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confused-pyramid · 1 month

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Breaking Point

pairing: art donaldson x fem!reader

summary: You and Art were hitting partners (and a bit more) in college, so when you run into him a decade later at the U.S. Open, old sparks reignite...

word count: 3.4k

warnings: SMUT, p in v, oral (fem!receiving), slight marking, drinking

a/n: I watched Challengers last night and then wrote this whole thing in one sitting. Nothing in this is really canon other than Art being a major simp lol so no spoilers for the movie! I usually make playlists (or at least find a few songs that get me in the zone) when writing, so I thought I'd start sharing them here too if people are interested!

You should've known he'd be here. You've been following his career for the last decade since you graduated, and ever since he won Wimbledon last year, he's been tennis royalty, but a small part of you still thought you wouldn't run into him here. At the fucking U.S. Open.

Stanford was a lifetime ago, and you haven't kept in touch with anyone from the college team, but there was always something about Art Donaldson that stuck with you. Ten years later, that hasn't changed.

"It's been so long," he calls out when he spots you from across the practice courts. "I didn't think I'd see you."

You didn't either, and you still haven't decided how you feel about it yet, but when he jogs over to your side, you just shrug. "Guess it's your lucky day."

He smiles, and his teeth glimmer in the bright sunlight. "It certainly is."

The loud thwacks of tennis balls hitting rackets echo around you, but you can't seem to focus on anything but the man standing in front of you. He looks good.

He was beautiful in college too, whether he was training across the net or slipping into your bed, but it feels different now, with so much time apart. He looks like a man now.

"Anyway," Art says, jerking you back to reality. "We should get a drink sometime. To catch up."

He adds the last part almost as an afterthought, but it doesn't escape your notice how his eyes have been trailing up and down your body since he walked over.

A drink could mean almost anything with Art Donaldson, but you're too curious to refuse. "Sure. This weekend, after the semi-finals."

He nods, his eyes glinting with amusement, and you grab your bag from the bench beside you before looping the strap over your shoulder.

You walk off the practice courts after one last glance over your shoulder, and you feel his eyes following along until the doors swing shut behind you.

***

He should've expected this. You were a firecracker in college, and you kept him on his toes every single day you were together, so he really should have known what he was getting into when he met you for drinks that weekend.

Instead, he's one too many beers in, and his buzz is only enhancing the glow of your beauty in the hazy bar light. Your dress isn't even that low cut, but something about the shadows glancing over your strong shoulders reminds him of late nights in the Stanford dorms after a hard practice when there was only one thing he wanted more than sleep.

"You played really well this morning," he says genuinely as he sets his beer back onto the table. "After that first set, Mueller didn't stand a chance."

You flash him a dazzling smile as you shrug, resting your chin on your palm. "I had her after the third game, but thanks. It was a quick match."

Art hasn't taken his eyes off of you since you sat down, and while prolonged eye contact usually makes you nervous, you find that you're actually enjoying the attention quite a bit. Attentiveness was never an issue with him, and you would normally give in to your urges, but there's just too much history with him, and you can't afford to lose focus. Not when the title is so close you can taste it.

"I hear the networks are eyeing you for a commentator post," you say, trying to change the subject.

You trace your finger around the rim of your nearly empty margarita, before lifting it to take a final sip, and you don't miss how his throat bobs as you lick the salt off your lips.

"Uh, yeah," he mumbles, clearing his throat. "It was just some chatter, but I'm not looking to retire anytime soon."

You frown. "Is that right?" He's playing better than ever, but he definitely hasn't been himself out on the court in years.

He glances down, clearly trying to avoid the scrutiny, and when his eyes land on your empty glass, he changes the subject again. "You want another drink?"

You shake your head, knowing that another will lead to a less than fun morning, but he isn't done yet.

"You sure?" His eyes find yours again, and this time the eye contact feels primal. "It doesn't have to be here."

Your eyebrows lift and you tilt your head with a knowing smile. "Where were you thinking?"

"I don't know," he shrugs, before his lips curve up into a cheeky grin. "My room's nice."

You saw it coming from a mile away, but it still pulls a laugh out of you. "Oh, I'm sure it is, but this isn't college anymore, Art. You should get some sleep...focus on your match in the morning."

You push your glass forward and stand up, nodding at him as you turn to leave, but then you see him stand too out of the corner of your eye.

"I'll walk you to your car."

He looks at you with a hint of amusement in his expression, and you can't help but want to play along, even though Art Donaldson was nothing but trouble for you.

You don't respond, instead just stepping out from around the table and walking out the front doors of the bar. You don't have to turn back to know he's right behind you, and when you reach your car, parked in the center of the nearly empty parking lot, you spin around.

He doesn't stop walking until he has you practically boxed in by your driver's side door, his face less than a foot from yours as he tucks his hands into his pockets.

He had pushed his sleeves back at some point in the night, from the humid summer heat of the bar, and you can see the veins on his forearms now, under the dim light of the street lamps.

"This is me," you say jokingly, tipping your chin at your car as he looks at you with an expression you can't distinguish. "I'm good from here."

He doesn't move.

It's not that you expected him to give up so easily; you had just forgotten how persistent he could be.

Art's mouth stretches into a slanted smile. "Do you remember the Davis Invitational? Junior year."

Speaking of his persistence...he had been pursuing you for months, not in any tangible way, but you always knew what he was thinking.

After the invitational, where you and Art had been the respective men's and women's champions, you had gone back to his dorm to celebrate. Three hours and just as many vodka shooters later, he had finally gotten you in his bed. Not that you were complaining.

Art knew his way around your body, and even that first night, he had managed to get you off more times than you can remember.

"What about it?" you shoot back, your eyebrows raising at the insinuation.

"Nothing," he says with a shrug, but you don't miss the humor glinting in his eyes. "You just used to be a lot more fun to celebrate with."

"Fuck you," you spit out, shoving his shoulder harder than you mean to. He barely budges, instead grabbing your hand and tugging you a few inches closer, and suddenly a wave of lust washes over you, making your breath hitch.

You press your thighs together under your dress, hoping he can't feel the heat spreading across your skin, but then his smile turns to a smirk and you know you're done for.

"What do you think?" he whispers, leaning in so close that his lips brush over your earlobe. "Want to celebrate?"

Molten lava pools in your gut and you are only peripherally aware of his hand sliding down your hips to the flowy edge of your dress. His fingers glide over your skin as his hand goes under the loose fabric, before rising up to grab your ass, drawing your hips flush with his.

Your arousal is already starting to soak through your panties, but the feeling of his hard bulge pressed up against you sends you flying back to reality.

You lift your hands to his chest and push him back so that he's a few steps away from you. It's not far enough, but at least you can't feel him from there. "I'm not fucking you, Art."

He shrugs, his smirk only slightly shaken. "Who said anything about fucking? I just wanted to talk."

You huff out a laugh. "You're funny. Besides, I'm too tired for this. I need to rest up before my match."

"What about tomorrow night then?" His lip is still curved up in a smirk, but there's an earnestness in his gaze that surprises you.

"What makes you think you'll still be here tomorrow?"

His mouth spreads into a wide smile. "I always win."

You snort. "Fine. Win your match and we can talk."

You don't miss the grin on his face as you climb into your car and leave.

***

You win your next match in straight sets again, so by the time you're out of the locker room, Art's match is still in play. Driven by a mixture of curiosity and intrigue, you head over to his court and find a seat halfway up the stands.

He has won two of three sets, and he's leading the fourth, so with the prospect of the match ending soon, you use the time to observe him from a different angle.

His form is much better than it was in college, and you've seen him play countless times on TV, but you haven't really let yourself see how good he looks out there. The sinewy muscles rippling in his arms as he lifts them to serve. The rugged sturdiness of his legs as he races back and forth across the court.

You wish you could be down there with him, running your hands over the smooth lines of his abdomen, tasting the drops of sweat as they roll down his body-

The crowd erupts in cheers, and you are thrust back into reality as Art throws his arms into the air with a loud whoop. The scoreboard confirms his victory, and you clap along with the audience as he shakes his opponent's hand and heads over to his chair.

People around you stand up to leave, but you stay in your seat, watching as he grabs his bag and stuffs his rackets inside. When he wipes a towel over his face, his head turns up and his eyes immediately go to you, like he knew you were here the whole time.

Your stomach does an involuntary flip and he flashes his eyebrows at you as you bit the inside of your lip, trying to hold back a smile.

When he ducks back down to grab his things, you stand up quickly to avoid letting him see your blush and follow the rest of the crowd off of the stands.

***

You hear it late that night. Three little raps on your hotel room door, just before midnight.

You're in the finals, and you don't have any friends here to celebrate with, so you were sipping a beer and watching old match recordings when you heard the knock.

There's no one else who would come to see you this late, so you're not surprised when you open the door to find Art, dressed in a tee shirt and comfy-looking pajama pants.

"What are you doing here?" you ask, even though you already know the answer.

Art just looks at you, his pupils already massive. "You said if I win, we could talk." He shrugs. "I won."

"Okay," you concede, opening the door wider to let him in. "Just talking then."

He nods, before following you inside and shutting the door.

"You want anything to drink?" you ask as he trails behind you.

He shakes his head. "I'm good."

You grab your beer bottle from the side table and sit down on the floor, crossing your legs beneath you.

Art sits across from you, his feet in front of him and his elbows on his knees. You were assigned to a modestly sized room, but for someone as tall as him, the space must feel cramped.

"How did the match feel?" you ask, taking a swig of beer.

He thinks for a moment. "It was close at first, but once I shook my legs out, it became a breeze."

"Your legs were never the problem," you say, leveling him with a serious look. "It was always your attitude. Or your confidence."

He frowns, his eyebrows scrunching slightly. "I'm plenty confident."

"You are now," you tell him as you swirl the bottle around in your hand. "You won Wimbledon, you have a reason to be confident."

That makes him smile. "So you're saying my legs are fine."

"Yeah," you say before you can process what you're saying. "You looked good out there."

His smile turns to a smirk so fast it nearly gives you whiplash. "You think I look good?"

You let out an exasperated scoff. "At tennis."

His grin doesn't falter so you roll your eyes at him before lifting the bottle to your lips to take another swig. When you tilt the bottle back down to swallow, his hand reaches forward to take it from you. Your grip on the beer doesn't loosen, so the motion sends you pitching forward.

Your mouth parts with a small yelp as his arm wraps around you, tugging you closer, and before you can process what's happening, his lips are on yours.

If you let yourself think too hard, you would realize that there is way too much shared history and way too much baggage here for this to be a good idea...so that's why you don't.

Instead, you let him pull your body flush against his and when his tongue slides over the seam of your lips, you grant him access immediately. Your shirts come off in quick succession and you gasp as his hands run up and down your body, his strong, calloused fingers grasping at every inch of purchase they can find. Yours reach up to tangle in his messy hair, and when his lips move down your neck, your grip tightens, making him moan quietly against your skin.

Something about being on the floor takes you back to your college days, when you'd both be so worked up after practice that you couldn't even make it to the bed, but that feels too real right now.

"Art," you whisper as he runs his lips and teeth over your neck, before replacing it with his tongue to soothe the quickly blossoming marks. "Art, the bed. Now."

It takes him a second to process your words, but when he does, he loops an arm around your waist and lifts you up and onto the bed in one motion, before pushing you back onto the covers.

By the time your head hits the bed, he's already pulling your shorts and panties down, exposing you to the cool air. His lips follow the path of his hands as they trace up your legs, making you squirm under the hot touch of his rough fingers. He presses wet kisses to the insides of your thighs before spreading them apart and dropping to his knees on the floor in front of you.

"So wet for me," he whispers, almost to himself, before he dives in, his mouth making lewd noises as he licks a thick stripe up your core. "You taste so good."

He lifts your legs over his shoulders to give himself some leverage as he makes a mess between your thighs, licking and sucking your clit into his mouth before fucking you with his tongue.

His grip on your thighs is the only thing keeping you pinned to the bed as you writhe beneath him, trying to not squeeze your legs together from the heat spreading up your core.

His mouth feels amazing and it takes only minutes before you're already nearing the edge. You don't want to come until he is inside of you, though, so you yank his hair, pulling him up and off of you.

He looks up at you through his lashes, and he looks ethereal with his disheveled hair and his chin wet with your slick.

You, on the other hand, look like heaven itself with your eyes half-hooded from pleasure, and he can't help the grin that crosses his face as he licks his lips and climbs over you onto the bed. He lets you taste yourself as he kisses you again, and he lets out a low groan when you bite his lip just hard enough to sting.

"Fuck me," you gasp, your voice too breathy to be actually authoritative. "Fuck me the way I like."

Art grins at your desperate tone and the wild lust in your eyes, committing this image to memory for a later time when you're much further away.

He kicks his pants off as he lifts you both further up the bed, and after covering himself with a condom from his back pocket, he lines himself up and slowly pushes forward.

He gives you a few moments to adjust to his size before slowly pulling out nearly all the way and then thrusting in again.

The slight pain turns to pleasure almost immediately, but he keeps his pace steady so as not to hurt you. You need more right now, so you wrap your legs around him for leverage and flip him over so that you're straddling him.

He groans as his head hits the pillow, and when he tries to sit up, you press your hands to his chest, pushing him down as you ride him. This position gives you a lot more control, and you use it to your advantage as you bounce yourself on his cock, feeling the way he fills you up so fully from this higher angle.

His fingers dig into your hips as he helps lift you up and down, and his eyes are practically feral as he watches the spot where his cock disappears inside of you.

He's the perfect size to fill you up completely, and with each swivel of your hips, you get closer and closer to your climax, which is approaching so fast you can taste it.

You cry out when he hits exactly the right spot deep inside of you, and his eyes fly to yours as your movements start to stutter from your impending release.

Needing to see the look on your face when you come, he pushes your lower back forward so you fall against his chest, before lifting himself up to meet you halfway. With one arm locked around you, he brings his other hand down between the two of you to rub quick circles over your clit. The new angle lets him thrust up into you, and the increased pace of his movements mixed with the speed of his fingers sends you flying over the edge.

Your mouth falls open with a loud cry, and you squeeze him so tightly he's practically seeing stars. You look so beautiful when you come, like a goddess sent down here just for him, and when your eyes meet his, he finds his own climax.

His body jerks forward with the force of his release, and you let him thrust a few more times as he finally finishes inside of you.

After pulling out, he tugs you down to lay next to him, and at first you let him, but the emotions warring inside of you don't stay quiet for long.

You know that whatever this was isn't going to go anywhere. You didn't work in college, and you won't work now, and you don't want anyone to get hurt again, so you have to make a choice. Now.

"I need to get some rest," you say quietly, a tiny part of you hoping he doesn't hear you. "Before the next match."

"Yeah," he sighs after a beat. "Me too."

You let him hold you for a moment longer, before he unwraps himself from your body and sits up, tugging his shirt and pants back on. You tug the sheet back and wrap it around your torso as he stands up and walks to the door.

You're not sure what you're expecting as he goes to leave, but what you get is a silent nod as the door swings shut behind him.

#art donaldson smut #art donaldson #challengers #challengers smut #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x fem!reader #challengers fanfiction #art donaldson x female reader #art donaldson x you

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starry-bi-sky · 6 months

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i've mentioned in a few past posts about an au where Danny is a variant of Jason Todd. I haven't made a post about it yet because I need a good rhythm flowing however i've been listening to Gladiator by Jann and I have been having thoughts.

but first, let me set the au:

Danny Fenton is Jason Todd, or at least, a variant of him. A him from a universe separate to the major Batman timeline - but still Jason Todd, down to the structure of his face and his name itself. The only thing that changes, is who picks him up - and, that he follows old Batman canon, and was an orphan. Jason Todd steals the tires off the batmobile and wallops Batman with his tirejack, and then runs off. Shortly after, he gets picked up by the Fentons.

(Customary line break,,,, word count check: 5k)

And his name changes from Jason Todd to Danny Fenton. He doesn't care much for the new name change, it stems from his mute refusal to share his name to the people that picked him up; an attempt to make him untraceable should he get away from them, and to keep something of his to himself. So they name him something new. He grows to like it enough as he acclimates to his new family.

(He hangs onto the name Jason Todd like a secret - he may be 'Danny Fenton' now, but he'll never forget his time on Gotham's streets. He'll always be Jason Todd.)

(Jazz is the only one who he tells his name to in the family - she affectionately calls him Jay whenever she wants.)

He becomes friends with Sam and Tucker and deals with Dash and his bullying. And when Danny steps in during a fight between Dash and another student, Dash gives him a bleeding nose and mockingly says, "Do you think you're Robin just because you're from Gotham, Fenton?"

Jason looks him in the eyes and he bares his teeth, "Why not?" he asks, spitting blood, "being Robin gives me magic."

The nickname sticks. It's supposed to be an insult; Daniel Fenton is not Robin, he'll never be Robin. Not now, not in a million years. Jason Todd has always wanted to be Robin, so he takes the insult and wears it proudly. He buys a school varsity jacket and painstakingly undos the stitching of all the school's motif on it. On the breast of it, he embroiders in a black circle with the Boy Wonder "R" on it instead. It's not good stitching, but the next day Danny wears it down to breakfast and into school.

In normal au canon, Daniel Jason Todd-Fenton (its a mouthful, just call him Danny) only meets the Waynes after he becomes Phantom - an event that leans more towards Daniel Fenton's accident than Jason Todd's death, but traumatizes him all the same. (Is it too much to want to be mourned? His best friends like to deny that he died - and Danny - Jason? - wishes they wouldn't, even if he did come back.)

(The accident embitters him, even more when his parents don't seem to pick up on it. He stops calling himself Danny Fenton - he's always been Jason Todd. It shows itself in his ghostly form. He doesn't want to wear the thing he died in, not in something that belongs to the Fentons, and his suit reflects that.)

In this timeline, Daniel Jason Todd-Fenton, aged 13, meets Dick Grayson and Bruce Wayne after a mishap with magic on the other end of the reality sends the three of them careening through time and space, and spat back out on the other end, in a world not their own. And together.

Danny is paired with a very confused Bruce Wayne and Richard Grayson. Luckily, there's a few heroes there to help them. Danny can hardly comprehend the idea that he's in another universe - he doesn't know why Dick Grayson and Bruce Wayne are seemingly handling it well.

On their way to a secondary base with the heroes, Danny turns to Bruce Wayne and asks, "So, is it part of rich-person training that you're just totally chill with being sent into another universe, or are you just weird?"

Bruce Wayne huffs at him, rather than get offended, and he smiles that dumb lopsided billionaire smile that Danny's seen on every vogue magazine he's been in. "I'm not so worried with these skilled heroes here to help us get home."

Danny silently concludes that he's just weird. At least Dick Grayson is biting back a smile behind him. "Riiiight..." He says, dragging the vowel out dryly.

When they get to that secondary location -- a safehouse that one of the heroes had set up -- the three of them are sat in a living room-like room while one hero, Zatanna, goes and calls someone from the Justice League. The other two heroes stay with the three of them.

Within a few hours, Danny is face to face with Batman - someone who he hasn't seen since he whacked him in the stomach with a tire iron - and Nightwing. For a moment, Danny swears that the both of them look almost spooked by him.

Batman stares at him for a moment when he enters, and then he goes to speak with Bruce Wayne. Danny doesn't care enough to hear what they're talking about, he pulls out his phone as Nightwing goes to speak with Dick Grayson.

"Are you a fan of Robin, little man?" Someone says, and when Danny looks up he locks eyes with Dick Grayson -- who is leaning around Nightwing to talk to him, the both of them are smiling. And considering who Nightwing was, Danny finds himself turning pink to the ears.

But he will not hide his jacket. He forces a grin through his embarrassment, "Hell yeah, man, Robin's cool." He says, and pushes his arms down to pull out the hem of his letterman, showing off the emblem. "I made it m'self out of a school varsity after the A-Listers started callin' me Robin."

"A-Listers?"

"Popular kids," Danny corrects, loosing his hold on the hem and brushing invisible wrinkles out of the embroidery. "They didn't like that I kept stepping in when they were bullying. Dash asked me if i thought I was Robin because I was from Gotham."

Dick Grayson looks intrigued -- and concerned, and he leans forward onto his knees and raises an eyebrow. "What did you say?"

And Danny grins a shark-like thing, straightening back his shoulders with a burning sort of smug pride and all the sharpness of broken glass left in Crime Alley. "I told him being Robin gave me magic, and then I punched him."

Dick Grayson's smile widens, splitting into showing teeth as he leans back into his seat. Danny isn't sure why he's so delighted - but Nightwing looks incredibly amused, and he suddenly remembers that the Robin himself was there in front of him.

Danny's face burns anew and his arms fold themselves in front of him once again.

"I don't think I ever caught your name, Robin." Dick Grayson goes, his voice thick with laughter, and Nightwing steps off to the side as Batman and Bruce Wayne walk over to join them both. They're just close enough that Danny can see Bruce Wayne raise an eyebrow at them both.

"It's Jason." Danny says before he can think about it, and barely stops himself from frowning at himself for the slip. He amends himself, glancing over at Batman and Bruce as they get closer. "But everyone calls me Danny."

Dick Grayson's head recoils slightly, and he looks a little surprised. "Why Danny?" He asks.

"Why Dick?" He shoots back, and Bruce and Dick both smile at him, with Dick Grayson shrugging with an expression that looks like 'you've got a point.'

In the end, the three of them - yes, three - get sent to this world's Wayne Manor, and Danny is bewildered by that decision to include himself -- he's not a Wayne. Why not just send him to the Fentons?

Batman tells him that the Fentons don't exist in this world, and Danny falls silent. "Oh." He says quietly, a pit growing in his stomach with an ill-kind of dread. He can't keep Batman's gaze, looking away with unease.

No Fentons in this world. No Fentons. Where was he then, in the grand scheme of things? Where was he in this world? What happened to Jason Todd? Was he even alive? He can't keep the worry off his face, and he jumps when a hand lands on his shoulder. When he looks up, Dick Grayson squeezes him gently.

Dick Grayson is steadily beginning to remind him of his sister.

They end up driving back in the Batmobile. It's such a shock to Danny that he momentarily forgets the lack of Fentons. He makes a laugh sound, actually, and immediately he covers his hand with his mouth and stares at the car -- tank? with his teeth sunk into his lower lip.

"Jason?" Dick says, and hearing his name being spoken feels like someone touched him with a livewire. It's weird, it's foreign - he hates, in some way, that it's foreign - and it's so nice. Yes, that's me.

He drops his hand immediately. "Sorry." He says, realizing he'd stopped in his tracks, "I -uh, was just surprised."

"It's not every day someone sees the Batmobile." Dick agrees. Nightwing has his back to them but Danny swears he sees his shoulders shaking a little.

"Yeah," Danny nods slowly, dragging his eyes over the batmobile as Batman opens the driver's side and gets in. He thinks for a moment, of what he should say next - whether to admit that he's seen it before, or to pretend that he's seeing it for the first time. Snd as Nightwing opens the door for him, Bruce, and Dick, he chooses the funnier option; "The last time I saw it, I was stealing its tires."

To his surprise and unsurprise, Danny only gets two pairs of eyes on him. Nightwing gets into the passenger seat as both Bruce and Dick turn their gaze onto him; Dick's eyes big like they were going to bulge out of his head.

"You what!?"

So Danny tells an amazed Dick Grayson that he hit Batman with a tire iron after he stole his tires - something he is very proud about and also incredibly embarrassed about when he retells what happened in the backseat of the batmobile, with Batman and Nightwing listening in from the front seat.

(Bruce Wayne doesn't ever tell Dick shit, he's going to lord this over Bruce's head the moment they are alone.)

"Please tell me this didn't happen in this world." Danny groans behind his palms as he sinks into his seat. Dick Grayson is killing himself laughing on his left, and he saw Bruce Wayne stifling a smile before he obscured his vision with his hands.

Much to his luck, its Batman himself who speaks next, (Danny was being mostly rhetorical). "It did." He says, and his voice sounds like the rumble of the earth before a stampede. It will never not throw Danny off every time he hears it. "It takes quite a lot of spunk to steal the tires off the batmobile."

He can't believe it. Batman is making fun of him. Fucking, Batman.

He wants to die with embarrassment. He groans even louder as Dick Grayson's laughter crescendoes. Danny risks a peak through his fingers, he doesn't know whether to regret it or not because he can just barely see Batman smirk very faintly from his position in the middle.

(His world axis tilts five degree leftways seeing it; like someone dunked a bucket of ice water on him.)

"He ended up being adopted by the Bruce Wayne of this world."

Danny's hands drop with his jaw into his lap. Dick Grayson on his left chokes on his laughter and careens into a coughing fit. Bruce Wayne on his right chokes on air, and quickly recovers himself with a cough behind a closed fist.

"What?" Danny croaks.

Apparently, Bruce Wayne's family is much larger in this world than it is in his. Danny can barely wrap his head around the idea that he ends up adopted by the man, but now he has to learn that Wayne had several children in this world?

He's still not wrapped his head around it when the three of them wind up at Wayne Manor, finally, or even when he's standing in front of him himself. For his effort, Bruce Wayne does a good job at looking unruffled by it.

God, he's weird. Danny's starting to quite like it, actually. How human of him.

He still can't wrap his head around it when he meets the rest of Bruce Wayne's children, all of whom are already aware of the three of them. Danny thinks that someone from the Justice League might've alerted them before they got here.

It makes sense, he supposes.

It helps that they are just as weirded out as he is. A boy named Tim Drake sees him for the first time and blurts out; "Oh wow, you're tiny." In a tone like he's just seen a two-headed snake burst out of the ground.

Danny is still offended. He's still growing. It's not his fault he spent twelve years of his life malnourished. "I'm gonna be taller than you," he tells him seriously, "and when I do I'm gonna kick your ass."

Tim snorts at him.

The other Bruce Wayne -- Mr. Wayne's -- youngest looks at him up and down with a face of carefully controlled judgement. His name is Damian, he's Bruce Wayne's only biological son. Danny can't believe that there's only one.

If anything, Bruce Wayne himself looks surprised too.

"Todd, yes?" Damian says, his green eyes narrowed at him.

Danny feels like the specimen under his parents' microscope, he feels like he's standing on a platform that's being slowly spun by scientists. He looks over at Bruce Wayne in confusion, and then back at Damian. "I- yes?"

Damian Wayne nods, and then leaves.

Danny does not once see himself. That is unsettling in and of itself - surely Jason Todd would have been told about another version of himself in this world, wouldn't he? How old is he here? An adult, probably. Danny doesn't know if he wants to see him. What does he look like when he's grown up? He pulls his Robin jacket around him a little tighter, like a cocoon, like a shield.

"It's weird to hear them call me Jason Todd." He says aloud to himself, and it leaves a weight behind in his chest that shouldn't hurt the way it does. It shouldn't be weird to be called your name. It shouldn't cobweb up your throat to hear your name being said. It was his name. It was his.

Danny acclimates to the manor slowly. The house is big, massive. He's never been in a house so large before, he feels like a stray cat being taken in for the first time, again. He and Bruce and Dick Grayson are all given their own separate rooms - one of many inside this mansion - and the sheer size of his bedroom is bigger than his living room and kitchen combined.

it's daunting. Danny sits outside on the balcony and stares at the stars he can see - Wayne Manor is far enough away from Gotham that its light pollution doesn't obscure the sky here like it did in the heart of it.

Danny finds the constellations he can find and wishes he had his books with him. He finds the library the next day and buries himself in the back, curling up into a comfy armchair next and inhaling each book he can get his hands on.

Tim Drake wanders past him at some point, Danny would have missed him if it weren't for the fact that Drake stared at him strangely when he saw him. He walks away when he realizes Danny was staring back.

It's a rinse and repeat for the next few days. Danny doesn't go to meals, he sneaks food from the kitchen afterwards, and then buries himself in hundreds of books in the library.

Dick Grayson, the one from his world, goes and finds him three days later. Danny's eyes hurt with strain by then, but he is furiously halfway through a Jane Austen novel when Dick sits down across from him.

"Have you been here all day?" Dick asks, he drapes himself across the side of his chair, contorting himself into a position that Danny doesn't think is comfortable when he looks up at him.

Not that he looks up at him long - he hums absently and goes back to reading. Frowning when he realizes he lost his place on the page.

Dick Grayson raises an eyebrow, "Have you at least eaten anything?"

Danny hums. No, he hasn't, and he hadn't thought about eating all day. Until now that is, his frown ever deepening as his stomach pangs with a deep hunger.

"That's not healthy."

"Mhm."

"Are you going to eat something?"

"Mhhh."

And this gets Dick to frown. He straightens himself up, propping onto his elbows to stare at Danny. "Jason." He says strongly. And it's that that gets Danny to finally look up from his page, jumping like he'd again been poked with a live wire as he stares at Dick with wide eyes.

"Yes?"

"Put the book down." Dick orders, gesturing towards the side table next to Danny with a nod. "And come eat something." There's very little room for argument in his voice, he sounds like Jazz when she's trying to parent him, but instead he actually sounds authoritative. Not bossy.

Danny still frowns at him. "You're not the boss of me." He says, sinking back into his chair with a thumb bookmarking his page.

Dick gives him a look and makes a decisive noise, swaggling his head side to side while he does. "I'm pretty sure that for as long as we're here, me and B actually are the boss of you."

He's never really liked authority figures, not ones that tried to boss him around, that is. Danny doubles down, his lips curling into a shadow of a scowl. "Just because you're my brother in another world doesn't mean you can act like it."

"That's not what I mean and you know it."

"I don't want to go eat."

"It's not good for you to skip meals."

"Quit talking like Jazz."

"Danny."

Danny sinks his teeth into his lip and scowls darkly at him, shrinking into the back of his armchair in hopes that it'll swallow him whole. The idea of going into that large fucking dining room fills him with a dread that makes him completely forget his appetite.

"Your fucking- dining room is- it's too big." He grits out, finally closing his book and hugging it tightly to his chest.

Dick blinks at him. "What?"

"You heard me! It's too big. This whole place is too big. It's- what do you even do with this much space? I don't know how this- other me ever lived here."

Dick Grayson surprises him, and his expression softens. "Oh," he says, "I get it."

"You do?" The tension bleeds slowly out of Danny's shoulders

"Yeah, I felt the same way when I first moved in with Bruce. I lived with the circus for most of my life, but I slept in a trailer." He says. And he talks more.

The end result of their conversation ends with Dick Grayson offering to let Danny sit across or next to him during mealtimes, and that he can talk to him if he starts getting uneasy. But he can't keep skipping meals - it was making them all worried.

Danny agrees, and Dick takes him down to the kitchens for food.

"They look at me weirdly too." He grumbles as they leave the library, Danny's book returned to the shelf where it belonged. When Dick looks at him curiously, he scrunches his nose up. "The - your other siblings. They look at me like I'm- I'm someone else. S'weird."

"Isn't that a good thing?" Dick asks, "You are someone else."

Dany shrugs, staring at the ground with a heavy frown. "I don't know."

Danny seeks out Dick more after that. And vice versa. Dick reminds Danny of Jazz, and he latches onto the familiarity like a leech. If Dick is bothered by it, he doesn't show it, whether he's talking to his other world's self, to the Bruce's, or to one of the other Wayne kids.

Damian Wayne seems particularly keen to seek him out, Danny finds. He thinks it means that they're close in this world, and that Damian wants to see more of what a young Dick is like. That's what he would do, at least.

He takes up on Dick's offer of seating near him during dinner, and finds an open spot across from him. Unless he has something to show him, then he sits next to him.

("You can call me Jason." He tells him one day when they're in the Wayne's massive, fuck-off gym and they're both climbing over the jungle gym. Dick's showing him how to be more flexible. It's the most Danny's worked out ever, he likes the burn it gives him.

Dick looks at him in surprise, "Really?" he's doing a handstand on the bars and Danny's more than a little jealous at his balance.

"Yeah, dipshit," he says, rolling his eyes, "I'll even let you call me Jay, it's my nickname."

Dick happily takes him up on that offer, and much to Danny's embarrassment, starts calling him Jaybird. All because of his stupid Robin jacket.)

Danny has yet to meet his other self still, it's scaring him a little. Where was he? And matter of fact, how long until he could go back to his home dimension? The three of them hadn't gotten any updates since they arrived.

Speaking of, he was starting to talk to Bruce more, it was just... strange. Even stranger than talking to Dick. Bruce Wayne in another life would have been his adoptive father, Danny can't wrap his head around it for the life of him.

Whatever did Bruce Wayne see in Jason Todd that made him worth adopting? He's too afraid of the answer to ask. They start talking more after they run into each other late at night. Danny had been hit with a bout of insomnia and was going to the library.

He ran into Bruce on the way. He was just.. staring, out the window, with a faraway look in his eye. He didn't even look startled to see Danny standing there.

Danny asks him if he wants to go to the library with him. It was out of panic. He isn't expecting Bruce Wayne to agree, and they walk there in suffocating silence. Danny keeps looking at him from the corner of his eye.

("You're staring?" Bruce doesn't sound upset, Danny jumps anyway.

"Yeah, sorry." his voice sounds stilted, "it's just..." his jaw wires itself shut for a spell, "...you looked like you were about to disappear."

"Ah.")

When they reach the library, Danny leads Bruce Wayne into the science section and takes out books upon books about stars. He leads him over to the armchair and fire and they both sit down on the ground.

"When I lived in Gotham I would stargaze." Danny says, it's the first thing he can think of. Bruce Wayne looks at him quizzically. "Well, I would try to. The sky's too polluted for that. Mostly I would just watch the skyline and try and spot Batman and Robin, was the same thing."

That cracks a smile out of Bruce. It's a small one, barely there. "I hardly think the two are comparable."

Danny is still serious. "Not to me."

He goes on, talking about how after he was adopted he got his hands on every star book he could find. He loves english and he loves to read, but something about the stars drew him in like a song. He rambles about every star fact he knows with Bruce Wayne.

Bruce Wayne surprises him by telling him facts he didn't know. Danny soaks it up like a sponge, listening intently to him speak. And when they run out of star books to talk about, Danny tells Bruce that it was his turn to find something for them to talk about.

Bruce Wayne smiles again at him, a sly little thing like Danny's challenged him, and gets up. He comes back with a stack of film books, and they spend the next few hours going through them. Bruce Wayne rattles off every single movie fun fact he knows, and there is so much that he knows.

Danny is in awe, and moves to press against Bruce's side to see the stuff he points at in his books.

"You're smarter than people give you credit for." He says at some point, when his eyes hurt from being open for too long and his head leans against Bruce's arm for support. It follows with a jaw-cracking yawn that he tries and fails to stifle.

"Thank you, Danny." Bruce says, his voice soft and soothing and not helping with Danny's weighing exhaustion. His eyes drift, and then jerk open. "Do you want to go back to your room? You look tired, chum."

He bites back a smile at the nickname, and fails to keep it bitten. "No, no, I'm awake." He mumbles, shaking his head slowly. "I wanna hear-" he yawns again, "-hear you talking."

Danny swears he can hear the smile in Bruce's voice as he speaks; "Alright. Now, where was I?"

In the end, Danny falls asleep on the floor of the library next to Bruce Wayne. He doesn't even realize it until he wakes up the next morning. But it's not to worry, Bruce Wayne fell asleep too, an arm thrown around Danny protectively like he was his own kid.

This becomes a thing for them soon enough. When neither of them can sleep, they go to the library and talk and talk about whatever comes to mind.

There comes the dreaded night after they've finished whatever book they were looking at when Bruce, the little shit, turns to Danny and goes; "You never mentioned what happened after you hit Batman with a tire iron."

Danny groans, big and dramatic, burying his head in his arms, and ignores the low chuckle. "I thought he was gonna chase me down for sure." He complains, his voice muffled by his arms.

"Why did you hit him with a tire iron?"

The look Bruce gets is one of pure disbelief. "If Mothman suddenly showed up behind you while you were taking the wheels off his ride, you'd hit him too!"

"Last time I checked, Mothman isn't real." Bruce told him amusedly, and Danny flops over onto his back to stare him down. His arms sprawl out like a starfish, intentionally hitting Bruce in the shoulder.

"You don't know that, Batman's a cryptid and he's real."

Bruce roars with laughter, and Danny preens like a bird.

That next morning when Bruce passes by him for breakfast, he reaches over and ruffles his hair. It's the same thing he does for Dick every morning. It's the first of many, and it gets many stares from the surrounding family.

Bruce has a newspaper tucked under his arm, and when he sits down Danny stands up and skedaddles over to him, leaning over the side of his chair to peer at the paper.

"Any cryptids spotted, Buzz?" He asks, getting a startled laugh out of Bruce, who looks up at him.

"Buzz?"

"Well, yeah," and Danny states it as matter-of-fact. He gestures his head at Dick Grayson. "Dick calls you 'B', and B is for bees, and I can't just call you Bees, that's dumb. So; Buzz."

He grins triumphantly when Bruce laughs quietly, his shoulders shaking imperceptibly. "I know," he tilts his head up proudly, "I'm a genius."

Now he's actually laughing, dropping his head into one of his hands and trying to quiet himself as much as possible. Danny is positively beaming, ignoring the stares of the other Waynes as he flounces back to his seat just as the other Mister Wayne enters the room.

When Jason Daniel Fenton Todd meets Jason Todd for the first time, they both just stare at each other.

Danny recognizes himself immediately in the library, and he freezes up. His tongue ties to the roof of his mouth, and he's unsure of what to say.

He doesn't need to say anything at all, because when Jason Todd looks up and they lock eyes, they both just stare. And stare. Jason Todd is a large, hulk of a man, built like a brick shithouse, with a tired, traumatized look in his eyes and a white streak in his black curls. The same black curls that Danny himself has.

He has no idea what to say. Or if he should turn back around and leave.

Jason Todd sighs at him, "I know they told me you and another world's Bruce and Dickie were here," he says, but it sounds like he's talking to himself. Even moreso when he mutters half-heartedly, "-but I was hoping I wouldn't run into you."

Danny feels small next to him. He doesn't know why. "Sorry." He says lamely, his one foot skips back, "I can leave if you want." It's unlike him to be meek, he thinks. Not after years of Gotham living and dealing with the likes of Dash and his Jerk Jocks.

But this also isn't the streets, and this isn't other kids being dicks. Jason Todd shakes his head, and gestures with one large arm for Danny to come over. "You don't need to do that, you were coming to read, right?"

He nods, and tentatively makes his way over. When Jason looks at him, he sees him cast his eyes over his Robin jacket - he wears it everyday. Danny sees him narrow his eyes, just slightly. But he says nothing.

It's... a strange conversation. Interaction. Jason Todd doesn't talk to him much, and if he does it's stilted and awkward, like he doesn't know how to treat him. Like he's holding him at arm's length.

Jason's getting tired of being treated like a ghost.

They talk about their books. They compare lives. Jason Todd was picked up a few days after he stole the wheels of the batmobile. He wasn't an orphan, he lived with his mom and his stepdad before he lived with Bruce. They both like to read, only Danny has an interest in the stars.

("What do your adoptive parents do?" Jason Todd asks him, one arm slung over the back of the armchair, he looks relaxed. He looks tense. Danny feels like he's back in Crime Alley again.

"They're 'ectologists'." He says, making air quotes over the word. He rolls his eyes, "Ghost hunters. They study the dead and all things afterlife."

Jason Todd makes a dry laugh huff, a sarcastic half-smile on his face. He doesn't explain why he does, Danny doesn't ask why. It doesn't seem like his business.)

Danny wants to ask him where he got that white streak in his hair. It doesn't feel right. It feels like his parents' lab, and that isn't right. Nothing ever feels like his parents' lab.

Jason Todd leaves first after giving him a few book recommendations. Danny isn't sure how to rate the experience. Being in Jason Todd's presence was like standing in a liminal space. An empty parking lot at night. When he leaves it feels like much the same thing.

He struggles to read his books afterwards, unable to shake the feeling of being haunted.

#THERE WILL BE A PART 2 #dpxdc #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dpxdc crossover #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #danny is jason todd au #daniel jason fenton todd #daniel jason fenton todd?#man i love these variant aus huh #somehing about exploring identity man #I DIDNT EVEN GET TO THE PART THAT WAS THE WHOLE REASON I MADE THE WHOLE POST #that will be in part 2 onfg #but its so late i've been writing for literally hours #you know its late bc these tags aren't half as long as they normally are #its not a starry au unless it needs a read more #there's so much fluff here folks #so much fluff #it was supposed to be rlly only between dick and danny but bruce the sneaky bastard snuck in there #bc i needed him to also??? be on Good Terms with danny #parental ambiguity with the fenton parents. are they good? are they bad? who knows!#claps loudly IT IS VERY IMPORTANT THAT DANNY DOES NOT FIGURE OUT THEIR IDENTITY AT ALL DURING THIS #starry coming in hot with another unnecessarily long au #none of my friends are in DPDC so tumblr gets it instead

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totally-italy · 1 month

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Wherefore dost motivation hold deep hatred for me?

As the heading probably implies, I am currently lacking a lot of motivation, which is truly sub-optimal because I literally have my Italian GCSEs this week and I literally have not revised. Moreover, my End of Years are fast approaching and I have my French GCSEs in three week's time. Help.

Consequentially, even though my history teacher still refuses to believe that it is a word, I have decided to turn this into one of those posts where my dopamine literally just relies on the number of notes that I recieve. As promised, @the-red-planet-mars, the floor is yours you have been tagged.

Rules:

Please don't spam the comment section.

You can tag a maximum of 5 people.

Please don't spam reblog.

10 notes: I will actually plan my English homework so that I can then do it without having to ask for an extension. It is due on the day on which I have two of my Italian papers.

15 notes: I will update my 'Aeneid' notes so that my virtual document is up to date with the translations that we have done in class. I should technically also revise the themes and how Juno is portrayed, but we don't talk about that right now.

20 notes: If I haven't done this yet, I will create both a Spanish Quizlet with all the vocabulary I need to learn and I will create a Latin one for all the vocabulary from 'The Aeneid' that I need to know.

25 notes: I will plan, in English, different things that I could say for the picture for my French IGCSE oral. Also, this is a picture I will be using for my Spanish End of Years, so that is doubly helpful.

30 notes: I will do an Italian listening paper though I will listen to it at a faster speed than what is asked because otherwise I will literally get so bored and lose all will to live.

45 notes: I will finish researching Virgil and the historical context.

60 notes: I will practice Latin and Greek vocabulary on Quizlet every day after this week, for at least 10 minutes each day for each language.

75 notes: I really need to do this. I will make a poster with how to form different tenses in Italian.

100 notes: I will do an Italian Writing practice paper. This is going to cause me so much suffering. Help me.

120 notes: I will actually write down different expressions, including idomatic phrases, that I could use to describe the picture for my French IGCSE oral.

130 notes: I will make physics notes on energy.

140 notes: I will make notes on quantitative chemistry.

150 notes: I will make a poster with how to form different tenses in French.

155 notes: I will watch the AQA videos on the Cold War and make notes on them.

170 notes: I will do a practice Spanish listening paper.

200 notes: I will practice Latin and Greek vocabulary on Quizlet every day after this week, for at least 30 minutes each day for each language, including a written vocabulary test.

230 notes: I will do a practice Spanish reading and writing paper.

250 notes: I will do a practice Latin translation and ask my teacher if she happens to have a mark scheme.

270 notes: I will do a practice Greek translation and ask my teacher if she happens to have a mark scheme.

300 notes: I will finish my RSP notes on Crime and Punishment.

350 notes: I finish my Biology notes on reproduction.

380 notes: I will finish my RSP notes on Religion and Life.

430 notes: I will look through my history notes on Germany and finish them in accordance to the AQA book.

520 notes: I will do a practice Greek language paper.

530 notes: I will do a practice Latin language paper.

605 notes: I will actually write down different expressions, including idomatic phrases, that I could use to describe the picture for my Spanish End of Year oral.

720 notes: I will finish my RSP notes on Buddhism.

850 notes: I will make full notes on the Cold War.

Honestly, if you have even bothered to read through all of these, you have absolutely earned more respect that I thought I was capable of giving to a single human being. I technically have a lot more things I should do, including re-reading Things Fall Apart and actually making complete maths notes, as well as notes for the sciences, but I doubt I will never get this many tags anyway.

Edit: It has been five minutes and I already got 14 notes. I am actually terrified of this site. What in Tartarus? Y'all are crazy and I love you so much.

#Good luck #You guys are never going to manage this #I really need the motivation but there are some things that I really don't want to do #Studying is so hard #If you guys happen to have any tips #Do feel free to put them in the comments #Unfortunately #Those count as notes so you would actually be helping #Thank you in advance #I feel like this will never work #But we shall see #l'italiana parla #I'm scheduling this so that it sends after lunch #I need to go and eat now #I also have a couple of pieces of homework to quickly do #Oops

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messiahzzz · 2 months

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it is a conscious choice of mystra to initially present herself as this benevolent, courteous, and merciful being. a practiced and perfected approach she knows will compel gale to follow her demands with the least amount of resistance on his part. he already refused to follow her instructions when she sent elminster to request his death — his effective father figure, gale’s self-proclaimed hero, mentor, and the one who plucked him from obscurity in the first place — so another appeal is in order.

narrator: "elminster's visit weighs heavy on your mind. his face you did not expect to see again." narrator: "when you last saw him, you were in your prime. no orb, no tadpole. a mage of growing renown, all power, pride, and potential - beloved by the goddess of magic herself. narrator: "it's one thing to have fallen from such heights, but to have elminster himself now witness your humiliation is almost unbearable." gale: [his disappointment cuts deeper even than mystra's. he was your hero.] narrator: "while most know of elminster the legend, few know him as you have. he plucked you from obscurity. offered you his guidance. his faith. and most recently, his pity."

yet it is curious how quickly she changes her tune once gale doesn’t readily agree to her demand to return the crown of karsus to her, no questions asked. or even dares to impugn, or criticize her reasoning for leaving him to die.

gale: "a great ask indeed. you've given me much to think on - as you always did." mystra: "so be it. follow the needles of your own wisdom. we shall see how truly it leads you."

gale: "because i disobeyed you. you punished me for it." mystra: "how so? you think i should have cured you? erased the consequences of your actions?"

gale: "you break up with me, cut me off from the weave, leave me to die, and that's all you have to say? 'you look well'?" mystra: "i did not come here to suffer a mortal's admonitions. certainly not yours."

gale: "you were threatened. you realised you couldn't control me." mystra: "you were many things to me, but never a threat. and never a saviour." nodecontext: sharper, almost a warning - don't entertain such thoughts, gale. you won't like where they lead.

gale: "i don't know. i need time to think." mystra: "so be it. follow the needle of your own wisdom. we shall see how truly it leads you."

particularly interesting to note is how she uses his surname as a tool to chastise and taunt him. only referring to him as "gale dekarios" in the context of him displeasing her, when he doesn't readily obey, whether he simply wavers (needing time to think) or outright declines her instructions. she uses the very name he had actively discarded and refuses to be referred to at this point in time. a deliberate reminder of his fallible humanity, of the flaws he tried to distance himself from. she knows this.

gale: "i won't let you down again. when the absolute is vanquished, i will surrender karsus' powers to you. you have my word." mystra: "thank you. may the weave's light guide your purpose, and it's wisdom guide your hand." mystra: "the future of magic rests on your shoulders, gale of waterdeep". mystra: "i promise you - it is a burden you are strong enough to bear."

gale: "i don't need your forgiveness. the crown of karsus will be mine, and the karsite weave will obey me." mystra: "crown yourself, gale dekarios, and you will learn what it is to carry such weight upon your shoulders." mystra: "if it does not crush you, i will." nodecontext: an icy edge entering her voice - a hint of a challenge gale will face if he pursues this course. nodecontext: here we glimpse the true, unimaginable power of mystra. she's still in control of herself, but her anger should be palpable.

i have already addressed the overall topic of mystra & gale's relationship in several posts i wrote some time ago [x] [x] [x]. however, since then we have received new snippets of information with patch 5 that shed more light on the progression of their relationship as a whole. this post is intended to be an update of sorts, containing a more comprehensive list, as well as lore excerpts for added context and proof. i will split this essay into several sections for coherency — buckle in, cause this is going to be a long one!

✧ mystra's history of manipulation ✧

one of the epilogue letters revealed that elminster first sought gale out when he was about 8 years old. which according to gale's canon age being 35 (as listed on his idle champions character sheet) means that their first meeting occurred around 1465 DR. although elminster's wording suggests that this may merely be an estimate on his side.

furthermore - in the ending where gale dies in the attempt at ascension, raphael has the following to say:

raphael: "you were the spark of ambition that rekindled gale's ambitions, after mystra had so cleverly put them to rest."

insinuating that mystra did make an active effort to keep gale in line, to temper his ambition, lest his thirst for more knowledge would eventually prove bothersome for her. keeping an eye on him at all times, keeping him close, placating him, and urging him to be patient.

what distinctly stood out to me is how this also aligns with some of azuth's quotes in the temptation of elminster, while he gives advice to a then-young sage of shadowdale.

we are her treasures, lad—we are what she holds most dear, the rocks she can cling to in the storms of wild art. she needs us to be strong, far stronger than most mortals ... tempered tools for her use. being bound to us by love and linked to us to preserve her very humanity, she finds it hard to be harsh to us—to do the tempering that must be done. she began the tempering of you long ago; you are her 'pet project', if you will. [...]

"you serve mystra differently. she watches you and learns the human side of magic in all it's hues from your experiences and the doings of those you meet—foes and friends alike. yet the time has come for you to change, and grow, to serve as she'll need you to, in the centuries ahead."

and yet again, there is a reoccurring pattern in her relationship with sammaster, another of her chosen, as well:

sammaster fell to his knees and wept upon mystra's feet. they ended up spending ten days together. this made him the first chosen of mystra since the seven sisters. when he asked for the reason that mystra had chosen him, she replied that she had foreseen that one of her chosen would be killed in battle, and he would be the replacement. he left this encounter feeling as though he and mystra were in love.

mystra is no stranger to fostering feelings of boundless devotion that weren't present before. observing her potential chosen, appearing before them, promising them power. luring them into service without the knowledge of what this may entail. where other gods may instill fear, mystra instills the notion of love. practicing seduction while mirroring her chosen's humanity. intentionally portraying herself as someone sympathetic and approachable. syncing their language, highlighting mutuality, making them feel favored and seen. mystra sees no need in the act of divine separation, a display of godlike grandeur — inimitable, menacing, larger than life, towering above her chosen. instead, her manifestation is purposefully unassuming. she meets them in the form of a woman in her early 30s, conventionally attractive, palpable, and appealing to the masses — a human figure. the very embodiment, the very ideal of traditional beauty an impressionable, young wizard may have.

gale: "i can't quite describe it, the need i sometimes feel to see her - to draw the filaments of fantasy into existence." gale: "no sculpture or painting could ever do her justice, only the fabric that she herself is and embodies."

gale: "in her likeness, i used to read a thousand stories. she was beauty, wisdom, elegance, power... she contained universes."

player: “what did mystra’s attention feel like?” gale: “love. [...] perhaps it was not quite love, but you see, the wizard was but a very young man. it was most certainly love to him. [...]"

how we see her in the game is very likely the same form she chose to present to a young gale. beauty, wisdom, elegance. perceived perfection, yet humble in her divinity.

the mystra of now (1490s DR) retains some of the memories of all of her earlier selves, and the relatively young and inexperienced midnight is “in there,” but wholly subsumed. mystra could generate an avatar or seeming that might fool some mortals into thinking they were meeting midnight, but it would be an act. [x]

generating an avatar in the form of a mortal she subsumed. purporting mutuality. midnight was just another mortal added to mystra's long list of "human stock" — vessels intended to preserve her power. favored, chosen, and ultimately suppressed by the very essence of mystra herself. midnight is no equal piece of mystra, the deity, there is no conscious part of the mortal that remains. [x] the mystra that currently exists is a union of the original mystryl, as well as all the other reincarnations of her that melded into her being. fragments of their minds that linger in the weave, scraps of humanity that could perhaps aid in her knowledge and understanding to prevent further betrayals in the future.

mystra's approach has always been indirect, instead of being outright menacing and portentous. the fact that mystra isn't written like the other gods in the game doesn't mean she's more sympathetic to gale's struggles or more inclined to understand human nature. her concern will always be the preservation of her domain and her hold over the weave — to do as the gods do.

gale: "you're one to talk. how many innocents were you prepared to sacrifice if i detonated the orb?" mystra: "such eddies are unexceptional. souls arrive and depart your plane with every tide, in circumstances just and unjust." nodecontext: matter of fact, not interested in these kinds of specifics

ketheric thorm: "who decides what is right? the gods did not care for right and wrong when they dismantled my life piece by piece." ketheric thorm: "and when i tried to buy it back, it cost me everything - everything." ketheric thorm: "we are copper pieces in their belts. tokens to be traded for scraps."

it is often mentioned that mystra makes her attention known by brushing against her potential chosen. whispering to them, touching their skin, eliciting a tingling sensation. which is also how mystra chose to reveal herself to ariel manx (midnight) in 1353 DR, while she was 21 years of age.

gale mentions feeling a similar sensation if he chooses to destroy the summoning circle in balthazar's office at moonrise and thereby receives her blessing.

gale: "did you feel that?" gale: "if i wasn't surrounded on all sides by the darkness of the shadow-cursed lands, i'd think it was mystra herself brushing against my skin."

mystra isn't above using manipulations to get her way. once again evident in her instigating dornal and elué silverhand's union in the first place, as well as intentionally withholding information from dornal that she actively took possession of his wife, elué. to ensure that they would indeed produce her offspring — the seven sisters — her chosen and the vessels to house her power.

where elué had previously been reluctant to acknowledge dornal's advances, he found them suddenly returned with great fervor once mystra took possession of her body. [x]

"by the time elué was carrying her final child, she was in effect a lich - a crumbling shell kept alive only through mystra's power. dornal was shocked at her deterioration. he sought magical aid to cure his wife, and when he learned from the most powerful priest he could find that his wife was possessed by an intelligent force of great power, a sickened dornal tried to slay her. he struck off her head one moonlight night as they walked together in a wooded glade. mystra was forced to reveal herself. dornal was shattered by what he had done, and aghast at how he - and especially elué - had been used." [x]

dornal, who had been kept in the dark throughout, abandoned his lands and children after slaying his wife, traveling to the north, with the plan to seek his own death. he repeatedly tried to poison himself, yet mystra wouldn't allow him suicide and magically neutralized the lethal doses to keep him alive against his will. after his death in 797 DR, mystra turned him into another servant of hers: the watcher — one who wanders the realms, seeking out new potential chosen to this day.

which brings us to...

✧ mystra's foresight and her "death" ✧

mystra possesses a degree of foresight - she foresaw the time of troubles and her own passing at the hands of helm in 1358 DR for defying him and her attempt to converse with the overgod ao without the tablets of fate. the very reason why she sought out mortal vessels to house her power (the seven sisters) — to avoid disaster should another entity win control over her in the chaotic period of wildly fluctuating power struggles that was the time of troubles. this divine power slumbers within these individuals, which she can call upon.

in 1385 DR mystra (midnight) was struck down by cyric and shar, which brought upon the spellplague.

in 1479 DR mystra was located by elminster inside a cave in cormyr, guarding her mortal body. she survived cyric's assassination by inhabiting the body of a bear, while still able to contact her chosen. she returned to her full power in 1487 DR.

the important part, that i've often seen outright ignored or misinterpreted by fandom altogether, is that mystra wasn’t actually “dead” for over a hundred years. at least not in the way we perceive it. we can’t equate her death with our mortal understanding of it. her powers were diminished to an extreme and she was weakened, yet she was still able to communicate. it was in her power to contact her chosen and to guide them. evident by her calling for elminster through her telepathic link and directing him to recruit other chosen for her to restore her power.

the plot of baldur’s gate 3 takes place in 1492 DR. meaning gale's actual year of birth would be 1457 DR. while elminster likely sought him out around 1465 DR, when he was only 8 years old. however, i once again want to emphasize that “couldn’t have been more than 8 summers old” indicates that this may merely be an estimate on elminster's side. he could’ve possibly reached out to him even earlier than that, or perhaps later. gale was 22 year old at the time when mystra was found in her diminished state by elminster in 1479 DR.

✧ mystra's awareness✧

gale: “so, all it took to get mystra’s attention was to learn how to reforge an artifact that once destroyed her." gale: "it's obvious, when you stop to think about it."

even if you may personally be skeptical of elminster’s insertion into gale’s life at age 8 (as well as mystra's ability to contact her chosen during her death) to be enough evidence of mystra’s attention — she had to be aware of him for his talents alone since he was a mere child. there is no way around this.

player: "how could she possibly know we read a book? hasn't she got more important things to worry about?" gale: "the weave is a highly sensitive magical network threaded through all life on this plane. any shift in magical energy, no matter how small, is akin to a beacon, alerting mystra to its cause." gale: "opening a book like the annals of karsus was akin to us shooting a firework spelling 'look at us, mystra!' directly into the skies of elysium. she knows."

mystra IS the weave, as gale himself has stated several times. it is an extension of her being, threaded through all life. by touching the weave one is directly touching the goddess of magic herself. mystra is aware of any magic user, able to deepen this contact at her choosing.

shadowheart: "isn't it so, that every time you speak as you cast a spell, you're endeavouring to call upon mystra?" shadowheart: "i'm surprised she still listens to you." gale: "she has no choice - she's sworn to hear all magic users. even me." gale: "i'm sure she at least stuffs her fingers in her ears to muffle my invocations."

gale described himself as a child prodigy. a virtuoso that was able to manipulate and compose the weave at will from an early age.

gale: "magic is... my life. i've been in touch with the weave for as long as i can remember. there's nothing like it."

gale: "i'm what one might call a wizard prodigy, who from an early age could not only control the weave, but compose it, much like a musician or a poet."

gale: "such was my skill that it earned me the attention of the mother of magic herself. the lady of mysteries. the goddess mystra." gale: "she revealed herself to me and she became my teacher. in time, she became my muse, and later, even my lover."

someone who was able to perform feats way beyond the skillset of his peers. he managed to wield the blackstaff itself, accidentally facing an irritated death slaad, and lived to tell the tale. he summoned and befriended tara, as well as the magma mephit, k'ha'ssji'trach'ash. we also know from elminster that he was able to cast fireball — a 3rd level spell — at age 8.

it is indisputable that mystra must’ve taken notice of the precocious young wizard during this time, even in her diminished state. much like she had once observed midnight. she began to whisper to him, drawing back the veils, revealing herself bit by bit, urging him that he was special — chosen.

gale: "he fancied himself much more than that. he fancied himself favoured above all others. [...] mystra showed him the secrets behind the veils. the gossamer veils first, draped across the weave. the delicate veils next, draped across her body. ‘chosen one’ she whispered, as she slipped them off completely."

✧ final part: power imbalance & exerting control ✧

gale: "the weave is still here, all around us - inside of us too. as long as the goddess lives, magic is a tangible thing for those who know how to touch." gale: "i've studied magic for many years, and in as many ways i am still a more than capable wizard." gale: "it's just that i'm no longer able to perform those feats even arch wizards would marvel at." gale: " to have one hand on the pulse of divinity." gale: "you have to remember that the weave is a living thing, both the embodiment and the extension of mystra herself." gale: "she can give and she can take away. i'm afraid i'm still very much on her naughty list."

gale: "mystra commands all magic. salvation, if such a thing exists, is hers to bestow or withhold." gale: "and yet, even now, more than i fear losing my own self and soul, i fear losing my command of her art."

player: "he sounds like a very talented individual." gale: "he was. even though it was in mystra’s affections that his true power lay."

even apart from their innate different forms of existence as a mere mortal and the literal goddess of magic, mystra is in full control of gale's power at all times, able to grant and withdraw her favors at will. claiming that such a power imbalance doesn’t exist, that it doesn’t apply to their respective relationship, that it might’ve been “healthy” at one point if gale was indeed of age at the time their relationship transitioned into a sexual nature is —pardon my french— fucking insane.

this stance disregards everything we know about the gods, about mystra’s involvement with other mortals and her chosen. it disregards the level of authority she wields over any magic user. it carelessly and naively disregards the implicit difference in power. mystra is the goddess of magic, his goddess. the very object of his worship and adoration since childhood. the goddess he devoted his life, his work, and his unyielding loyalty to. it is ultimately irrelevant at what exact point their relationship underwent its final transition from muse to lover. this discussion is redundant. mystra has been a constant presence since his early childhood. his worship of her began with the practice of his first spells, even if it wasn't conscious at the time. every practitioner of magic inevitably honors mystra, regardless of their faith in her. magic is his life, in the same way that mystra is pure magic. she is in total control of the tools he wields.

✧ summary ✧

mystra possesses a degree of foresight, already knowing about the time of troubles & her subsequent passing. this being her reason to seek out mortal vessels to secure her power.

mystra feels any shift in magical energy no matter how small, immediately alerting her. gale was able to cast a third-level spell at age 8.

mystra has a history of instilling feelings of love that weren't present before and using her chosen/other mortals for her own means. (elminster, khelben, sammaster, the seven daughters, ariel manx etc.)

mystra's manifestation is a conscious choice. midnight has been wholly subsumed by her.

mystra wasn’t actually “dead” in 1479 DR, but merely diminished. she was inhabiting the body of a bear and was still able to communicate with her chosen. she directed elminster to recruit other chosen to restore her power.

elminster sought gale out around 1465 DR when he was about 8 years old, as stated in the epilogue letter.

mystra first functioned as gale’s mentor, then his muse, and later his lover.

gale’s relationship with her was indeed of a sexual nature, he has explicitly stated so several times. their intimacy wasn't restricted to incorporeal interactions either, even though they were preferred.

during the ending where gale fails to ascend raphael states during the credits that tav has “rekindled gale’s ambitions after mystra had so cleverly put them to rest”.

azuth describes mystra's chosen as "tempered tools for her use". being bound to them by love and linked to them to preserve her very humanity.

mystra's intention to shape gale into yet another loyal, devoted asset to her portfolio has been there from the very moment she chose to reveal herself, to instruct elminster to seek him out. it was a conscious decision to directly insert herself into gale’s life, sowing his conviction that he was favored above all others. singling him out among his peers, isolating him with subtle promises of his greatness, his uniqueness, and all he could yet accomplish to be under her guidance. offering him her teachings, her inspiration, and eventually her love. yet all the while tempering his perceived greed and thirst to reach for even greater heights, unless it acted in her favor. keeping him close — lest his growing ambitions should ever prove to be an outright challenge to her rule.

the groundwork has been carefully laid from the very beginning.

gale: “goodnight. and thank you for your patient understanding. [...] try not to think too poorly of me. a cat can look at a king. a wizard can look at a goddess.”

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 meta #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #mystra #grooming tw #abuse tw #long post #writing this genuinely burned me out ngl #so glad to finally unleash it though since it has been sitting in my drafts for weeks

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thepersonnamedsam · 11 months

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Could you do reader gets her wisdom teeth removed and the drivers take shift in watching her ?

anesthesia

pairing: the genz!driver x '23!grid

summary: the genz!driver wakes up one day with so much pain that she has to take out her wisdom teeth

word count: 2.9k

warnings: mentions of depression and anxiety, reader on a high

note: sorry, it got a bit depressed here and there, but it’s still a very fun post to read, well at least i hope so

masterlist / taglist

Everything hurt, like everything. Not just a limb or a stomach, her whole body hurt, but mostly her mouth, her teeth actually. But she would never say that, afraid someone would accuse her of not brushing her teeth.

Oh and she was whining. Everybody she encountered had to listen to her whine. Show her body hurt and everything pulsated and how she just wanted to sleep and it was the worst. People war starting to worry about her. And Charles was the first one to suggested to pay a visit to the medics.

„Would you like me to bring you to the medics, y/n?“, he had asked her. But she just whined and shook her head. „Are you sure, you seem like you are in a lot of pain“, he checked with her, but she still refused. She didn’t want to know, if she had a bad tooth.

It was only Wednesday, so just media for the day, or that’s what y/n thought. When you’re in pain, even media is hard. She was thankfully paired with Max, Lando, Fernando and Kevin. At least she had some people she felt comfortable with. Max sat on her left, whilst Fernando sat on her right. Next to Max was Lando and Kevin sat on the other side of Nando - she was squished between the drivers. Her body leaned slightly into Nando and he just let her, he had heard about her pain and was just glad she was up and walking.

They asked some questions, y/n not really present and not actually listening, until Max poked her and pointed to an interviewer with his index finger.

„I am so sorry, what was your question again?“, she asked the nice looking lady. She smiled and repeated her question to the young driver: „There were some rumours going around that you are in pain, is that true and can you elaborate?“

y/n groaned internally, of course her pain made the talk. She was half expecting the question, if she could race this weekend with her pain and if she would’ve answered truthfully, she would’ve said I don’t know.

„Thank you for your question. Uhm, yes, I am experiencing some pain at the moment, but it’s not as bad as it seems. I can still race on Sunday“, she talked into the microphone. The interviewer seemed only kind of content with her answer, but it’ll have to do, because y/n was back on leaning against Fernando and had closed her eyes.

When she woke up on Thursday morning, she had to clutch her cheeks. Groans left her mouth and she was ready to die, or that’s what she thought. Something wasn’t right. She wanted to call Seb and ask for his opinion on things, but when she opened her mouth, she almost screamed. She opted for a text, explaining how much her mouth hurt and what she should do.

Seb immediately saw her message and had to ask Hanna. His wife told him to ask someone on the grid to take her to the dentist - immediately. So, that’s what he did.

„Hey Lewis, what’s up? Listen, I have a request for you“, he told Lewis over the phone. He explained how the young driver has felt pain in her mouth for the last two or three days and how she woke up that day with unbearable pain. „Aw man, that’s bad, she can’t race with that now, can she?“, the Brit asked back. Seb shook his head no, even though Lewis couldn’t see the action over the phone.

„Hanna said to take her to the dentist, and you know I would do it myself, but you guys are in Silverstone and I myself are in Switzerland.“

Lewis promised him to take the girl to the dentist as soon as possible. Seb exhaled, glad to have helped in some way. He texted y/n back, told her that Lewis was gonna take her to see someone for the pain.

You can’t imagine how glad y/n was, that Seb handled all of that for her. She texted him a thousand thank yous and she hugged Lewis so tight when he was standing in front of her hotel room.

„Ready to leave?“, he asked her. She nodded and the two left the hotel together. As always, paparazzi were waiting for the drivers and flashed them with their questions and pictures.

„Where are you going?“

„Is it related to your pain, y/n?“

„What do you think about the track, Lewis, will you bring it home?“

y/n‘s eyes hurt, well everything hurt, but the bright flashes didn’t do anything against the pain, it much rather made it worse. Lewis saw how y/n had to shut her eyes closed, so he took off his Mercedes hat and placed it on her head. The journalists would have a feast with that.

In Lewis‘ car, she took his hat off and placed it on the dashboard. The car ride wasn’t long, only about twenty minutes. And as the two walked into the dentists office, her heart started racing. The last thing she wanted to hear, was her having a bad tooth.

y/n struggled with depression and anxiety, so normal tasks as brushing teeth, was sometimes very hard to maintain. Her daily trains and meals were easy, because she had her personal trainer who tracked her and was always by her side. But as soon as she was all alone again, the easiest daily routines became the hardest. Brushing teeth and hair, showering and washing her hair. Cleaning the kitchen or the bathroom. Washing her clothes on the Monday after a race. It was all so hard, but she didn’t want anyone to know. She didn’t want people to know and pity her.

That’s why people noticing her unfinished tasks or her habits, it made her anxious. So, so very anxious. And she especially didn’t want Lewis to know. He would just tell Seb and Seb would probably order her to Switzerland and make an appointment with the best psychiatrist he knows and she could forget her racking career. No, that was not gonna happen.

„Lewis, can you please wait outside?“, she begged him. But he wasn’t budging. He knew of her fear of dentists and was not having it. He was going in with her. So, he took her by her hand and dragged her to the treatment room.

Her mind raced with anxious thoughts, but the dentist did not confirm her worst fear. Her wisdom teeth were growing and they had to be taken out eventually. But not at the moment, because she had Free Practice, Qualifying and a Race she had to attend in the next four days. They made an appointment on Monday, they would bestanden out under anesthesia, because of her fears.

The dentist sent her home with some pretty strong pain meds, which she was glad, because for the first time in a week, she didn’t feel any pain.

The days flew by, she placed P11 on the race. She was so happy for Lewis and Lando, a bit sad for Oscar. But so, so happy for the Brits. As she was standing from the sidelines, Lando offered her a the champagne bottle, but she couldn’t eat or drink 14 hours before her surgery and definitely no alcohol. So, she kindly declined and opted for a quick thumbs up and a air kiss for her favourite boys.

Fernando had heard from Lewis about her wisdom teeth and offered to come with Lewis, so he wouldn’t be all alone with the young and high driver. He may have also talked to Carlos about it, who told Charles, who told Daniel, who told Max. They were all coming with. Some to help the young driver and some to laugh at her. Their group chat was going to be full of videos and photos of her.

Monday morning, the girl was waiting anxiously for Lewis‘ car. And when he finally pulled up and she saw who were sitting in it, she groaned.

„Lewis, I told you not to tell anyone“, she whined. The addressed only laughed, so did the whole car. She squeezed herself between Charles and Carlos, who were sitting behind the drivers seat and the passenger seat. Lewis was driving, obviously, Fernando was sitting next to Lewis and Max and Daniel were seated in the backs seats. Even though it didn’t make much sense with Daniel, because of his long legs, he had to sit in a weird cramped position.

When the seven arrived, the assistants looked at them funny and the dentist had to hide a snort. The young girl with her seven bodyguards.

The procedure was short, all four teeth were removed and now they were waiting for her to wake up. The dentist warned them, that the anesthesia doesn’t wear off for about ten more minutes, so she’ll be sleeping until then. And after that, she’ll still have some after effects. Max was waiting for that to happen.

Her mouth was dry and it felt like she had sand in her mouth? Anyway, her body felt like she was hit by a truck, possibly a Haas or an Alfa Romeo. She blinked slowly, why was it so bright? And why were her hands not moving up to her face like she wanted them to? What was going on?

Something loud an obnoxious forced herself through her ears, it was almost painful. What the fuck was happening? She tried to wiggle her toes, but they didn’t move. She looked panicked and tried to find a familiar voice. That’s when she saw Daniel laughing, pointing his phone at her, probably filming this whole thing. Her eyes followed his movements and she found Lewis slightly smiling at her. She saw him move his mouth, but she couldn’t hear anything.

Lewis saw the watery eyes of her and wanted to reassure her that she was safe and all went well, but the more he spoke, the more tears spilt out of her eyes. She full on started crying. You could sense, that everyone in that room was overwhelmed and didn’t know what to do. Until Fernando went up to her and took the girl in his arms. Shushing and humming a light tune. Soon her tears turned into hiccups and she was calm again.

„My body isn’t moving they way I want it to“, she whined, but it was hard to understand her with all the gauze in her mouth. „And I’m thirsty.“

Carlos stood up and got a cup of water for her, which she was very grateful for and she met him know very much.

„Thank you so much, Carlito. I love you, I hope you know that.“

The boys laughed at her, but she looked at them mean and said: „Don’t be jealous because he receives my love. And stop laughing, it’s so loud.“ That made Daniel laugh even louder and she just glared at him. Max was snickering silently and hit Danny on his arm, to signal him to turn it down a nudge, but that he was enjoying that just as much as he was.

„Danny, I heard you’re gonna be back on the grid in Hungary?“, she smiled at the Australian. „Yeah, yeah, but different than you might think.“ He smiled back at her and she made grabby hands at the older driver. He laughed and went to hug her. She nuzzled her head into his crook between shoulder and head and sighed.

„You know, I don’t think Heidi would enjoy you snuggling like that with y/n“, Max made the remark, but Danny just showed him his middle finger and put his arms more around y/n. It was soon time to take the girl back to the hotel, but that was harder than it sounded. Her limbs were still not reacting at the same time and walking was a no go. Lewis and Fernando immediately backed out of carrying her to the car, reasoning with their age and their backs. So, Charles was the one volunteering to piggy back ride her to the car.

„It’s like she’s drunk. Has anyone ever seen her drunk, by the way?“, Carlos mentioned. „Oh, yes. Let’s get drunk, guys. Carlito, that’s a very good idea of yours, that’s why I love you so much“, y/n responded to Carlos question. Max started to laugh and got out his phone to record the conversation.

„Okay, let’s not address some stuff with her in the car, okay? Stuff that could make her cry, or bring stupid ideas to her head or any stuff like that“, Lewis said from the drivers seat, his head turning slightly to look at all his passengers. „Agreed“, said Fernando.

„Can we listen to some music?“, she whined. She was whining for everything, so you couldn’t really call it whining anymore. Fernando turned on the radio and Speak Now was playing. „Omg, Nando! It’s your girlfriend!“, she patted Fernando excitedly on his back. He just grinned and said: „Hasn’t she been linked with someone else now?“ - „Well yes, Matty Healy, that greasy singer from The 1975, but you were a much better candidate for mother.“

„Is it Taylor’s Version“, she asked. „What is Taylor’s Version“, Max asked. She gasped and turned around to face the Dutch driver. „You don’t know what Taylor’s Version means? Shame on you!“

The car ride was short and they were soon in the garage of the hotel. This time it was Daniel who was carrying y/n to her hotel room. Charles was still rubbing his shoulders, as she gripped him so hard, out of fear she could fall off. Until then, everyone on the grid knew about the girl getting her wisdom teeth removed. That’s why Lando, Oscar, Alex and Lily, George and Pierre were waiting in front of her room.

Fernando was the first one to notice the bunch and laughed out loud. y/n covered her ears, as she was still thinking that laughter is too loud and was hurting her head. Lily was the first one she noticed, so she sprung from Danny’s back and sprinted towards Alex‘ girlfriend. „Lily, hi, what are you doing here?“, for Lily it was hard to understand her, not yet having learnt what her gibberish meant. For the others in the car, it became noticeably easier the more she talked.

„Hi y/n, I heard about your wisdom teeth and I just wanted to check if you were good and if you need anything. But I see that you already have a bunch with you.“

The young driver nodded and hugged Lily once again. She looked at Lewis so he would open her door. He smiled and made his way through all the drivers. And as soon as he opened the door, y/n was on her way to lie on her bed. The others went one by one into her room and either sat on the few chairs or opted to sit on the floor. She soon was snoring slightly, y/n was out cold.

„So, how do we do this? We can’t all be watching her or can we?“, Pierre asked the group. „We can take turns“, suggested George. „I would probably go, I mean, we, right babe?“, Alex turned towards his girlfriend who nodded her head. „I just wanted to make sure she wasn’t alone, s‘all“, she said.

„We can take the first round, right mate“, Lando looked towards Oscar, who nodded at his teammate. „Okay, thanks guys, I think me and Fernando will be back in, let’s say, three hours?“, Lewis asked. „We can look after you guys, me and Carlos“, Charles said and everyone nodded. „Max? You and me?“, Daniel wiggled his eyebrows at Max who laughed in response. That only left George and Pierre, who were content that they were last, which meant, they had a high chance of not looking after the driver.

Everyone left, expect the two McLaren drivers. Lando soon set up his phone and would start recording everything when she woke up. She did after a 20 minute nap and was very confused where all her favourite people went. She started to cry and Lando tried hard not to laug. „Hey there, what’s wrong?“, Oscer asked the girl. „Where did everyone go?“

They explained the situation to her, but she didn’t stop crying. She wanted to drink something, but the last time she couldn’t hold the water in her mouth. „I can ask for a straw, maybe that’s better?“ Lando frantically searched for the phone to the reception. Unfortunately they didn’t have any straws. „Oscar, go to McDonalds or so and get a straw!“

„Lando, I love you so much, the things you’re doing for me“, she whispered and Lando almost didn’t understand her. Nevertheless, he was still touched.

She mostly slept, took some pain meds and slept again. It wasn’t really necessary to watch her anymore, but all of them still stayed. Even on the next morning, where most of the grid flew home again. Lewis accompanied her home and they facetimed Seb together. He’s seen all of the videos already - she doesn’t remember a thing. He was just glad that she was okay.

y/n said her hellos to Hanna and his two girls and cooked for Lewis - vegan of course. She was so glad to have all of her friends working with her, she wouldn’t know what to do without them.

°°°

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sunshine-zenith · 11 months

Text

A thought — Ballister and Ambrosius’s relationship probably wasn’t public in the movie until the end. They probably weren’t secretive about it, given how Todd (someone neither of them like or would confide in) was clearly antagonistic to Ambrosius after Ballister’s jailbreak, but even then that just might be because their connection was well known — they liked each other more than any of the knights liked them, most being neutral overall to Ambrosius and outright bullies to Ballister. No one in the public seems to know about them

Media perception is a reoccurring factor in the movie, with the opening scene giving exposition in the form of a news cast. During it, Ballister is shown to be controversial, with a there being a few comments questioning the Queen’s choices related to him. Ambrosius is also brought up as someone everyone’s looking forward to seeing officially knighted, with no one questioning his relationship with Ballister or even bringing it up

While everyone is fearing and hating Ballister after the Queen dies, Ambrosius is still popular among the masses — people stop him in the streets to get his autograph. Nimona, who admittedly probably didn’t do much digging into Ballister beyond the initial news reports on the Queen’s deaths, seemed surprised that Ballister and Ambrosius had a connection. She even had an “ohhhhhh” moment after picking up on their vibe the first time they saw each other post-arm chop (and yeah she initially calls Ambrosius Ballister’s nemesis, but she clearly clocks that something romantic was going on given the “arm chopping is not a love language!” comment). She also asks if he wants to die in a (literal) closet, which like. Y’all.

Before the Queen’s death, all their PDA is in private (on the catwalk) or subtly around other knights (helping each other put on their armor with lots of heart eyes and lingering hands). Otherwise, their interactions are those of Two People Who Are Close but aren’t necessarily explicitly romantic (Ambrosius wanting to throw hands on Ballister’s behalf, teasing each other, Ambrosius cheering with the crowd). Granted, there wasn’t a lot of screen time for them to just be happy before Everything Went Wrong.

We can’t really judge whether they were private from their interactions after the Queen’s death, since most are focused on a “so this traumatic thing happened and I don’t know where we stands right now” vibe or have them just fighting. The three times Ambrosius says he loves Ballister, one was just the two of them on the catwalk, one was in a mental rant and not actually out loud, and one was while they were trying to hide their identities. Ballister continues to defend Ambrosius, saying he’d believe them if they could just talk and that the arm thing is just “complicated,” “part of their training, up until Ambrosius outright tries to arrest them (which might as well be a breakup without saying “we’re breaking up”).

In the comic, the Director says she knew about their relationship and that she disapproved. Given how much she manipulates things, it wouldn’t surprise me if she knew in the movie, and encouraged them to downplay things at least — “you should keep your private lives private so you don’t taint your public images/yes we support you, obviously, but you’re here to protect the people, not show off to them/you don’t want to overshadow things with more controversy, wait a few years until after you’re knighted/what if this is just a phase, it would be a mess to clean up if you go public now/people will talk if they hear Gloreth’s only current descendant, a promising young man, is being courted by someone they aren’t certain about who comes from nothing and can’t pass your genes on/you have each other, shouldn’t that be enough?/etc.”

We don’t see them be in a relationship publicly until after the wall — the symbol of fear of the unknown, systematic abuse and oppression, refusal to learn and grow, and let’s be real homophobia/transphobia — comes down and the Director — the one going to murderous extremes out of fear of change — is dead

I dunno. This movie is a large celebration of being queer, but it’s also about how queer people are demonized by society to the point of everyone suffering. Ambrosius is the model minority everyone loves but no one knows because all eyes are on him; Ballister is both tokenized and targeted from the moment the public meets him, having to prove himself over and over until the public unquestionably turns on him entirely; and Nimona is called a monster for just being herself. All three already had to hide who they really were. I’m not 100% sure if Ballister and Ambrosius were out or not about being together, but it’s not a stretch to see, and it fits in with the themes/arcs of this movie

#this is a mess #nimona #nimona movie #spoilers #ballister blackheart #ballister boldheart #ballister x ambrosius #ambrosius goldenloin #the sun shines #meta #cy meta #long post #broke 100 #broke 500 #broke 1000

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 26 days

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Would I be the asshole if I refused to pay my phone bill?

📱🧾♿️ <- To recognize my post for later :)

The title is probably already a bit of a red flag, but I genuinely didn’t know how else to word it…

For context: I am a disabled, chronically and mentally ill trans guy who recently turned 20. I haven’t left home yet for a lot of reasons, some being that my parents promised to let me live rent-free so long as I was in college (which I am, just not currently for the summer) as well as the fact that they really haven’t raised me to be very independent and rely solely on them (which is honestly a whole other can of worms), but primarily because of my disability. It isn’t safe for me to live on my own, as I faint commonly, cannot stand up for more than maybe fifteen minutes at a time roughly, and sometimes am unable to eat for long periods of time due to debilitating nausea which leads to weakness. I also have severe chronic pain in my limbs and gut, something I’ve had most of my life, while my chronic illness I’ve only had for about a year and a half now and am still struggling to adjust to.

Because of my disability, I also can’t work a traditional job. I offer art commissions online, because I’m very passionate about art and it’s one of the few things I’m good at, and I haul in a decent amount, but certainly not enough to live off of. I make enough to set aside some good savings (I’m currently saving for a wheelchair, as that might grant me more freedom and the potential to get a job at least for the summer) while also indulging myself in buying the occasional fatty treat (I’m very underweight so that’s not an issue, and I was raised essentially in an almond mom household all my life, so this form of eating is really the only sense of control I have over my life, as I’m fully dependent on my parents elsewise).

The issue has come upon relatively recently. I feel like a huge entitled brat for it as well, and if others believe the same, I sincerely don’t blame you.

My mom sat me down the other day and said that she expected me to start paying at least one bill. She offered my cheapest bill (which would be for my phone; my parents bought it, and it’s theirs, they’re just letting me use it as my own.. I don’t own a whole lot of “my” items myself) and asked what I thought about that. I was fully honest with her: if I had a steady stream of income, I wouldn’t hesitate to offer to pay for all of my bills, but with the way it stands, I just don’t make enough month-to-month to regularly afford the bill. I also do my commissions through my phone, so if I could afford the bill, my phone would be turned off, and I’d be unable to continue.

My mom got very upset and started talking to me like a child (though she really has every right to, honestly, and I know that). She went on a very long rant about teaching me responsibility, and how I can’t rely on my parents forever, and that I need to grow up at some point… All things that I fully agree with. I sincerely want to! I want nothing more than to be fully independent. But the way it stands, my parents cover my entire medical bills and they pay for my meds… And I just don’t make enough to survive on my own, and I can just barely afford a meal or two from a sandwich shop I enjoy twice a month to keep my sanity in check because I’m usually bedbound.

I tried explaining to her that I would if I could, sincerely, and that I’m not trying to be a leech or lazy, but she wasn’t having it. She just scolded me and said that if I can afford to eat out every month, then I can afford the phone bill. But again, with the way things are, I don’t think I’d be able to do it every month without tapping into my savings, which again, is for my wheelchair so I can regain some sense of freedom for myself. I’m seriously debating just telling her no straight out, but I don’t know what the aftermath might look like…

So, sincerely: Am I in the wrong here? Should I just swallow my protests and cough up the money somehow? I really don’t know and would love an outside perspective.

#aita #am i the asshole

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pfhwrittes · 4 months

Text

retail hell reader is being bothered by an uncomfortably friendly customer and tf141 handle it in their own ways.

warnings: female!reader (she/her pronouns) isn’t being overtly harassed but you know when a man is being too interested and too friendly? its that. egregious use of scots as inspired by still game, pet names “love”, “hen” and “bonnie girl” used to refer to f!reader.

word count: 1.5k

pairings: kyle garrick x reader, john mactavish x reader, simon riley x reader, john price x reader.

each reader x named character interaction should be read as a standalone but i stuck them all together as they were too short to post individually in my opinion.

- -

this customer is making you nervous as fuck. you don't think you've been inappropriate with him in any way, just polite and friendly as you sorted out his refund. the problem is that he's massive, easily taller than simon by a couple of inches and he keeps looming over you blaming his difficulty understanding english as to why he keeps getting closer and closer. he's practically mounting the customer service desk to peer down at you (and you have a horrible feeling he's trying to get a look down your polo top).

you're beginning to panic so you do the only thing you think to do (which admittedly is pretty stupid looking back on it) and make your excuses to leave the customer service desk to find one of your friends. or at least find a colleague who will act as a witness if this guy gets any creepier.

gaz handles it like a champ. as soon as he spots the creep following you around he's there. arm around your shoulders and tucking you into his side at the kitchen consultant's desk. his customer service smile is fixed on his face and he refuses to even acknowledge this giant arsehole of a man, just keeps talking to you softly and shows you the kitchen he’s working on. kyle’s beautiful brown eyes only briefly leave your face so he can point out another favourite part of his design, he never once looks over at the creep. it works to soothe you, especially being so close to him. after ten minutes of being blatantly ignored, the creep walks off muttering under his breath. hopefully he’s left the store but unfortunately it’s around that time that kyle has a couple walk up to him asking him if he’s free for a drop in consultation. before he agrees he checks in with a gentle “you alright if i take this appointment, yeah? come straight back if that guy is still hanging around. i’ll deal with him.” he looks so serious you believe him. you reassure him that you’ll be fine and he gives your arm a gentle squeeze before you separate from his warmth already missing the slightly woody scent of his cologne. before you’re completely out of earshot you hear the couple cooing over how cute kyle was with you and his reply of “well, it’s not exactly hard when she’s one of my favourite colleagues…” and the fondness in his voice makes your cheeks heat up.

johnny nearly trips over you as you’re crouched behind the paint desk. “steamin’ jesus, what’re ya daein’ under there hen?” you hush him quickly and silently with a finger raised to your lips. you don’t want to speak because you know the giant is still out there looking for you, you thought you’d given him the slip near the paint brushes but then he’d rounded the end of the aisle so you darted for the relative safety of the paint desk. johnny crouches down next to you and whispers “are we hidin’ from someone? is it simon?” you shake your head and go to answer him but then your blood runs cold as you hear that familiar accented voice. “excuse me? i was wondering if you might help, i’m looking for the fräulein who was helping me?” johnny shoots a look at you and you squish yourself further into the corner of the desk hoping against hope that johnny won’t give you away. thankfully, johnny straightens up from behind the desk with his most charming customer service grin “sorry pal, i’ve no’ seen her. ‘s only me on the desk the day.” the creep sounds nonplussed at johnny’s thick glaswegian accent (you’ve certainly never heard it ramped up like that in all the times you’ve spoken with him) and a little crestfallen when he starts to reply with “oh, perhaps you’d be good enough to -” johnny interrupts him, voice still pitched in a friendly manner but you can hear an undercurrent of tension “naw, sorry pal. i’m busy pitin’ the hems oan the tins. is there anythin’ i can dae fer ye mixin’ wise?” there’s a moment of silence and you watch johnny’s smile slowly slip off his face, his lips thinning into a stern line. “ah, um. no thank you. perhaps she will find me.” the creep sounds a little nervous now if the uncomfortable laugh he lets out is any indication. “aye right. well i’d best be lettin’ you get oan then eh?” johnny shifts on his feet slightly so his calf brushes up against your arm. after another tense moment you hear the lumbering footsteps of the giant move away from the desk. johnny looks down at you with a mischievous grin, “i’ve got to say bonnie girl, you look a right sight down there.” you only feel a little bit bad when you punch him lightly in the leg and he yelps in shock as the blush on your cheeks spreads down your neck.

simon is less than impressed when you duck under the chain across the warehouse doors and flatten yourself against the noticeboard out of view from the shop floor. “you stupid? chains up which means the forklift is out so you need to be too.” he’s pissed off and thinking about how much paperwork he’ll have to fill out now because you didn’t bother to think about the cameras in your dash for safety. he takes a big step towards you before swerving off to the side to block the customer that has just appeared at the chain. “the fuck do you want?” he practically snarls. ‘this isn’t the fucking caff.” simon squares his shoulders and glares at the oversized dickhead that’s wasting his time. “well? can’t you fuckin’ read? staff access only. and you’re not staff so fuck off.” simon barks at the man, not letting him get a word in edgewise to start bitching about stock or whatever it is that he wants. simon couldn’t give a shit, he just wants the customer (and you) to fuck off promptly so he can start moving pallettes around. the customer just blinks and takes several steps back before turning away. you let out a shaky sigh and thank simon quietly. simon hums in acknowledgement and sweeps a critical eye down your lightly trembling form. “he botherin’ ya?” at your nod he hums again before jerking his head towards the back of the warehouse “go put a hi-vis on and sit in the office, i’ll come get you when i’m done on the ‘lift.”. when simon comes back into the office two paper cups of tea in hand thirty minutes later, you offer him a small smile and catch his lips twitch up briefly before he turns away to plunk his cup down on top of a cluttered filing cabinet.

price practically walks into you as you come flying around the end of the plumbing aisle. it’s unusual to see you so far away from the customer service desk and looking so flustered. “alright, love?” his hand is on your elbow as he asks. you crane your neck round to look behind you, too worried about that customer to enjoy his large warm hand on your bare skin. price straightens up and drops his hand away from you when he spots a customer behind you, in his opinion the customer is moving a little too fast to be considered casual. price bristles slightly when he catches the dark look on the gentleman’s face. oh no, he doesn’t like the look of this one at all. especially when you look at price and mouth “help” quickly. price steps forward and puts you at his back, blocking the creep from getting any closer. “can i help you, mate?” his gruff voice is just shy of sounding friendly and you watch his back muscles shift under the black polo top he’s wearing. “no thank you, i wanted to speak with the little woman some more.” god the customer is weird, you shudder a little at being referred to as a “little woman”. price shifts to block the customer’s view of you more fully as he does you notice the back of price’s neck has gone a little red. “not possible. i need her for a job.” price’s words sound like they’re being ground out through gritted teeth in response. “i’m sure simon would be more than willing to help you.” you jolt a little when you spot simon at the customer’s shoulder. a man shouldn’t be able to move so silently in steel toed safety boots. you catch a brief wince flicker across the customer’s face when simon’s hand comes down on his shoulder, slightly too hard to be entirely polite. “ah, um, yes. perhaps that’s for the best.” simon leads the customer away and you step up beside price to thank him. he looks deadly serious when he turns to face you “any time love.” his stern blue stare softens slightly and you’re sure you catch his gaze flicker to your mouth briefly before he clears his throat and turns away “c’mon then. back to the returns desk with you.”.

- -

AN: i have very much hidden from customers in the warehouse and behind the paint desk at B&Q. don’t be like reader (or me) and hide in the goods-in area, you will get shouted at for it.

translation for johnny’s scots: “pitin’ the hems oan” = putting the hems on, meaning to put something in order or to restrain something/someone.

#retail hell au #kyle garrick x reader #john mactavish x reader #simon riley x reader #john price x reader #f!reader #female reader #kg #jm #sr #jp #also i'm not saying that the creepy customer is that giant austrian cod guy but i'm not saying that he isn't *wink wonk*#everyone say thank you to early for bringing back my love of retail hell au

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sleepy-writes-stuff · 1 year

Text

(short continuation to the prompt I wrote, which is linked below. I thought I was done with this, but then @victoria-has-no-secret and @bluerosefox had some ideas to incorporate into it. Screenshots of said ideas are also below but are sprinkled throughout the post too.)

(*) = Me building off of other ideas

TW: mentions of animal death

← previous

✦

After the whole fiasco with the Justice League, Danny gets an idea. Not very many people actually know about Laika, at least from what he could see of the majority of the Justice League who had never learned about her. Although, to be fair, a lot of them come from different planets. Either way, it gives Danny the idea to create a YouTube channel starring Laika to teach the people of Earth about the pup.

The channel immediately garners attention from all around the world, and even winds up on a couple of news stations too! It grows so much that Danny decides to expand further than just Laika, but to the other things that were sent into space in the quest for knowledge: The space rovers as well as many other animals.

Laika even leads Danny to them as he ventures further into space with a specially made camera that can withstand traversing space and the differing atmosphereic conditions of other planets. He manages to find every single one of them, discovering that maybe Laika hadn't been as alone as he'd first thought as he watches and records her playing with the spirits (imprints?) of the rovers, chimps, mice, and many other animals haunting the endless void of the cosmos.

People back on earth are going wild with the knowledge that their hopes, thoughts, and feelings helped to give life to beings that had long been dead/stopped working. They have no idea what to feel about this new information except an amalgamation of pure awe, curiosity, joy, guilt, and sadness. They still mourned the loss of Laika, the rovers, and everyone before and after them, but knowing that their existence wasn't completely lost soothed an ache many didn't know they carried with them when they were there to witness the beginning of such astronomical leaps in technology.

To also know that out of the many stars shooting across the sky, one of them might be Laika happily racing amongst the stars with her friends brought many to tears. At every opportunity, they wished for the sweet pup's happiness and the continuing health of their own furry companions down on Earth with them. They also wished that upon the eventuality that they have to part with their companions that maybe a few of them would join Laika and her friends in stars to keep them company for many years to come.

Although many of these wishes were heard by Desiree, she refused to touch such hopeful and well-meaning wishes for fear of twisting them in unseemly ways, allowing them to form on their own. The other ghosts among Danny's rouges even made a deal with each other to not interfere or attack the town when Danny was recording his videos out in space.

It was beyond bad manners to interfere with another ghost's obsession, after all.

✦

I'm gonna go cry some more. I've learned more about the progress of space exploration in the past couple hours than I probably should. This is the last thing I'm adding onto this prompt. If any of y'all wanna continue it, be my guest!

Notes:

(*) One more thing to add. Where are the ghost hunters/Guys in White during all of this? If they start making a fuss over Phantom and all the ghost animals, do they get a bunch of civilians raiding their government facilities and causing them bodily harm? What's happening with the Justice League? Are they sitting back and eating popcorn while all this goes down? Who knows. :)

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ashboy-3 · 1 year

Text

Smash or Pass

Fandom: Danny Phantom and Batfam Prompt: https://www.tumblr.com/help-i-need-a-cool-username/719653067055906816/ashboy-3-please-tag-me-whenever-you-post-it?source=share Characters: Danny, Sam, Tucker, Jason, Batfam Words: 1908 Summary: Danny refuses to sleep and gets stopped by a reporter. Not fully knowng what she aks when questioning him about Red Hood Danny answers with a simple Smash. Now if only his crush Jason Todd would pick up on the social cues.

“So what’s the game tonight?” Danny asked, looking at the screen of the video camera to see Tucker and Sam staring back at him.

“Are you sure Danny. Isn’t it like ten over there?” Sam asked, worry clearly on her face.

“It’s not a good night for sleep Sam. Please. You two both have the day off, right?” Danny asked.

“Yeah we do dude. So I was thinking Smash or pass?” Tucker threw the idea out there.

“Oh that’s a good one. What should we do it on?” Danny asked.

“Super smash bros? It has Smash in the name?” Tucker suggested.

“Then we should totally do Pokémon!” Sam had an evil smirk.

“Oh you are both so on!” Danny quickly agreed as Tucker quickly found a full list online of the Super Smash bro fighters, sharing his screen and making sure to record, if anything for future black mail reasons.

“Alright first up Mario,” Tucker announced, both his friends knowing that he would rather be the impartial party and narrator while they have their fun.

“Pass.” Danny and Sam voiced.

“Donkey Kong.”

“Pass,” Danny quickly said.

“Smash!” Sam was quick to say as the two looked at each other.

“You want to smash a giant monkey?” Danny questioned.

“First off he’s a gorilla, second you can’t tell me that he doesn’t fuck,” she quirked her eyebrow at him.

“Fair enough,” Danny yielded holding up his drink to take a sip in her honor.

“Dude that’s water,” Tucker rolled his eyes.

“Don’t’ remind me. Who’s next!”

“Link.”

“Smash” Tucker rolled his eyes at his two friends.

“Sometimes you two are so predictable. Samus.”

“Pass,” Sam waved her off.

“Smash. Let her fuck me up, in or out of that suit!”

“Dark Samus?”

“Same,” they both agreed, to keep their answers from last time.

“Yoshi.”

“Smash!” Sam yelled out, Danny thinking about it before he to agreed.

“Why am I friends with you two? Kirby?”

“Pass,” Sam said as Danny thought abot it. “Yeah pass. I feel like Kirby is to innocent. And dude who else would you be friends with. Hit me with the next one!”

“Fox and Falco.”

“Pass on Fox smash on Falco,” Sam decided. “Pass on both,” Danny shook his head.

“How could you smash one but not the other? Their the same thing?” Danny asked.

“First off their not. I feel like Falco is more bad ass. Second, I don’t want to hear that argument when we get to pokemon.”

“Fair enough.” Danny agreed.

“Speaking of Pokemon I’m skipping them in this list since that’s our next list,” Tucker skipped the image of pikachu. They both passed on Luigi, Ness, Captain Falcon, and jigglypuff.

“I would so smash princess peach, daisy, and Rosalina. Line them up!” Danny cheered.

“Really Peach? I would only smash Rosalina. She at least had a story line,” Sam rolled her eyes.

“Bowser?”

“Smash the fucking hell out of me!” Danny cheered.

“Okay I know I’m a monster fucker, but are you sure you’re not one?” Sam asked him.

“I have never actually thought about it,” Danny shrugged. “But you still didn’t answer the question?”

“Of course, I’d smash Bowser. Pass on Wario, Waluigi, and Dr. Mario,” Sam rolled her eyes, a smile on her lips.

“Yeah, I can agree with that statement,” Danny shook his head in understanding. “We are passing on the ice climbers?” Danny asked.

“Of course!” Danny agreed. “and you know I’m smashing Sheik and Zelda!”

“Smash Sheik pass on Zelda.”

“You are aware that their the same person right?” Tucker asked her.

“I’m very aware. Sheik could kill me and Zelda is a broing princess. I know what I want in a partner.”

“point taken,” Tucker stopped his fight as he ended up pushing next multip times. Danny and Sam both agreed to pass on the fire emblem charctrers along with young link while Smashing Ganon.

“Mr. Game and Watch.”

“Pass,” Sam said quickly.

“I’d smash. I feel like he could give me a fun time. You saw how he handles that hammer. If I’m lucky he’d use it to pound me,” Danny smiled, making both of his friends laugh.

“You know Danny I agree with that statement and that’s why I’d smash meta knight.”

“To much armor for me,” Danny said, making Tucker snort.

They passed on the Pit’s, kept their same opinion on Samus and landed on Snake.

“Extra Smash!” Danny and Sam agreed.

They kept playing, ending pretty quickly with mostly passes. Danny wanting to smash Bayonets,, Ridley, and King Roll. Sam was agreeing with that list adding Isabella, claiming that she must have some evil dark side to her. This led the group to the pokemon list.

“Do we want to start with Gen 1? Or just go into chaos?” Tucker asked, knowing his friends answers as he got up the list for Gen 9.

“I’m being honest if it’s got three evolutions, I’m most likely not going to smash the first evolution. The second and third are still up for grabs,” Danny set down his rules.

“I can agree with that. So we passing on Sprigatto, Quaxly, and Fuecoco,” Tucker mumbled to himself, making sure to skip thoses options.

“I’m Smashing Floragato, Meowscarda and crocalor from the starters,” Danny stated.

“Chicken,” Sam snorted. “I’ll take your grass started and your fire second evolution and raise you a Quaxwell.”

“I feel like it’s only going to drown into madness from here,” Tucker groaned, knowing it’s not even midnight where Danny is yet and there are nine generations of pokemon.

“How can you not Smash Spidops!” Danny asked frantically.

“Are you kidding? All it does is shot webs. If I wanted to fuck something that shots webs I would fuck spiderman,” Sam rolled her eyes.

“You. . .bring out an excellent point, but I’m not changing my answer!”

“Smashing Arbolliva!” Sam slammed her hand on the desk.

‘Damn girl! I am right here! If you don’t want me then just say it,” Tucker teased her as Danny laughed.

“Smash. Samsh. Smash Ceruledge,” Danny was cheering, Sam cheering with him.

“You know it makes sense that the two of you dated in. highschool, but I can clearly tell why you two were never going to work,” Tucker observed.

“And why is that?” Danny asked, quirking his eyebrow.

“You have to similar of taste.”

“No way in hell you’re actually fucking Grafaiai. Sam do you just have a thing for monkeys or something? “Danny asked.

“I’m not the one who’s ready to throw a party for Toedscruel. I thought we agreed no judging?” She glared.

“Oh know we are judging. I think I’m the one who’s judging the worst,” Tucker laughed.

“That doesn’t count. You only have eyes for Sam. I can’t even recombed a person looks hot and fuckable to you without you saying Sam’s better,” Danny groaned.

“Yep and it’s nice to see that my girlfriend does not have the same standards for me,” Tucker was looking towards her, a playful smile on his lips. He knows she loves him and that he’s not being serious.

“Ah shit guys! I gotta go and get ready for class!” Danny said after hours of playing the smash or pass game. They did eventually make it through all of the Pokémon, but now it was 7 am and Danny had to run to get to campus and stop at his favorite coffee shop.

“Make sure you stay awake dude. If you need to skip class I can write you a doctor’s note,” Tucker said.

“I’ll be fine. I just really don’t want to sleep right now. I should be better by tonight,” Danny said bye to his friends, changing into a different shirt, making sure to grab his jacket, wallet, and keys before leaving his small apartment.

Danny loved living in Gotham, but sometimes the hustle and bustle of the city can be chaotic and stressful, especially on the days when Danny could possibly be late for class, sleep deprived, yet to have his coffee and some report is stopping him to ask him question.

“Opinion of Red Hood?” was the only thing Danny heard the reported ask.

“Smash,” was all Danny could think of as he quickly walked into the coffee shop to get his black coffee with 12 extra expresso shots. Did is taste good? No. Did it wake him up? Absolutely.

Danny didn’t realize the absolute chaos he had caused till he was back home from his classes, Sam and Tucker spamming him with memes of what he did.

Seeing no other option but to go along with it. He found the original clip that tucker sent him a link to, tunrs out the news station put it up on twitter, and re retweeted it with just two words. “I’m right.”

Meanwhile on the other side of Gotham Dick is dying of laughter as he discovered the most hilarious news clip on the planet and proceeded to send it to every single person in his contacts and to every group chat that he’s in, just in case he didn’t have someone’s contact number saved.

He even found the clip being retweeted by the same guy who claims that he’s still right with someone else tagging it #plsdon’tkillhimmr.redhoodsir.

He was making fun of Jason for it especially because turns out his brother knows the guy in real life.

“Grayson what does he even mean when he says smash?” Damain asked as Tim and Dick were making fun of Jason at the cave.

“I have to agree with Damain. The video makes know sense,” Bruce agreed.

“I’m not explaning this,” Tim quickly grabbed his coffee and walked out of the batcave.

“No it!” Jason declared running upstairs, face fully red, Dick not far behind him.

“Why is it always me,” Duke groaned as Bruce wayne lifted a questioning eye brow up at him.

“Please don’t make me explain it,” Duke begged, but sadly when Bruce Wayne wants to know something he will know something.

“Keep making fun of me for this and I will no longer show up to family dinner,” Jason glared at his older brother.

“Aww. You know you can’t avoid Alfred forever,” Dick teased.

“Shit you’re right,” Jason groaned, knowing he was going to have to put up with his brother’s teasing no matter what.

Before anyone knew it Wednesday was upon them, which meant that Danny and Jason finished their only shared class and walked out together to get lunch.

“So did you see your famous news clip?” Jason asked, not able to look Danny in the eye.

“Yeah. I swear this I say the craziest shit when I’m sleep deprived. I stand by what I said though,” Danny got up from the table to grab his order.

“You’re not worried about Red Hood finding out or anything?” Jason asked, seeing a chaotic look within Danny’s eyes.

“Jason, I want nothing more than for Red Hood to come and find me. Hopefully then I’ll get my wish,” Danny smirked up at him, hoping his friend would catch on to the signs.

“Well one can always hope,” Jason gave an awkward laugh as Danny sighed.

Jason may be a bat, but Danny has a feeling that he’s as hopeless as he is when it comes to picking up on romantic cues. At this rate, it’s going to take a miracle to get Jason to realize that yes Danny has feelings for him.

@help-i-need-a-cool-username @spookytragedyshark @weirdfishy @meira-3919 @akikkobara @yjfk@shorterthanadverage@mistyaltair @seraphinedemort@princessdaisysolosyourfaves@idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit@thatonegaybitch68@fuck-you-too-world@stargirl1331@blackrabbitt3t@staresatyoufromaccrosstheroom@f-theworld

I think that was everyone that wanted to be tagged. I personally feel like this could you a second chapter. If I ever do decide to do that then I would definitely add more Jason moments than just having him in here at the last moment.

#dp x dc #dp crossover #danny fenton #danny phantom #jason peter todd #jason todd #red hood #danny fenton x jason todd

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saerins · 3 months

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PREV: #004 THIS SPARK, IS IT REAL? 𖧧 #005 THE ICE SURRENDERS 𖧧 NEXT: #006 COMFORT IN FAMILIARITY ꒰ series masterlist ꒱

꒰ঌꨄ︎໒꒱ — the closer you get to itoshi sae, the closer you are to the part of it all that you’d rather skip: your mother, your problems, your baggage.

content: itoshi sae x female reader. fluff/angst. tw: reader’s mom—calls her a whore. profanity, verbal abuse, switching povs, jealousy, unrequited love, making out. word count: 9.6k

༝༚༝༚ sorry for the absurdly long wait !!! as you know i was sick and out of it for the past week so this chapter was difficult to get out :( but anw it's here :) gimme a while more for those of you who asked for extras hehe but i hope you guys enjoy this for now !! mwah ily

“who? that guy that you’re always reported with?”

bianca sighs, her bad mood more than obvious to her manager, who’s been with her for three years now. considering she’s been there since her career started, bianca’s not surprised she can tell her moods from just a single look.

“yeah, he’s been… cold lately.”

at least, bianca seems to think so. sae hasn’t been this cold to her since they first got close. she’s biting on her lips, staring at their message thread, her messages going unresponded for a while now.

“bianca, you like him, right?”

her manager’s question goes unresponded, bianca’s lips tightly sealed. but that’s enough of an answer for her.

“why don’t you just tell him? who knows he might like you too? you two spend a lot of time together for two busy people.”

the words give her hope, but it’s not very many. bianca had hoped that after at least a year and more of getting to know each other that maybe sae would start to feel something, anything. it doesn’t look like it. he’s never once initiated hanging out with her, and no matter how many times she’s bugged him for something as simple as, for example, wearing his jerseys, he wouldn’t even budge.

what if people misunderstand, his lousy excuse. isn’t that just another way to say he doesn’t even want it?

“are you sure he’s not just busy?” her manager asks again upon her silence.

sure, that is the logical train of thought. sae’s one of the best midfielders the world has ever seen. not even counting that, he’s beautiful—a face and body that many brands would want to invest in, want help to sell their brand with. it’s entirely plausible that he has a packed schedule, and bianca would think that, if not for the fact that he’s been acting weird lately.

sae always plans his sleep—that’s why he refused her invitation to meet with her friends that night, isn’t it? he was tired and wanted to sleep, but he showed up the next day looking exhausted, more than bianca’s ever seen. apart from that, he even followed that mystery girl from that night; bianca recognises you from your profile picture.

who are you, exactly?

bianca finds herself scrolling through your profile—she already has your username memorised somehow. you don’t post much, and you don’t really post anything with anybody, just things like scenery from work travels and activities like baking, and you’re not tagged in much either, except for this one girl named sumi. still, all she’s able to gather from you is your name and that you work at a sports magazine.

is that all you want from sae? interviews and favours?

it better be.

“anyway,” bianca’s manager sighs as she prepares to go home for the day, having settled everything else regarding bianca’s schedule. “you have the whole week free after tomorrow, you should go to japan and surprise him if you want. maybe take some of that anxiety off,” she suggests, noting that bianca’s face will be perpetually pouting if she doesn’t get to the root of her questions.

on the couch, bianca sits up, the idea registering in her head, grinning from ear to ear. “you’re right,” she agrees, immediately making arrangements to fly to tokyo. “i’ll do just that.”

she’ll go to tokyo, she’ll talk to sae and try to wring it out of him. if it really is nothing, then great, but bianca’s already planning her next course of action if it isn’t.

bianca doesn’t know who you are just yet, but one thing she wants you to get clear in your head: sae is hers and hers alone.

maybe not now, but one day she’ll make it happen. and until then, she doesn’t want anyone to cut in.

you blink and stare in shock as you see the heart on your screen. it must be accidental. has to be. sae doesn’t look like the type to send hearts. you shake it off, bringing yourself back down to earth.

it’s the next day after your drinking session with otoya and the others. your mind’s pretty hazy; you don’t really remember much especially on the later half of the night—you only remember taking a leap of faith and dragging sae into seven minutes of heaven with you. you’re sure you did nothing at all, except talk, but even what you talked about is pretty foggy. what you do remember is that he said he isn’t involved with anyone. you smile just thinking of it.

maybe it’s stupid, possibly falling head over heels for someone like sae who has many more admirers than you can imagine, but you can’t stop yourself from seeing the signs that he’s sending you.

just his texts are proof alone—you know he’s not someone who wastes his time on people he doesn’t see in his future. and you want to think that he’s not treating you like this over something as simple as pure friendship. but you don’t want to get your hopes up. you don’t think you’ll actually believe it until he tells you himself.

after all, there’s still the whole thing with bianca. even if he says he’s not involved with anyone, with the way all the other guys talk about her and sae, you can’t help but feel there’s something more there. but maybe that’s not something you have to concern yourself with for now.

yeah, because right now, there’s an even bigger monster that stands on the other side of your door, pounding on it like the world will end if you don’t answer her. her shrill voice is enough to give you headaches that could last a year, and her demands—even worse.

“i swear to god, y/n, if you don’t open this damn door before they get here i’m gonna kill you myself!”

four minutes now that you’ve been ignoring her. she hasn’t stopped to take a breath. it must be really urgent. she must’ve screwed up really bad. again. you’re pretty tired of it. you wish you’d given up on her already. sometimes.

there’s a stack of cash in your hands that you’re fiddling with. your hard-earned money. yours to supposedly spend as you please. supposedly. but what’s yours hasn’t been completely yours for a while now.

begrudgingly, you yank the door open, your eyes just short of a speck of anger—your mother’s wide eyes are much worse, not a speck of affection for her own daughter. you wonder why your own flesh and blood looks at you like that. you remember how kind sae’s eyes are; why can someone like him look at you like that while your own mother looks like… this?

“here. payment for this month, like i said,” you huff, nearly earning yourself a slap across the face again, except your mother’s holding it in. probably for a more appropriate time.

“not enough. need a bit more.”

you squint your eyes at her in disbelief. “you borrowed even more? we can barely afford—”

“then make yourself of use like your father was!” she cuts in, the disdain in her voice clear, like the day used to be. “really, all you need to do is not be a bitch by talking back and you can’t even do that. i should’ve aborted you when i got the chance.”

she spits those words out as if there was never a day that she loved you. she says them as if she was forced to have you. she storms off as if she has any right to demand you for anything.

you shouldn’t be abiding by them, but you can’t help it. the old picture of you and your parents when you were ten sits sourly at the edge of your study table, their once perfect smiles all smeared by recent memories, fading away as if they were just a fever dream.

“mom and dad will always love you, okay?”

is it a crime to want that loving woman back?

eita would be a good person to talk to about all this, given he knows a fair amount, but he doesn’t know how truly bad your mother’s gotten, and you’re not sure you want him to. you’ve burdened him enough, making him constantly worry about you even when he’s busy, and you’re not sure how much of it you can take from him without starting to feel guilty all over again.

and a part of you wants to warn sae that if he doesn’t want anything bad staining his reputation that he should stay away from you. but there’s the dominant part of you that wants to pursue what you want, without guilt or having to think about others, that wants to give yourself a chance at what makes you happy.

your mother has a tendency of taking them all away though. it wouldn’t be the first time.

for the first time, you find yourself wanting to count on someone other than eita, and for entirely different reasons. you’re texting the person who makes your heart beat faster without a second thought.

your fingers hover hesitantly over the send button. your mind plays the memories with shiro all over again. he used to give you the same feelings sae did. he used to make you think he was all green flags and clear skies and it’s eerily similar to what you feel now.

can you really trust yourself with this?

clumsily, your thumb deletes everything, putting in its place a lame excuse—i’m just feeling the monday blues kicking in early, save me.

maybe one day you’ll trust him enough to tell him about it. yeah, one day.

“why haven’t you told him yet?” eita asks you the next day, when you’ve given up holding strong in your house and decided to defect to his.

you’re out on his balcony, leaning against the back of the chair, enjoying the rare chilly weather of the afternoon. eita’s beside you, barely awake because he always sleeps in and today you just so happened to intrude on some of that time.

sae, for the most part, entertains you whenever he’s free, even now he’s still replying you. but no matter how good your life gets, you can’t get the ick of staying with someone who doesn’t really love you away. hence why you’re here, seeking escape once again. albeit in a different way than you used to.

although, with all the questioning you’re receiving, you think maybe you should’ve just toughed it out. still, you should’ve expected this topic to come up sooner or later. it’s not unreasonable for eita to get worried when you seem to be seeking him out more than usual anyway.

you sigh, it’s a headache that you’re too used to blocking out that when eita asks you about it you’re not too ready to answer him. “and say what? ‘hey, by the way, my mother’s a perpetual gambling addict who will ruin your entire reputation if word gets out at all’? no thank you.”

there’s a small pause when eita thinks your words through.

“what, you didn’t think of the same thing when hanging out with me?”

you look pointedly at him, arms crossed, wind swirling through your hair. “that’s different, we’re best friends, eita.”

eita chuckles, stretching his hand out and laying his head against it on the wooden table, staring at you. “what’s this now? so you got a crush on sae, huh?”

fuck. you curse at yourself internally when you realise what you’d just confessed to.

“didn’t know you two were even talking,” eita mumbles, maybe to himself with how soft he is right now. “guess it makes sense. that guy wouldn’t have taken care of you the whole night if there wasn’t something going on.”

you mirror eita’s position, looking back at him. “don’t tell me too much, but… is he like this with bianca too?”

yeah, you hate yourself for asking about that to someone who’s not sae, but you want to know what eita thinks. because unlike oliver and the others, you trust eita.

there’s a look that he gives you that you’re not too sure what to make of. it’s gentle, and a little unlike him that you might confuse him for actually being half-asleep and caught in his dreams. but he shrugs, looking away, “i mean, there’s a difference in the way he takes care of you two. if you ask me, if bianca asked him to stay he probably wouldn’t. if it came from you, i think he would.”

eita wants to do the opposite, lie a little and maybe turn you away from his friend. but it’s you. it’s someone he could never lie to. not anymore. and he’d rather stay your best friend than get blacklisted for lying to you.

he sees you heaving a sigh of relief.

“you really like him, huh?” he meant to say that in his head, but the words just roll off his tongue.

there’s a lot of other things you’d usually say to distract him and force a change in subject, but given how much you’re already keeping from him about how bad your mother’s really gotten, you feel like you owe him some form of transparency somewhere, as thanks for keeping you sane most of the time.

“yeah, i think so,” you say, the only hesitation in your voice coming from the fact that you’re not sure if you should be telling eita about this.

for his part, he isn’t falling apart. maybe because all along he knew somewhat that this day would come and that he still wouldn’t be ready, still wouldn’t be able to say he wants one person and one person only. but you’re already there. you’ve always been.

“first time you feeling this way?”

“eita, let’s not go there.”

“why not?”

you stop the conversation from going too quickly, regaining the balance. “so… it was true, then?” there’s a reason you say it in past tense. you hope it’s not still true, from a selfish perspective.

eita’s forced laughter is enough of an answer. he still graces you with an answer. “it still is, i guess.”

for the first time ever, the both of you are addressing this. a few years too late, admittedly, but considering you’re two people who hate being straight with each other about these things, it’s progress.

you remember the day the signs got too real to ignore. it was the day you ran. it was the day eita denied everything because he didn’t want you to but still lost you.

A FEW YEARS BACK

“yeah? you’re not gonna even tell me that things between us are off?” he spat, the frustration seeping through his voice, disdain on every syllable.

eita never used that tone of voice on you until that moment.

it was raining again. just like that night he first kissed you. you thought it would forever mean nothing, you thought it would be something comfortable—for the both of you. something with nothing attached.

“answer me, then. you really gonna date that fucker shiro of all people?”

eita was young, and his fame was steadily rising. he had multiple people throwing themselves at him, wanting anything he could offer and yet everything he was offering to you, you threw away.

not that you necessarily knew what was going on in eita’s head, but given how you were acting, you might have an idea. that was why, right? that was why you were pulling away.

there’s thunder, and dozens of cars passing by, rainwater covering the both of you from head to toe because eita saw you for the first time in weeks and he just couldn’t wait to talk to you any longer. you had been avoiding him for so long now, were you even friends anymore?

your normal cheerful expression was clouded over, your glare more than enough warning that he shouldn’t be doing all of this but eita wasn’t going to stop no matter what. not until he got everything out. he was going to wait until you responded to him because you were apparently so fucking good at avoiding people.

“and how is that any of your business?”

eita barely recognised the person talking to him. since when did you learn to hate him that much?

“oh, i’m sorry, i must’ve missed the fucking memo that we weren’t talking or fucking anymore,” eita spat, the sarcasm dripping off his tongue something he used to use on everyone but you. not now, though. he was too angry for that.

you scoffed, walking one, two steps forward, both of you just an arm’s length apart. “then hear this, eita: we’re not fuck buddies anymore, and i have a boyfriend, so just stay away, okay?”

there were multiple voices in his head screaming not to say what he wanted to say at that moment, screaming at him that he would regret it, but he didn’t listen. his eyes wide, a sneer on his face; he was determined to look more vindictive than you were right then. “oh wow, y/n, didn’t know you were such a slut like your mom, giving it to whoever has more moneybags,” he mocked, more than aware of the hurt in your eyes but his temper was bad, and he couldn’t stop himself. “you know what? maybe you deserve all this shit, then, since you’re the same.”

the slap you gave him that day was the second hardest you’d given him in your life, maybe because a part of you was too distraught hearing those words from him that you weren’t in your best condition. that, and maybe the rain. but you ran away crying, as much as you tried to hide it. but eita had been in this position before, had seen what you looked like while running in the rain with tears in your eyes though you tried to mask them as the rainwater. you never liked to cry in front of him, and you never did.

and then, he was the reason you cried. the one person who you thought would never do that.

that night, as you ran straight into your boyfriend’s arms, you thought maybe you deserved it for not being able to deal with other people’s feelings properly. it wasn’t eita’s fault for having emotions, and it most certainly wasn’t his fault that he didn’t want to tell you about it. but you could feel it.

you felt it in the way he tried to hold your hand while walking alone. you felt it in the way he tried to hug you to sleep after he fucked you senseless. you felt it in the way he wasn’t seeing anyone else anymore. it wasn’t that you didn’t care about him, but with everything that was going on, emotions aren’t such a simple thing that you could handle, after all. especially if you didn’t feel the same way.

it was supposed to be a pair of best friends, using each other, nothing more and nothing less and you couldn’t take the heat when you felt eita wanting more. maybe you should’ve done it differently. maybe. and it was funny that you could tell how he felt about you yet at the moment, you couldn’t tell if he meant what he said.

and maybe if you knew better, you would've asked. no, if you knew better, you would've talked to him about it.

but it was all too late.

PRESENT

“oi, snap out of it.”

eita’s normal snappy voice brings you back to where you are, in his balcony sitting and supposedly enjoying the view, because when you’re high up here it almost looks like you have no troubles in life—at least, not the ones you have.

“look, i’m not gonna ask you to ignore what i just said,” eita says, sighing before he looks you straight in the eyes, his green irises much warmer than they used to be. “but can i ask you a favour?”

it takes you a while to respond, only because you can’t tell what he wants from you. your mouth opens slowly and carefully, “what?”

eita scoffs, and this time it’s not in disgust and you can tell. you can tell his mannerisms a lot better now. maybe because you’re both adults, and more transparent. maybe because you both had already lost each other once and know what that felt like, and maybe you both don’t want it to happen ever again. you don’t really know about him, but to you, no one can replace him in your life. his presence is too significant for that.

“stop looking at me like i’m a lost puppy.” he’s scowling now, downturned lips softening just a little, into a pout.

you snort, containing your laughter. perhaps you’d been thinking a little too much about it that you’re starting to look at him with pity. “yeah, okay.”

“that isn’t the favour.”

“then what is?”

he carries a straight face as he talks to you now, his fingers coming up to flick you softly on the forehead. he’s always felt like family to you. sometimes you wish he was. and for his end, he looks at you, knowing that the emotions he has will forever go unreciprocated, and yet he can’t stop being dumb by trying anyway. he knows, already, just by looking at the difference in the way you treat sae, in the way you look at him. you’re so smitten, and if eita even stood a chance, you would’ve been together already. and sometimes he wonders if what he said that night was what pushed you over the edge, was what solidified him as nothing more than just a friend with a temper too harsh sometimes that you didn’t want to count on even if you had no one else.

there was a fault he could find in the way you pushed him away. but there’s more that he can find with himself for saying what he said to you. he still counts himself lucky you never held a grudge with him over that.

eita chuckles under his breath; he can’t believe he’s about to say something so corny but he doesn’t know how else to tell you. “i kinda don’t want our friendship to change,” he explains, and he has to look away because if you’re going to run away again, he doesn’t know how he’ll take it. you’re about the only person who knows every single side of him. sides he doesn’t normally show to people. “so… don’t fucking run away again, or treat me differently just ‘cause you know how i feel. that just makes me feel fucking pathetic.”

because he knows you only pushed him away since you couldn’t reciprocate. you weren’t a slut, and you surely didn’t deserve any of your unfortunate circumstances—nothing he said that night was true. you only had good intentions, and the words that came out his mouth were only bad.

even until now, he hadn’t apologised.

yet here you are. smiling in front of him, for him, because of him. despite everything shitty going on in your life, here he is, asking you for a favour. and you’re nodding your head, preserving the friendship that you needed to stay a friendship, just like you’ve always been.

“okay, i promise,” you say, a childish smirk on your face as you hold your pinky out, to which he obliges and hooks his own around.

“you’re so dumb, i wonder what he sees in you,” eita sighs as he yanks his pinky away.

you’re laughing, the earlier bad memory already whisked away by the sunlight hitting your face. “who?”

“sae.” you freeze on eita’s words, but eita does you a favour and pretends he doesn’t see, doesn’t tease you about it. he wants to know about all of this, even if it’s just from the jealous perspective of being the throwaway option. “he treats you like…”

“like what?” your voice quivers a little, because you’re nervous. you always are when it comes to itoshi sae, somehow. (you won’t admit that right in front of the man himself though, too embarrassing.)

“like he likes you.” eita has to swallow the lump in his throat. it sucks to be talking to you about this, to possibly be talking this guy up, but he knows you need a friend. and he knows you don’t open up easily, so he has to be your best option. eita looks at you out of the corner of his eye, wondering if you’d open up a little bit more.

there’s a faraway gaze in your eyes. “eita?”

“yeah?”

this time, that gaze focuses on him, a warm, sad smile on your face. looks like the pity hasn’t fully worn off, but he’ll excuse it this time.

“thanks,” you say, so softly.

looks like you aren’t really ready to talk about it yet. eita rolls his eyes jokingly; trying to be just a best friend seems pretty hard after all. “stop being a sappy piece of shit,” he groans, earning a giggle from you.

somehow it feels nice, being able to take away some of that pain, even if just for a small moment. though, maybe you’d have an easier time around sae, if you would just learn to open up.

“and hey, if you’re still too scared to tell him about any of it, you can still find me, ‘kay?” he tells you, and you nod appreciatively. you probably just see him as a big brother by now. “and if your mom’s still giving you trouble, come by anytime, i’ve been too busy nowadays to bring anyone home anyway.”

you gasp, acting shocked. “oh really? wow, a changed man.”

“mhm mhm, i just fuck ‘em in the club.”

your playful jab on his arm comes faster than it usually does.

you wonder if you can ever repay eita for everything he’s done for you—be your punching bag, letting you stay at his house rent-free sometimes, accidentally ruin his date night others. you think of how he feels about you and you think probably not. you probably can’t ever repay him for how much sanity he’s given you back when you were at your lowest. so maybe you’ll start by not running away this time.

but your mind drifts to his words. you’re going to have to tell sae some time, but you know how it turned out the last time you told someone with such a high status about it. you remember how shiro turned out to be a wolf in sheep’s clothing, how his warm demeanour changed when it suited him, how he used everything to lord over you.

you wonder if sae will be the same. you don’t even know if these feelings are fleeting or not. are they even worth it?

is sae going to be worth a try? or is he just going to turn out just like shiro?

yeah, you’ll take your time telling him. you want to get to know him, so it’s hypocrisy from your end, but if he’s a good guy, he wouldn’t mind waiting—that’s what you tell yourself, because like hell do you want him to know about your family as you are now. pathetic, scrimping from paycheck to paycheck, desperately clawing your way up into a normal class. next to him, you’re too inadequate.

but then, why is your gut telling you otherwise?

sumi comes bounding in on monday morning, straight to your desk after her morning meeting with the boss. she looks exceptionally happy today, her eyes beaming bright and her smile nearly infectious.

“i swear to god, i think my hard work is paying off!” she exclaims excitedly, careful to keep her voice down even then. she bites on her lower lip, suppressing a grin when she passes you a proposal she’d done up.

on the first page, it’s titled as such: proposal, by suzuki sumi. when you flip to the second page, you’re overwhelmed by a huge close-up picture of one of the top players in soccer right now—isagi yoichi. she giggles when she sees your face contort in surprise, nodding in excitement.

“let’s just say, thanks to a friend of a friend, i managed to talk to isagi at the airport and he personally agreed to do an interview with us,” she proudly explains, answering your unspoken questions. she’s already happily chattering away about her plans for when his interview’s booked—which you learn is still a few weeks away, and may be delayed depending on whether his schedule has any last minute changes.

“that’s lucky,” you comment, passing her proposal back to her. there’s pages and pages of meticulously planned questions and interview segments, along with possible video footage they could do to add onto the company’s youtube account. sumi’s obviously enthusiastic about all of this, more than you’ve ever seen her since you first spoke to her.

it’s nice to see sumi finally happy for once, given how hard she’s been working at this company. she’s the first friendly face you saw when you first came here anyway, and had it not been for her, your work life probably wouldn’t feel as warm as you do now.

“i know, right?” she sighs, content, dreaming about how the interview would go already, about how happy the boss will be with her once their numbers skyrocket. after the lifeline you threw for them by somehow getting to know itoshi sae, it’s been hard for anyone else to keep up. she smirks at you, “remember what i said on your first day here?”

sumi had said a lot of things, actually. most of which were mostly gossip and not actual work, but you can guess what she’s hinting to. “yeah, that it pays to have connections, right?”

you remember those words, only because you’d unintentionally thought back to eita once she’d said them. your attention flits back to sumi, who looks wantonly relieved—she must’ve really been worried for herself then, considering how bad the job market is right now. she never told you, but you could sense she’d been worried about her performance, and whether or not she’d get enough bonus this year to have that dream wedding she’d always cooned over.

“mhm, and you have two indispensable ones yourself,” she points out, winking, taking a sip of her coffee. “otoya eita and itoshi sae, while i’ve just now gotten isagi yoichi.”

she spends the later part of the morning texting you about how she’ll need your help to pull it off, while you juggle work, sumi and apparently sae at the same time, because for some reason, he’s gotten real chatty over the weekend. not that it’s unwelcome—it’s a pleasant surprise.

right, because when you’re out with sae, who has a heck of a pr team—people who make sure to keep him in line, you’ll have to be careful. you can’t let just anyone see you out and about with him, not when he has a ton of crazed fans who would probably butcher you just for dating rumours. your mind drifts off, wondering how bianca deals with it. though, considering she comes from a long line of famous figures, you guess she’s used to it, having to grow up with all that attention around you.

you look at the clock—it’s around ten minutes till your work day ends. your heart speeds up at the notion of seeing him again, even if it’s only been two days since you’d seen him last. you wonder how you’re going to survive if he has to be away for months at a time for his games if you’re already yearning to see him this much now. shaking the feeling off, you straighten up, retreating to the bathroom to freshen up before you go.

at the same time, parked in the corner lot, sae stares at the caller ID on his phone as it vibrates, surprised. he picks it up, wondering why she’s calling when it’s probably late wherever she is.

“hey, it’s your favourite girl,” bianca’s voice squeals over the line. “guess what?”

“what is it?” sae is, for the most part, not too surprised. bianca has a habit of calling him a lot of the time. more and more frequently nowadays. he wonders why.

“i’m in japan right now,” she reveals, giggling, and sae finds a bad feeling dawning over him. “pick me up? i just got to the airport.”

“sorry, can’t pick you up tonight.”

“what? i thought you’re gonna be in japan for a while.” he can just hear the disappointment in her voice.

“yeah, but i’m busy now, so…” sae trails off, not knowing exactly if he should say anything about you.

“oh, with the guys? you could just skip out on—”

“nah, it’s with someone else,” he settles for, wondering what the sudden silence from the other end of the line means. he’s not sure he wants to find out right now, so he’ll have to talk to bianca some other time. “i gotta go—”

“are you going on a date?” bianca’s tone seems more inquisitive than he’d like, but her question has him thinking.

is this a date?

bianca stays silent as he ponders about it, waiting with bated breath because this is the first time in two years that sae had ever rejected her request, and judging by how he’s struggling, he’s undoubtedly meeting a girl. is it you? she curses under her breath as she pushes her hood over her head, determined not to let anyone see her sweat right now.

“yeah,” sae says, the decision coming to him as soon as he sees your familiar face approaching, that polite little smile on your face. “i’ll talk to you later.”

indignant, bianca exhales sharply, her temper taking over her as she huffs a “don’t bother” into the receiver before hanging up.

sae looks down at his phone, staring at her name on the call log. he makes a mental reminder to check in with her later, but for now, he shoves that thought aside—tonight, he’ll focus on you. just you.

and when you effortlessly command all his attention by slipping into the passenger seat all too naturally, he thinks that whatever ripple effect this may cause may be worth it. for him. and now, it’s his mission to make it worth it for you too.

“so,” you say, all sparkly-eyed as you look at him excitedly. “where are we going tonight?”

you thank god that you decided to dress up a little more today when you see that he’s taking you to another high-end place. this time, it’s on a rooftop of a five-star hotel, with views overlooking the tokyo skyline; a view you never thought you’d actually see in person.

it’s breezy enough up here that it’s not too stuffy, and there are step lights and string lights all around the venue but they’re dim enough as to not reveal sae’s face too much. (not that anyone hear even bothers to look at anyone else passing by, all too engrossed in their hushed conversations.) you notice he’s always handsome no matter what he wears—and today it’s a black button-down shirt with black pants, a casual dark jacket hanging over his shoulders. your eyes linger over the little bit of his chest that you can see; you can tell he’s muscular under there.

“distracted much?”

sae’s voice startles you, and you can see him smirking a little as if he knows what you’re thinking. your cheeks heat up a little, acting coy. he’s reaching a hand out, probably something you didn’t notice while you were deep in your thoughts, and you take it, letting him lead you slowly to your seats.

as you take a seat and the waiter hands you the menus, your eyes flick up, looking at the man across from you. he reads the menu silently, and you notice the sliver of black ink that extends across his palm. it takes all you can to suppress a grin.

“i can always give you another one anytime, you know?”

for some reason that you probably know, sae catches on to what you’re talking about pretty quickly, the dim lighting failing to conceal the way his ears turn red. “so you like giving me hearts?”

you don’t miss the slight teasing in his voice, having to conceal your own nervousness. “i think you’re the one who likes receiving them,” you quip, hiding your face behind the menu.

there’s a rustling noise, rousing your curiosity and making you put the menu down. sae doesn’t respond to your earlier comment but he does give you a tiny smile, putting a two-pack of macarons on your side of the table. he must’ve taken it out of his pocket while you weren’t looking.

“what’s this?”

“macarons,” he shrugs, though you’re not really asking that. he picks up on it. “i was in paris for some event over the weekend. thought you’d wanna try that.”

(sae looks at your reaction as you pick the small bag of mini macarons up, eyes staring at it in awe. he thinks maybe you recognise the name on the plastic—it’s the name of the most popular bakery in paris. it costs a lot more than he thinks macarons should, but when he sees the subtle smile on your face, it’s definitely worth the price tag.)

you’re not so big on surprises, especially when your mother loves giving you some on the daily, but this is the kind of surprise you like. the kind that makes that incessant vibrating in your purse worth it. the kind that trumps your want to be in control.

and even throughout dinner, sae keeps surprising you. maybe it’s just that you’ve never experienced much, or that you never expected much from him, but every little thing he does seems meaningful to you. the way he makes sure to ask if you don’t like to eat certain food before ordering, the way he drapes his jacket over you when the wind picks up, even the way he slowly leans across the table to clean the stray crumb off your face with his finger.

every gesture seems to tell you something—something that you don’t dare to think of because you’re scared that it’s not true, that you’re the only one starting to fall.

“you know, if you’re constantly like this around girls, no wonder there’s always dating rumours with you,” you huff, too afraid to ask him directly.

but sae always manages to decipher your intentions somehow. he tilts his head, earnesty dripping from his words, “whatever ‘this’ means, i’m only like that with you.”

it doesn’t do your heart any favours, making it pound a million miles an hour because whatever sae’s confessing to here wasn’t on your bingo card for the day.

“itoshi sae, you’re too much.”

“sae.”

“huh?” you look up at his face, only to see him averting his gaze as he turns to look at the skyline, the wind rippling through his soft pink locks.

“call me just by my name.”

you swallow the lump in your throat, gaze dropping to the table. it’s not like you purposely didn’t, but the fact that he’s asking you like this, like he’s being needy about it, heightens your emotions so much more.

his fingers find their way across the table again, this time to your chin, tipping it up, urging you to look at him. “say it.” it’s not commanding, or mean, or forceful, and his fingers are gentle, even his gaze and his intentions.

“sae.” his name rolls of your tongue slowly, and the way he smiles at you after that makes you feel inexplicable, knowing that you’re the reason he looks like that.

he doesn’t even say anything about it, just a smile in acknowledgement before he says he’ll go and pay the bill. you stare at his back as he goes, the contrast in your lives very apparent at every instance he takes you out—because it’s always fancy and expensive with him, a world you know nothing of, a world you once thought you’d never experience in this lifetime.

yet here you are, experiencing it thanks to him. you wonder if you’ll still get to once he knows about your family. he’s sort of a celebrity, right? there must be things he cares about that won’t line up well with your situation.

yeah, you don’t think you’ll ever get that out of your head. not until you ask him about it.

and you’re tempted to—especially with the vibration you’re constantly feeling tonight. taking the opportunity while sae’s away, you fish your phone out of your purse, picking the call up reluctantly, only because you’re mildly curious what else your dear mother could possibly want from you.

“you ungrateful little whore—”

“what do you want?”

yeah, you know you shouldn’t have picked it up. you really shouldn’t. and you don’t even know why you were even mildly worried that it might be your mother in danger and needing your help when she clearly wouldn’t do the same for you.

you hate yourself the most out of everyone. you knew clearly you shouldn’t have picked it up. and now your mother’s on the other line, cussing you out for ignoring her all night. then going on about some cruise she’s going on next week and how she found a secret stash of cash that you’re keeping in the kitchen cupboards, how you’re going to get it from her for hiding it and how kind it is of her to even warn you in the first place.

it’s fine.

you kept it there to distract her from your real money, safe in the bank. if she thinks she’s stealing all you have, it probably won’t cross her mind that you still have any. she doesn’t even know you’d worked multiple jobs back in university, only thought you were good for hooking up with men and purposefully disrespecting her.

a hand around your shoulder makes you jump back in shock, your eyes greeted with sae’s own.

“everything okay?”

“y-yeah, it was just a scam caller,” you lie, immediately hanging up and stuffing it back in your pocket.

as you clamour on about how both of you should really get going, sae catches the way your fingers tremble ever so slightly, how your lips threaten to downturn—are you about to cry?

but when you turn around and force a grin, joking about how you’re going to pull a dine and dash on him, he knows you won’t. whatever’s bothering you—you’re locking him out of it. he doesn’t like it, but can he even complain?

and when the both of you are back in the car, the night feels strangely short somehow, and sae reluctantly pulls out his gps. “what’s your postal code again? i’ll drive you back.”

there’s a short pause before you offer him the string of numbers, and sae’s brows furrow when he keys it in. “you’re heading to otoya’s?” he asks. he knows you two are close, and have been, but this sinking feeling in his heart is not something he’s familiar with.

you bite on your lower lip. you don’t want him to have any false assumptions, but you’re not exactly ready to tell him the truth either—that you’re just running from your problems, that eita’s house is the only other space you have.

“are you… still involved with him?” sae asks, voice soft, looking away like he did earlier.

it reminds you of that night you got drunk. you remember how you needed to know. so you figure maybe you owe him the same. “i’m not involved with anyone,” you tell him, smirking. but he looks at you like he’s waiting for more and you remember too, what you want to hide from him for now. “i just—i don’t have—”

“hey, you don’t have to say anything,” sae cuts in, the slight quiver in your voice enough indication that this isn’t something you’re prepared to say. he’s known that for a while now. “you just can’t go home, right?”

you’re more than a little grateful that he is the way he is, that he doesn’t force anything out of you like shiro used to. “yeah,” you admit, awkwardly looking away. “i usually just stay at eita’s until… i’m ready to go back.”

there’s an awkward silence that stretches on for a while before sae concedes to it. “you could stay at mine.”

did you hear that right?

you furrow your brows. “what?”

sae’s mouth hangs open for a while, like he’s trying to figure out what to say. “i could drive you to otoya’s if you prefer that. but… if you wanna stay at mine, that’s fine too. i have a couple extra rooms, you could just pick one.”

what you actually wanted to hear was why he’s willing to do that for you when he hasn’t even known you long, but you hold your tongue. there are doubts in your head—like privacy issues since he’s a celebrity, and rumours if you ever get caught entering or exiting his house, and what exactly does he see you as?

but there’s the selfishness part of you that wants to go for it. and you listen to her.

“then, can i stay over? just one night so i won’t intrude too much,” you assure him, being polite because you’re scared you’re overstepping your boundaries. or that he’ll think you’re a creep even though he’s the one that invited you.

sae can’t help but snicker, and you can’t help but stare as he rests his head against the steering wheel, staring at you. “are you interested in me, y/n?”

you pout, because he’s hit the nail on the head, the embarrassment flying to your head. “okay you know what? if you’re gonna joke about it just take me to eita’s—”

this time sae bursts out laughing, and you feel even more mesmerised; it’s unfair how easy it is for him to do that.

“okay okay, i won’t say that anymore,” he appeases you, hand coming up to ruffle your head. “and feel free to stay as long as you want.”

“i’m gonna steal your jacket, by the way, since you like to joke around so much,” you huff, though sae only chuckles at whatever you say now.

“sure, take whatever you want.”

“and you’re buying my necessities.”

“for when you’re at mine? sure.”

“sae, one day i’m gonna kill you.” because he’s still laughing, obviously getting a kick out of your earlier embarrassment.

“you can’t do that.”

“and why not?”

and sae’s face immediately leans forward, just inches away from you. he’s so close you can feel his hot breath against your cheeks and it makes your heart do somersaults in your chest.

“then i won’t be able to give you that kiss you asked for.”

your breath catches in your throat, sae coming closer ever so slightly, his gaze falling to your lips for a split second before he shatters your hopes by pulling away, setting the gps to the nearest convenience store. but he doesn’t drive off just yet.

not before he makes sure to look at you one last time, that dazed look on your face, his thumb and pointer finger coming up to pinch your cheek gently, leaving an imprint of himself in your heart.

“come on, we’re here.”

after a half hour of poking around the convenience store and getting whatever you need (you also had to stealthily creep some disposable underwear in your basket and make sure sae didn’t see them when paying), you arrive at sae’s apartment—nestled in one of tokyo’s most luxurious neighbourhoods. a far cry from your own.

he carries your bags for you, leading you to his unit, straight at the top, on the thirty-second floor. his is the corner unit, and he gestures for you to walk in front of him.

“1-0-0-9,” he tells you, both hands full.

“huh?”

“the combination, it’s 1—”

“no, i heard you,” you interject, a little exasperated. “but you shouldn’t just hand the passcode out to anyone.”

“i don’t,” he assures you, saying it matter-of-factly. “i trust you.”

you hurry to key in the code, so easily flustered by the way he seems so willing to tell you anything. “then don’t blame me if one day you come back home to find the place ransacked,” you jokingly warn him.

sae conveniently ignores that comment, placing your items in one of the spare rooms nearest to the living room. as you walk in, you marvel at how spacious and clean his apartment is. it’s all cold marble floors and high ceilings, and you can already tell it must be so nice in the day with all the natural lighting flooding in here. the wide windows must let all the sunlight in, must be much brighter during the day than yours is.

you follow him as he tells you where everything is; the spare room right next to the living room, the toilet across from it, the kitchen right next to the balcony exit, accessible from your own room. his apartment is so huge it makes you wonder if he ever feels lonely in it.

in the living room, you see multiple pictures in frames, most of which you assume are probably his family. you recognise rin, present in most of the pictures. they look happy, at least. there’s also one with eita and the others, and some others you don’t recognise. none of bianca or any other girls, you note.

“all good?” he asks once he’s done with the mini tour.

you nod apprehensively, still tense about the fact that you’re staying the night at his place. “yeah, i’m just gonna wash up first.” you don’t even let him say anything before you’re bounding off into the spare room he gave to you, trying to calm yourself down because it never hit you until now that you’re really here, in sae’s place, ready to make yourself at home when you’re not even anything to him. though, you really hope that there’s something.

“calm down, y/n, just gotta take a shower and you’re good as new,” you whisper to yourself, calming yourself and taking deep breaths.

outside, sae’s gaze lingers on the door to your room, your shadow visible from the bottom gap of the door as you move about. he can’t even come up with a good enough reason to tell himself why he bothered to let you stay here, except maybe that he selfishly didn’t want you to stay with otoya.

is that bad?

before he can ponder anymore about it, the door to your room opens and you sheepishly walk out, a grin on your face as you approach him. “so… i forgot something.”

and now you’re going to ask him for it.

“what is it?”

“i swear i didn’t forget on purpose, okay?” you’re pouting, and he finds it mildly adorable. “could i borrow some clothes?”

sae nearly bursts out laughing just from how nervous you seem. though, from how you’ve been every time you saw him, from his hat to his jacket and now you’re asking for his clothes, he can see why you’re a little nervous.

“do you always forget around otoya too?” he means that redundantly more than anything, just a passing comment, but you answer anyway.

“well, i always just wear his jerseys.”

you really were just answering honestly, but the way sae grips your wrist and guides you to his closet is almost comical. you allow yourself to think that he’s doing this out of jealousy, the butterflies in your stomach fluttering as you follow him.

“you have a walk-in closet?” you gape, looking at the sheer size of it. it’s nearly as big as your entire room.

“take whatever you want, my jerseys are in there,” sae says, pointing you to the sliding door closest to you.

that’s how you end up coming out of the showers a half hour later, dressed in his national jersey, his name in block letters at the back. you’d take a picture just to savour it, but you’d like to think that hopefully this isn’t the last time you’ll get to wear it.

when you come out, sae’s already washed up, probably has his own bathroom in that big bedroom of his. his hair’s wet, dripping onto his thin white t-shirt, eyes finding your gaze as you walk towards him and bow deeply. you’re a comfortable distance away from your mother, phone switched off and discarded into one of the drawers in the guest room, only because sae was kind enough to let you stay. for multiple nights even, if you want to.

“thank you,” you tell him, and it’s for more than just tonight, more than just dinner and a shirt and a bed to sleep in. somehow, ever since you’d met him, he’s been there for you constantly, even if he doesn’t mean to be. it still counts for something, you think, because you can’t even remember the last time you felt like a giggly high school girl having a normal crush even if it’s on a not-so-normal person.

“not gonna ink it on my skin now?” sae teases when you straighten back up, and you roll your eyes.

“don’t blame me if you wake up with a dick drawn on your face.”

“is that what you want?” sae asks you, and you get the feeling he’s not even invested in your quip, his mind elsewhere.

sae’s face is right in front of yours, like so many times before now, it feels like. it makes you think you’re not that delusional, that he could feel just the same as you do—excited, tired, confused.

“i already told you what i want,” you whisper, and you would probably kill yourself if you were thinking clearly for being so open and vulnerable in front of him right now, but then it doesn’t matter.

none of it matters when his lips are on your lips and you can taste the mint lingering on his tongue, when you can feel the way his hands find purchase on your hips, pulling you closer, but gently, like he’s trying not to seem too eager but so close to failing. his hair tickles your face, the way he keeps coming back for more leaves you breathless.

your arm comes up behind his neck, keeping him close. his kiss makes your mind hazier than any alcohol can, his grip falling to the back of your thighs, your lips still connected as he lifts you up onto the counter of the kitchen, his body nestled comfortably between your thighs as he knocks the air out of your lungs.

it’s as if he’s telling you you’re not crazy, that you’re not imagining anything, because he’s here with you right now, out of anyone’s watchful eyes and he’s kissing the fuck out of you simply because he wants to. no dares, no alcohol—just itoshi sae and his crumbling resolve to hide his yearning.

by the time he pulls back, both of you are trying to catch your breaths, foreheads leaning against one another and it leaves you wondering whether it’s as you think or if he’s just entertaining your wishes.

“you know something?” he speaks, voice hoarse as his teal eyes look at you from behind those beautiful lashes of his. you swallow the lump in your throat, forcing a what? out even if it’s barely audible at best. “i’ve been wanting to do that too.”

you must’ve been wrong. you’re not the one that’s a lot to handle. he is.

“why is it that you always somehow know what i’m thinking?” you wonder out loud, an arm around his shoulder for support. you’re both still as close, still as mesmerised by the other.

sae doesn’t really know what you mean by that, so he shrugs. “maybe i’m just made for you,” he comments offhandedly, and you find it hard not to shrink from the nervousness. by now, he should already be able to tell you have a crush on him. your only saving grace is that he probably feels the same. otherwise, you have no doubt he’d probably go out of his way to avoid you.

“you have quite the tongue on you, you know that?”

sae chuckles softly, a smirk lining his lips as he continues staring at you, admiring every single inch of your face. “you would know.”

completely flustered, you gently push him away, hopping off the counter and skipping towards the guest room, offering sae one last thing to think about before you shut the door on him—“maybe next time you’ll know about me too.”

and once your door is shut, sae exhales shakily, the thought of your words and their insinuation consuming him for the entire night.

you really are a lot to handle.

extras !

that heart reaction from sae was absolutely an accident. he meant to go for the thumbs up.

after that kiss, sae had to help himself. he wasn't planning on going any further, but you turned him on a lot more than he thought was possible.

despite his feelings, eita still thinks he isn't ready to commit to just one person.

your feelings towards your mother are complicated—you know she isn't loving at all now, and yet you still hope for that small chance that she might revert back to the mother who once promised to love you more than anything else. it's something that eita was always against because he knew how much it hurt you. it's part of why you don't like to speak to eita about it and hear all of those things.

bianca got drunk to forget after sae rejected her request; when she drunk dialled him, he was too busy giving you a tour of his house.

sae has never invited bianca over to his house even once. he also has never lent her any of his jerseys (as she mentioned in the start of the chapter).

taglist! @yuzurins @saeskiss @raphsimp @lust4rin @mxplesyrvp @chieeeeeee @yumekolovesyukimiya @kunirayuna39 @auranny @sereniteav @gskill @saesgrl @riseena @rikijbol @sagejin @shironagi @veecynii

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