch with a pillow under her head.

She woke sometime later. It was dark now and she heard voices on the far side of the apartment.

“I called Bruce. He said he’s in, and he’s bringing reinforcements. I’m going to try to get a Green Lantern on board. We have to move fast. Nevermind me, if Lex does this, millions of innocent people will die. We’ll have to move fast.”

“What about the girl?” said Lois. “She can’t go home now. We have to get her somewhere safe.”

“I have to get you both somewhere safe. I should probably come up with a reason to get the building evacuated. One Lex realizes he’s been caught out, he’ll come after both of you.”

“You’re right.”

“I want you to go out,” said Clark. “Make it look like you’re heading out to a convenience store. Bruce is sending Alfred to pick you up, he should be here in an hour. I have somewhere else in mind for Lena.”

“Where?”

“It’s better if I don’t tell you, just in case.”

When he emerged from the back bedroom, Clark Kent was resplendent, clothed in the persona of Superman.

“Lena?” he said, gently. “We have to go. I’ll take you somewhere safe, where your brother won’t find you.”

Lois joined him. “You’re going to put on some of my clothes, and I’m going to check your hair. You can’t take anything with you. Lex Luthor might have been tracking you the entire time.”

Lena’s stomach dropped. What if she was right? That might be a move Lex would play, tracking Lena so that he could use her against his enemy. Lex had become cold, single minded. Lena was wondering how long it would be until she was disposable.

“Okay,” said Lena.

“I’m going to have to fly you.”

Lena did as she was told. She put on an outfit that belonged to Lois, a hilariously oversized Gotham U sweatshirt and leggings. When it was time, Superman bundled her up in his cape.

“I’m scared of heights.”

“I would never drop you,” he said.

Lena screamed when he took off. She was glad for the cape, glad she couldn’t see the ground. She curled up around him and pressed her eyes tightly closed, wondering exactly how fast they were going.

The landing came surprisingly fast. He’d alighted on the grassy lawn of a lovely beach house. Lena smelled something baking and heard voices inside. Clark knocked on the door.

A girl, a little older than Lena, opened the door. Golden curls spilled over her muscular shoulders, and she wore an oversized pair of glasses that did nothing to dull the endless depths of her blue eyes. There was something profoundly sad behind the curiosity in those eyes. She looked at Lena with mild confusion.

Lena stared back. There was a wild stirring in her stomach, and she shifted uneasily on her feet.

Then, the girl addressed Clark in a rapid, clipped, and utterly strange sounding language.

It hit Lena like a shockwave.

They were speaking Kryptonian.

“Lena,” said Superman, turning to her. “This is Kara Zor-El, my cousin. The last daughter of Krypton.”

#supercorp #supergirl fanfiction #supergirl #supercorp fanfic #lena luthor #kara danvers #kara x lena #karlena #supergirl fanfic #ficlet #runaway Lena #my headcanon is that Kara is older #teen supercorp romance #Lillian Luthor is a rancid bitch #teen Lena was adorkable #Kara has jock tendencies but is only jock adjacent #You can have a little butch Kara as a treat

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covetyou · 4 months

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when we begin again

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: dub-con (reader was paying a debt, less so now), oral (f receiving), fingering, masturbation, thigh slaps (three small ones), small description of a hand injury, cumplay/cumshot/cum marking, praise kink, maybe Joel has a bit of a pain kink idk, possessive slutty Joel, derogatory names ("whore"), drug reference, unspecified age gap word count: 4.1k summary: He wasn't one to lick his wounds, but after a deal gone wrong Joel finds something he'd much rather put his mouth on.

A/N: and here we be, the first of the SWAT oneshots that serves as a sort of bridge between the main series and the few ideas I have brewing and ready to go. This is a whole re-write in less than 24 hours because the original fic I was almost finished with felt too me and not enough SWAT. no one needs sad girl monologuing about life and death and grief with their porn. you're welcome.

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"Hrrrmph!"

Joel's lips crash into yours the moment you step inside. One moment he's running an anxious hand through his graying hair, and the next he's making quick work of the space between you, striding across the floor to grab you and plant his lips firmly on yours.

It's not what you'd come here for, funnily enough. You wanted to talk and, glorious as it was to have your lips against his, you couldn't talk like this.

Wretching yourself away is stupid. After everything you know it's stupid, yet you do it anyway.

"Joel -"

Cupping your head in his hands his lips find yours again before you can get another word out, teeth knocking together as he licks into your mouth, and you briefly lose yourself, turning to putty in his arms, ready to sculpt into whatever he sees fit that day. Before the bonelessness takes hold completely, you pull back once more.

Searching his face you look for the sudden need, the sudden rush, the desire to kiss you and have your face in his hands that hadn't been there any other time until now. You see nothing, his dark eyes refusing to meet yours as his hands find themselves at the front of your pants, deftly unbuttoning them before you can even question him. Before he can unzip them, your hands find his, holding him gently in place.

Joel freezes, hands stilling on your zipper, and he pulls a small, sharp breath of air in through his nose as if you hurt him, wounded him by daring to slow him down.

"You want me to stop?" he growls.

"No, I just -"

"Then quit your complainin'."

You do. Briefly. Until the zip snags as he pulls on it again and he curses in frustration.

"Let me do it." Until last time, which wasn't really like any other time, he'd always asked you to strip yourself, made you strip in front of him before he touched out. His clumsy hands on your clothes felt alien, and as it was he was being too slow, even in his desperation.

"You not want me to touch you or somethin'?" he snaps, frowning down at your pants now as he fiddles with the zipper, trying to get it to budge.

"I never said that."

"Then quit your fuckin' complainin'."

And this time you really do when you finally see the tremble in his hands and the blood on his knuckles, and it occurs to you that maybe you did hurt him, that grabbing his hand to stop his frantic movement caused him pain.

Joel hadn't been in a rush before you got here. He'd been the opposite, pacing the floor, willing himself to slow down, calm down. And it had been working - each turn he could feel himself relaxing, all the pent up energy from a deal gone to absolute shit steadily leaving his bones. But your delicate knock on the door had sent his blood boiling in a different way. He'd fought with himself to ignore it, to tell you through the door to fuck off for another day, but the idea of something warm and wet and compliant to soothe his aches and pains was too enticing to pass up. Making you in particular moan and writhe and give in to him was even more impossible to let go. In the end, the door had practically let you in all on its own.

So when his hands pull at your zipper again, yanking it in frustration, you will it down, beg with your mind for it to not snag again, and you sigh with relief when it doesn't.

In one fluid movement your pants are unceremoniously pulled to your knees, and Joel is crowding you back against his dining table, rough and aching hands on your hips to guide you. Your exposed ass collides with the solid wood, and he's pressing into you, the hardening lump in the front of his jeans poking into the softness of your belly. You can feel the frustration in him and how it twitches through his fingertips, swells in his cock, and each time you feel how the need wins out over frustration as he grinds into you, latching him onto you as his veins hunt for some kind of relief.

Another yank of your jeans and he's pulled them to your ankles, stepping on them as he pushes you to sit on the table. Your jeans stay behind, dragging your shoes from your feet with a dull thud, and Joel kicks them away. Winters in Boston are bitter, none moreso than this one, and your frozen ass barely registers the feeling of the wooden surface as you sit on it, still kitted out in your hat, coat and gloves. When you move to pull them off his hand pushes between your breasts, knocking you back onto the table. A second later there's a harsh scrape of a chair across the floor and, just as you manage to tug one glove off, he's yanking you down the table toward him.

You sit up and look down where he sits between your legs, enraptured by the softness of your skin beneath hands that glide up and down your thighs, gripping and squeezing the soft flesh more gently than the wounds on his knuckles suggest he's capable of. He's holding off, you realize then as you watch his hands, trying to slow himself from taking what he needs.

Tossing your hat to the side you lift your hips, shimmying your panties down just enough for Joel's fingers to work them down the rest of the way. Sitting back in his chair he looks between your legs, and you know that he can see what you've been feeling since you stepped onto his street. By this point, the response was Pavlovian. Each step closer to Joel's apartment you could feel yourself getting wetter and wetter, your cheeks feeling hotter and hotter. You wonder if one day he'd stop having this affect on you, or if he'd stop responding to it exactly how you knew he would, but with a knowing quirk in his brow, you know that day is not today.

"Fuck me, sweetheart. You sure no one else been down here today?"

Shaking your head, you manage one more look at him before he's pulling your legs up, hooking them over his shoulders and diving into your slick folds with a firm lick.

"N-no," you gasp, bucking slightly into his face with your legs spread over his broad shoulders. He should know that you haven't, that you wouldn't, but you think he just needs to hear the confirmation, needs to know that this thing in front of him right now is just his for the taking, and so you let him have it. "Haven't even touched myself today."

He moans into your cunt, cold nose pressing into the softness of your mound as his tongue laps and laves you. With a slurp, having cleaned up the arousal that had leaked out of you on your way here, he looks up at you, ticking his head to the side and nodding down to your bare pussy. "Well, shit, looks like all o' this is just for me, huh?"

There's no air left in your lungs for you to respond when his tongue circles your clit and makes you groan into the cold air. Whatever he needs, if this is how he was going to take it, you were damn well going to let him take everything you had.

And so, pinning you to the table he begins to devour your cunt, licking messily all over you, coating you in his saliva. He pulls you open with his arms hooked over your thighs, spreading your lips further for him. The chill hits you for just one second when you're fully spread to the cold air, but his mouth soon descends on you and all you can see are his eyes and the curve of his nose, his mouth hidden as he buries it into you.

You shuffle your jacket off, the room suddenly feeling much warmer than when you first entered it, and earn yourself a small slap to your thigh, making you squeak out a yelp of surprise, when Joel's mouth involuntarily pulls from your cunt.

"You gonna keep still? Or you gonna keep fuckin' wrigglin'?"

You shift again, biting your cheek as you test him. Channelling his energy into eating your cunt is working wonders for him and he seems calmer already, but that doesn't stop him lightly slapping your thigh again, shooting a warning look up at you.

"Got a way to keep you still if you can't fuckin' do it by yourself, sweetheart," he warns and, as if sensing you're about to test him again, he unhooks one arm from you and pushes a finger straight into your wet heat.

You moan, gasping again when he sucks your clit for good measure.

"Huh?" He's coaxing you, trying to get you to wiggle again and earn yourself another surprise. Not one to push your luck you simply moan, letting your back arch slightly when he begins to move his finger inside you. "What was that?"

"Fu-nothing. Just - fuck - so good."

You mind is liquid, seeping out of your ears and making a mess of your jacket when he licks you again, dancing the tip of two fingers around your entrance before sliding both into you. If it hurts him, he doesn't let on, but you can tell it does something to him by the groan he makes into your cunt as his fingers curl in you, making your walls clamp and twitch around his fingers.

"That's it," he murmurs. "Like gettin' this pussy ate, don't you?"

"Mm."

"Thought so. Needy fuckin' pussy. Not just your mouth that wants to be kissed is it, she needs it too?"

"Oh god, yes please, she needs it too."

And you can feel it, the moment he switches from eating your cunt to kissing it. You know the shapes, the trails he kisses, the way his tongue dances. You'd committed it to memory the past week, made yourself come at the thought of his mouth, the scratch of his beard, the feel of him beneath your fingertips, touching him as much as he was touching you. His mouth and the memory work together then, bringing you so impossibly close to coming you can feel as your moans leave you more high pitched, how you push into him, chasing and chasing that feeling that's right there -

"See," he says, stopping your orgasm in it's tracks when he pulls back, a knowing smile on his face. He pushes another finger into you too, watching as your legs twitch open wider to take him, the rim of your pussy spreading across his fingers with slicked up ease. "Don't even gotta stuff your mouth, just gotta keep this thing right here stuffed and suddenly you're actin' all nice and polite."

There's a brief hope in you that he'll go for a fourth finger, stretch you out across his sore knuckles and ready you for his hard cock, but the hope fizzles away, cast to the side and forgotten, the second his mouth joins his hand back between your thighs.

You're almost there again already, the crest of the orgasm he stole from you a moment ago barely behind you. His tongue laps rhythmically, never ceasing, and his breaths come in heavy, fanning across your folds as he feasts on you, fingers pumping so deep you're sloshing around them. You're hot, so impossibly hot in spite of the cold. You want to shed more layers, bare yourself for him, but you're so close and he's getting you there fast, goading you on with each satisfied groan into your cunt.

"That's it," he mumbles into your twitching pussy. "Fuck that's it sweetheart, come on my fingers."

You can feel it build, Joel's mouth engulfing you and lapping at everything you have to give. The beginnings of your orgasm start to shudder through you, your legs stuttering with every flick of his tongue. Your back arches from the table, toes curling in thick socks as your heels press into his back, pushing him into you. And then it hits you.

The coil in your belly snaps, letting loose an orgasm that swamps all your senses. Held down by Joel's muscular arm and pinned by the fingers hooked in you, you buck into his mouth. Quivering thighs have clamped around his ears, attempting to draw up and pull back as you squirm in his firm grip. You're screaming too, you think, a breathy high pitched shout of his name that you just can't hold back, that gets shakier and shakier the longer it goes on.

And it does go on. Joel doesn't stop, determined to wring from you as much as he can. His fingers are locked inside of you, forced to stillness by the pulsing in your pussy. Still, he can flex them, curling his pruning fingertips into you while he tongues your clit, groaning with each twitch of it beneath his tongue. You know that sound, how it's gotten deeper and more desperate as he's devoured you. It's a sound that tells you he's hard, that he needs relief and will be desperate for it the second he pulls away from you. That thought only makes you come harder, and by the time your cunt has stopped its erratic pulsing around Joel's fingers and you've fallen limp, deaf, and winded against his table, he's already standing, pushing the chair back and letting it crash to the floor.

Dragging his fingers from you he pushes between your legs, pulling his jeans open as best he can, wincing when he rasps his knuckles on the fabric a little too harshly. You reach for him, wanting to help, wanting to be a relief for him like he is for you.

"Let me -"

But he knocks your hand away, tugging down his jeans a moment later, his cock springing free and knocking into your thigh before he can capture it in his fist. It's hot against you, burning and dripping, likely feeling as achey as his knuckles do.

You expect him to plunge into you immediately, to take advantage of the position between your thighs and your pussy still fluttering with want at the sight of him, but he doesn't. Instead you watch for a moment as he strokes himself, the bloody scrapes on his knuckles contrasting harshly with the smooth, solid plains of his cock.

"Your hand, Joel, I can -"

"Fuck, my hand," he growls, resting his unmarred hand on your though to hold you still.

Your legs fall open further, his touch light on your thigh barely applying any pressure to open you up for him. Still, he doesn't take the clear route in, and you're rocking forward trying to notch his tip on your entrance just as the rough scrape of his knuckles drags across your sensitive inner thigh.

"Please put it in me," you finally beg, needing to feel the deep stretch of his cock as it pierces you.

"Nuh-uh, sweetheart, you get what you're given and you be grateful. You gonna take it?"

"Yes," you say quickly, following on with a small, "Please."

He groans at your eagerness to please. Making a man like Joel desire you so much he can't help but moan, just with small words and gasps of your own, makes you feel a power you've never had before and your eyes just about roll back in your head.

"Use your hands, show me that hole," he demands, giving you a little space to reach down and spread yourself for him. Your pussy is leaking, still, you can feel the slick spread on your fingers as you spread yourself for him. "That's it, hold yourself open. Fuck she's still twitchin'. Fuuuck. That's it."

His strokes become longer, more fluid, as he stares at your aching, empty cunt. You still want him inside, would do anything to get him there, but the desire in his eyes tells you he's getting exactly what he wants right now, and you almost want that more.

Tilting his head back as he strokes his cock with pussy drenched fingers, his bruised knuckles rub against your cunt with every stroke. Holding yourself open is easy, but keeping your legs from snapping shut each time his fist rubs your clit feels almost impossible. As if noticing, Joel pulls back, looking down where your cunt is spread open for it.

"That's it, keep it open. Good girl."

You know you're glistening for him, he'd eaten you so fiercely his saliva had been dripping from you, mixing with your own slick as you came on his tongue. He can see the evidence of it now, and the evidence of what his words do to you at the tell tale twitch of your cunt at his praise.

You can't take it any more and you beg in desperation again. "Please put it in, please."

It does nothing but earn you another soft slap to your thigh, which he rubs, grabbing the meat of you and squeezing in his large hand as his cock twitches and drips in his damaged one.

"No," he grunts, breath coming in more ragged now. "Want you to fuckin' wear me. Know who's pussy this is?"

"Yours."

"Fuck," he hisses. "Yeah it is. Pussy's mine, sweetheart. Mine."

Gripping your thigh tighter he moves in closer again, his hand bumping your sensitive nub as he jerks so closely you slick up his knuckles, soothing the soreness and jerking your clit in tandem.

"Oh fuck, that's it, sweetheart. Keep it just like that, show me that pussy. Show me," he's saying, over and over as he watches you.

A second later he's looking up, staring straight into your eyes and pinning you there on the table with them. You nod, words stuck in your throat when all you want to scream is for him to come, to cover you in it, to claim your pussy just like he needs, just like you want.

The sneer on his lips tells you he wants it too, and before you know it his tip is pressing firmly to your clit, jerking it with every frantic movement of his fist, his hips thrusting minutely into it like he can't control it, can't hold it back any more. And neither can you. The pressure and the movement on your clit is too much and you're coming again, so soon after the first it brings tears to your eyes.

"Ohhh, f-Joel, pleasecomeonme."

Looking down where he's pressed to you, he hisses a breath in through his teeth, holding it for just one second until it pushes out of him with a deep, shakey moan, cum exploding out of his tip and coating your folds, dripping through you until the last spurt coats your mound and he's left breathless.

You flop onto the table, grateful for the padding your coat offers your bones as you collapse into the wood. He's leaning over you, finally releasing his grip on your thigh and running a thumb across his mouth, cock still in his aching fist. Using the oversensitive tip, he smears the cum into your bare cunt and the insides of your thighs, catching your eyes just in time to watch them turn from glassy to rattling in your head, your mouth in a small O when he jerks your clit with his head, making you both gasp.

"You did say this pussy was mine," he says, letting a small wry smile tug at his cheeks. He pulls back then, letting go of his spent cock to run his fingers through your cum covered folds, scooping up a drop with his thumb.

Leaning leaning over you, he swipes his cum slicked thumb against your lips. You suck on it, tasting him, salty and bitter and sweet and Joel exploding on your tongue all at once. You want to thank him for it, but he pulls your mouth open with his thumb and pushes two fingers in, making you clean them with broad soothing strokes. You're careful not to catch him with your teeth, still aware of the wounds on his knuckles as you taste yourself off of his cum soaked fingers. If his hand looks like that, you wonder what the person on the receiving end looks like - the thought shouldn't make your cunt twitch, you know it shouldn't, that it's likely sick and twisted and wrong, but it does, and you moan around his fingers just has he pulls them from your mouth.

When your eyes flick to his lips, he smirks, knowing what you want without even asking. Cupping your face with his bruised, wet fingers, he makes you look at him, waits for the desperation in your eyes to ramp up to the point of frustration before he gives it to you.

Just a peck, that's all he gives, soft lips and the tickle of his facial hair so fleeting you could have blinked and missed it, before picking up the chair with a groan and settling back in it with a deep sigh, inspecting his wrinkled fingers. They'd spent so long buried in you the tips are starting to pucker, the ache that your warmth had soothed slowly crawling back down his knuckles.

Your mind is slowly pulling itself together, slowly crawling back into your ears and taking root in your skull again. Joel's eyes scan across you before finding something apparently considerably more interesting on the floor by his dining table.

"Where the fuck you shoppin' this late in the day?" he says with a frown, and you sit up, following his gaze to the floor.

Your pants are in a tangle, a sprawled mess on the floor with your shoes from where Joel had dragged them from your body and there, next to them in a messy pile, is a small stack of cards that you'd brought with you.

"Oh."

Right. You came here to talk to him, to renegotiate your arrangement, before Joel had needed more from you than a chat in that first moment through the door and pushed all thought of conversation from your mind. You clear your throat and square your shoulders, pushing away the last haze of orgasm and look back up at him. "I'm not. They're for you."

With a groan, he bends to pick them up, counting them as he stands and then raising them to you with a question on his lips.

"What're these for?"

"For the pills," you say, like it's obvious, like you hadn't been using your body as payment for months.

"I've already taken my payment," he says with a look to your cum coated cunt. "'n' if you wanna pay me for your daddies pills, you know it's more than this, right?"

"I can take 'em back if you don't want 'em. I just figured we can pay a bit now and, y'know... I wanna come here because I wanna come here, for me, not just for pills all the time." It sounded better when you rehearsed it in your head this morning, but coming out of your mouth now it sounds ridiculous.

He looks at you for a moment, taking you in, sat pantsless and dripping on his dining table.

"Y'know, there's a simpler solution to this than dumpin' cards on me without warnin', right?" If there is, you haven't thought of it. "Stop only comin' by when you need pills." Oh.

"If you want somethin' else, you know where I am. Now, if you don't wanna whore yourself for meds anymore, if you wanna be respectable, then that's fine. I'll take your cards. But I ain't takin' all of 'em. I'm keepin' these," he says raising a few cards up to you. "And you're takin' these," he pushes the remaining ones into your hand along with a small bag of pills he slips out of his pocket and you frown. You already weren't offering him enough.

"Now I get a nice respectable, good girl to fuck, and you get to pretend you're not a whore. Win-win."

"I'm not a whore," you insist, rolling your eyes, even though you know it's not exactly true.

Joel simply shrugs, shaking out your jeans and throwing them on the table next to you before placing his hand by your ass, thumb stroking delicately along the soft skin there, and leaning down toward you. He tilts your head up to face him, his nose catching yours as your eyes meet his.

"Whore or not, sweetheart," he smirks. "Pussy's still mine."

You weren't going to argue with him there.

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