Childhood Friends Au - Tumblr Posts

Aaaahhh! I was internally screaming at the end with the small talk at the end. This fic was so good. I almost didn't want to start reading it because of the description and the potential angst. Although I love how both the MC and JK are both portrayed throughout the fic. It was also really inspiring to see the MC work her way up to being a top producer.

Navy; pt. 1

Reader x Jungkook // childhoodfriend!AU, idol!AU // 17k words

Summary: He’s your best friend, practically your other half and the two of you have always promised to be there for each other no matter what. The both of you have dreams of professionally making music together one day and to you it’s almost like reality, a given really, and with each day, the dream starts to feel like it’s within reach. But, one day, with one sentence, Jungkook destroys it all.

Genre: Fluff, Angst

A/N: hey this is me trying to dig myself outta my writer’s block! please know that this is just my imagination running wild and i’m pretty sure big hit didn’t take their phones away from them and there are like other inaccuracies but !!! just humour me hahah. also it seems like the keep reading feature doesn’t work on mobile? im so sorry for clogging up your dash ): and the formatting is all weird on mobile lol idk what’s happening!! it’s best if you just read this on desktop or mobile browser

Part 2

Busanbeats.

At aged 11, both you and Jungkook think that it’s the single most coolest name on Earth for the little home-made studio that you have in your bedroom. 10 years later, you’ll realize the name is as basic as basic comes but it would be a name that holds too many memories, memories both you and him will treasure for the rest of your lives.

Truth be told your so-called studio isn’t even one… it’s just your computer hooked up to some speakers that your neighbour had thrown out some odd years ago. On top of that, the midi keyboard you have is not top of the line either. It’s just some mediocre brand but you had gotten it for a steal at a garage sale and as long as all the keys worked, you didn’t really care.

To think that making horrendously simplistic music on second hand equipment is what will change both yours and Jungkook’s life forever is almost unfathomable and yet, that is all that it is. It would push both of you apart and bring the two of you together again, almost as if finding that midi keyboard buried deep under a pile of broken electronics in a stranger’s yard had been fate at work that day.

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jungkook scenario | gamomania

gamomania /ɡæmə(ʊ)ˈmeɪnɪə/ noun. 1) a form of mania characterised by strange and extravagant proposals of marriage. 2) an excessive longing for the married state.

❝ Your best friend has been proposing to you since preschool. Granted, he didn’t know what marriage meant at age four. But he certainly knows what it means now… ❞

➝ pairing: jungkook x female reader

➝ word count: 6.2k

➝ genre: fluff, mild angst, childhood friends au

➝ warnings: implied/light smut, swearing, an excessive amount of marriage proposals, tooth-rooting sweetness

➝ author’s note: I’m a sucker for childhood friends aus. so here’s another one. surprise! hopefully you all enjoy this one as much as I enjoyed writing it.

[22 years ago: age 4]

“Marry me!”

You look up from the sand pit, squinting past the sunshine, and find a young boy standing over you. He’s small for his age, with black hair matted across his forehead, damp with sweat. His knees are scraped, and a plaster is peeling off his cheek, but he’s triumphant, with his fingers wrapped around a golden ring.

You recognise the ring before you recognise him.

It’s the ring from the tree at the bottom of the playground. One day a group of your preschool friends discovered it while making mud pies in the dampest corner. It was caught around a bent twig. None of you knew how it got up in the tree, but that didn’t stop your imaginations. Some said a dragon dropped it while carrying treasure back to its nest, others said a wizard left it there to test anyone brave enough to climb up to retrieve it, and still others said an alien deposited it there, and one day tiny alien babies were going to pop out from it and take over the Earth.

Your best friend said it got there after a marriage proposal went horribly wrong and a woman threw it there in anger, screaming at her soon to be ex, “No. Absolutely not! Not after that!” At least that’s what your best friend’s mum said, and you trusted the authority of a grown-up. Even if you didn’t know what that was.

But now, the ring is no longer stuck in the tree, becoming a part of the bark as the branches grow around it. Instead, it’s in this boy’s hand. A boy, who, after a few more moments of squinting, you recognise to be Jeon Jungkook. He goes to your preschool, but you’ve never talked to him because you’re convinced he has boy germs.

He rubs his nose, and rubs in a spot of dirt. In case you hadn’t heard him the first time, he repeats it again. “Marry me?”

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ML au Childhood Soulmates: Master post updated version

The Dynamic

(Original Post)

(Continuation)

More insight:

(Here) (Here) (Here) (Here) (Here) (Here) (Here)

More on the characters

Marinette Adrien Chloé Sabrina Luka and Kagami

Episodes: (Not in order)

Origins

The Bubbler

Copy Cat

Evillustrator

Dark Cupid

Horrificator

Kung food

The Gamer

Animan

Volpina

The Collector

Prime Queen

Befana

Despair Bear

Captain Hardrock

Gorizilla

Style Queen & Queen Wasp

The Chameleon

Heroes Day

Animaestro

Weredad

Oni-Chan

Oblivio

(Other Episodes that have few changes)

Replacement AU Episodes: (Episodes completely different that they change the premise enough to warrant a new episode)

Queen Wasp 2.0 (Instead of Miracular)

La Mémoire (Instead of Stormy Weather 2.0) (Aka Maid Memory)

MalleSil childhood friends AU when??

Dp x DC prompt #whatever

Guys this has been rotting in my brain for the past month and i think it has lots of potential.

So basically Danny & Damian childhood friends.

Somehow, someway (maybe after five years old Damian kills one too many instructors, which are irreplaceable, maybe his arrogance causes one too many failures) Talia convinces Ra's to put weekly 'play dates' with the other league's children. These play dates are supposed to show Damian his superiority over them, but also make him care for his future subjects.

What the two didn't account for, was, well... Children.

Damian wasn't the mildest child, not was he trying to be likeable. He didn't see the point. And when you add their parents repeating over and over again how important the new child is.. no wonder all of them were scared to even look at him.

The chosen child himself was quite happy with this development. He didn't want to be there in first place, especially because he was specifically forbidden from cutting down any annoyances. So it was a good thing none of them dared to come to 10 meters radius to him. He didn't mind the children immidietly bursting into tears, when they lock eyes. He didn't feel angry, because these weren't even children of any important people, with no obligations to be nice to him, and they didn't even dare to breath in his vicinity (seriously, a boy passed out because he didn't wish to breath when Damian was sitting few spaces next to him. It was ridiculous).

He didnt feel like an outsider, he felt like their leader. He didn't feel loneliness, he felt proud. He didn't, he did.

So.. when a child, always sitting in a corner staring at the sky, was cornered by several of the other children, he didn't do anything. He was someone they should follow, he did not owe them to solve their petty rivalries. (Even if they insulted the child for their expressionless face, for being unable to recognize their imaginery rules of some bigger game, for being different. Even when Damian started realizing with more and more terror, this would be him, if he wasn't All Ghul)

...

...maybe he should establish himself as a good leader, by helping them. This once at least.

Damian walked closer, only wanting to discuss whatever bullying problem was happening, but the moment the children saw him, they ran. Well, most of them at least.

Danyal was the child of some lower member of the league (maybe even someone who was under their protection, doesn't matter). He was a very quiet, some would even say antisocial. He would spend all his time staring at the stars and not mingling with his peers. He didn't often wore any sort of expression, but once Damian spend more time with him (unwillingly might he add, even if it was him who looked for the other boy, and maybe it wasn't unwillingly, but that's not something he wants to think about. Ever), he realized, Danyal was full of them. Every time he talked about the stars, mentioned the new book his parents gifted him, and as the time went, when Damian himself was mentioned, the demon's heir couldn't help but think the older boy would burst from them.

Damian still wasn't quite sure why he was hated by their his peers. He knew some people would find Danyal strange, but he didn't quite understood (wasn't he the same? Why was he brilliant perfect amazing but Danyal strange idiot weird?).

But what he did know for sure, was that Danyal was his. He was his subject, someone he took under his wing to protect, and in exchange, Danyal would look after him too. It might be helping him out with any assassination attempts, or telling him the stories of space, when the younger boy couldn't force his tongue to form words.

Or at least he had been.

The family Danyal was from was poor. So when one of the tougher times came, it wasn't strange one of their children had to go. And what choice it was, picking between healthy beautiful children and a 'ghost living in a body'.

Only Damian hated it. He didn't understand. While yes, Danyal was his subject, he had many of them. If he wanted to be a good leader, he can't just focus on one them. That would be unfair. He saw this choice being made so many times and he was never bothered by it, so why now—

In the end he never discovered the answer. He locked the question deep inside his chest, inside his heart, where nothing could ever reach. He was Al Ghul, he was too great to be caught of guard and be strucked in it.

So when years and years later, when he was already living with his father for some time, he saw a black haired, blue eyed teen with tan skin, and the same grin his friend subject had, of course it was natural he knocked him out and brought him into the manor.

Not because he missed Danyal or anything of course. He had to... Check if this was some sort of plot of his Mother. Naturally.

@ximenib and I were talking about our childhood friends AU and future AU for these two and….*gestures to these* that happened 

Luck (PJM)

Hey guys! Amanda here and I hope you enjoy this imagine. I’m not quite sure about making a ‘set-in-stone’ upload schedule because I do have a job but I am going to make it a goal for myself to upload twice a week. This imagine is a pretty long one but it was super fun to write so I hope you enjoy what I have to offer you. Happy not-so-fun 4th of July and stay safe out there <3

Genre: Fluff, Childhood Friends!Au

Pairing: Jimin x reader

Word Count: 4.5K

Warnings: fluff, kissing, flashbacks

Summary: You’ve always been there for Jimin, supporting him through the majority of both of your lives, and he plans to thank you for it. 

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   Artist of the Year. Quite possibly if not THE most important and valuable award of the night. Important enough to be the very last award given and hold the title of a Daesang. Jimin sat on his cube-shaped seat, Hoseok to his left and Jungkook to his right. The nominees for the award played on the screen as their songs exited the speakers and suffocated the room, mixed with the cheers of each nominees’ fans. BTS were one of those nominees. Alongside Chungha, EXO, Taeyeon, and JANNABI. The tension that surrounded the idols was thick as they all waited patiently, or some, more impatiently, for Park Seo-joon to announce the winner. Jimin was staring at the ground a few meters away with an uneasy look on his face. He knew, along with the rest of BTS, Army, and possibly every other idol and fan in that building, that if they won, they would make history with two Daesang sweeps in a year. Yes, the tension was thick as blood. And while his head should have been present, present and in the game to support the other nominees as they came up on screen - maybe like Jungkook who was bobbing his head to every song - he couldn’t help but stare at the ground and think of one thing, or rather, one person.

   Throughout his six and a half years of being an idol with BTS, Jimin had given many speeches. Many thank you’s and dedications, many promises to the fans. However, tonight, he wanted to dedicate his speech - if they won - to the one person that he hasn’t really thought of giving thanks to, despite them deserving it more than he deserved that award. He slightly smirked at that thought, knowing that the person his mind was clouded with would have responded, “Debatable.” to it. But Jimin was sure of it. And he wanted to thank you in the most special way possible.

   You know those cliche moments when time slows down before a big moment for a character in a movie? That's how Jimin was feeling as the music faded out and the silent tension grew even thicker as they waited for the winner to spill out of Seo-joon’s mouth. Still staring at the ground, Jimin thought of the very, or more the very many reasons as to why he needed to thank you. Because you were always there. Through everything. Ever since you were kids. And for some unknown, ungodly reason, you decided to stick with him through it all instead of leaving like a level-headed person would. And like clockwork, as if his life was flashing before his very eyes, the memories of you two had resurfaced one by one, seeming like forever, but lasting a half of a second each. 

   “Jimin! Come downstairs, please!” Mrs. Park, Jimin’s mother, yelled from the bottom of the stairs. Six year old Jimin came bouncing down the stairs, looking up at his mom. 

   “Yes eomma?”

   “Come with me to greet our new neighbors, lovely.” 

   As they walked over to the new neighbors house, Jimin’s mother carried a welcome basket full of her and her husband’s baked goods while Jimin carried the welcome card. He looked up at his mom and asked, “Do they have a kid like me, eomma?”

   Mrs. Park simply smiled down at him, heartwarmed by his curiosity. “I don’t know, lovely. We have to see.” Jimin nodded at this information with a new look of determination on his face, committed to finding out if he could make a new friend. 

   Finally reaching the front door, Mrs. Park knocked and waited a few seconds. Jimin could hear a faint yelling behind the door, making out something like ‘can you get the door’ and ‘i’ll be there in a second.’ The door had opened revealing a small young girl, looking to be about the same age as Jimin.

   “Hello, sweetie. What’s your name?” Mrs. Park asked, smiling at the young girl.

   The young girl looked up at her before responding, “Y/N..” her eyes flickered to Jimin for a second before looking back to the woman. Jimin’s previous confidence seemed to fade as he  stood behind his mother’s legs, just peeking out behind her.

   Another woman had walked up behind Y/N, dusting off her hands on her jeans, “Hello!”

   “Hello! You must be Y/N’s mother! I’m Mrs. Park and I live next door with my husband and my six year old son, Jimin. Jimin, say hello.” She looked down at him. 

   The shy boy quietly looked at them and managed to give a quick wave while almost-whispering a small “hello.”

   The two women both smiled at his cuteness while Y/N mirrored Jimin behind her own mother’s legs. She looked at him curiously. 

   “We brought you a welcoming basket and card!” Mrs. Park said, handing the basket to her mother. Jimin had shyly handed her the card as well. 

   “Oh thank you! I’m Mrs. Y/L/N and I believe you already met my five year old daughter, Y/N.” She smiled. Mrs. Park smiled and nodded.

   Meanwhile, Y/N was still looking at Jimin. She was staring at his shirt, which had a pirate on it. For the first time since she introduced herself, Y/N had spoken, “I like your shirt…”

   Jimin looked at her to find him looking back at him, and he grinned shyly. “Thanks, I like it too.” 

   Y/N gave him a small smile, “I have a toy pirate set in my bedroom if you wanna go play with me?” she offered shyly, glancing up at her mother. Her mother nodded in encouragement, Mrs. Park softly smiling at the endearing moment. The two ladies shared a mischievous glance.

   Jimin’s eyes lit up as he looked up to his mother, “Please eomma?” he asked, almost begging. Mrs. Park giggled and nodded.

   “Just be home in time for dinner, lovely.” He nodded, smiling at his mother’s words. 

   The memory was a fond one, both Y/N and Jimin’s mothers still tease them to this day about how shy they were back then and how they both were scared that the two kids were going to go off on a ship and pillage the world, over your shared love of pirates. 

   Then, came the next memory. 

   “Jiminie!” Jimin turned his body to the sound of his beloved nickname, bestowed upon him by no other than you. He had declared sometime a few years ago that you were the only one who was allowed to call him that. Twelve year old Y/N came running at him with a big smile gracing her face. “You did it! You won!”

   Jimin smiled back at her, his gold taekwondo medal around his neck. She hugged him tightly, burying her face into his neck. “It’s because you were here. You’re my good luck charm.” He said, hugging her back. 

   She giggled at him, “You’re silly.”

   And although they were joking at the tender age of thirteen and twelve, his words became true. Y/N became his good luck charm, as he seemed to do well everytime she was present for a match or any other competition that Jimin had. So she kept showing up to them in support of him. Jimin could rely on her for those kinds of things, like he could rely on her for anything, leading him to the next memory. 

   You had opened your front door with a smile on your face, before it quickly dropped at the sight of your best friend. A fifteen year old Jimin stood there, soaked from the rain, eyes puffy and red, sniffling with a miserable smile on his face.

   “Hi..” he whispered. You didn’t hesitate to pull him inside from the cold, straight into your arms as he nuzzled his face into your shoulder. “Hana and I broke up..” He said. You somehow seemed to understand. Hana was Jimin’s first girlfriend, and he really liked her. They dated for a couple months so he must have been devastated. You said no words, you just stood there holding him as he let it all out on your shoulder. Your mother had come from the kitchen, a questioning glance on her face. Although he couldn’t see it, you shook your head slightly at her so she knew not to ask any questions.

   “Would you like to stay the night? Dinner is almost ready.” You whispered at him. He let go and looked at you, with a small smile on his face. He nodded as you grinned at him, taking his hand and pulling him towards the dinner table, where you and your mother were cooking dinner together.

   The rest of that night, you and your mom did your best to cheer Jimin up, cracking stupid jokes and dancing terribly to the music playing in the background as you finished cooking dinner. You and your mom always accepted Jimin into your family, just as his family accepted you. Hana was Jimin’s last girlfriend, despite her also being his first. What he didn’t tell you about the breakup though, was that she had tried to make him choose in between you and her out of jealousy. He chose you.

   “I got it.” Jimin said suddenly, breaking the silence that surrounded you both as you watched the sun set from the roof of your house. He was sixteen at the time, meaning you were 15. 

   Your head snapped towards him faster than the speed of light, and he had to hold his breath in order to not laugh at the astonished look on your face. However that look quickly changed into a large smile as you squealed of excitement. “I told you that you would get the scholarship, Jiminie! I’m so proud of you!” you kissed his cheek, making his cheeks turn a slight shade of pink. You giggled at his adorableness before saying, “It was lucky that you were picked, the pool of applicants was hella large. But you deserve it way more than all of those people.” 

   He smirked at you cheekily, “Who said anything about luck? I already had you.” It was your turn to blush this time, smacking him on the shoulder and turning towards the view. He barked out a laugh and put his head on your shoulder in endearment. Slowly, though, his smile fell. “I’m not sure I want to take it though..” He trailed off.

   You glanced at him in curiosity, “Why, JIminie?” You were startled and slightly concerned at this sudden confession. To your knowledge, this had always been his dream.

   He sighed, “I’m not sure how to explain it, really. I just feel like there is more out there for me. Like if I accepted this scholarship then I would be settling for a life in Japan and Busan only. Tied down to a career if you will. I feel like I have the potential to be more, to make more, to leave more of an impact. You know what I mean?” He looked at you, looking for reassurance. To him, he thought he sounded insane. His worries were lessened in seconds though, when you smiled gently at him and placed your hand on top of his, rubbing your thumb over his knuckles.

   “Yeah, I know what you mean. Whatever you decide, Jiminie, I’ll still be your good luck charm and support you.” You giggled at him, and his smile grew. He threw his arm around your shoulders and pulled you into his side as he messed up your hair with his other hand.

   “AH! Jimin!” You yelled, laughing with him.

  You weren’t lying. You did support him. You supported him throughout a lot. You supported him when he decided not to take the scholarship, you supported him when his teachers thought he made a mistake, and you supported him when he told you of his decision to move to Seoul, to seek that opportunity. 

   He saw your smile, big as day to the average bystander, but he has known you for eleven years. He saw how you were hiding your sadness. And that sadness had made up his mind in less than a second.

  “Come with me.” He stated. Your eyes widened and you looked up at him miraculously, as if he was insane. 

  “What?” You laughed out, baffled by his statement.

  He smiled at you and pulled you towards him, “Come with me. To Seoul, I mean.”

  You laughed out, however this time it was more joyful, “Okay.” you smiled. 

  “Okay?” He asked you, smiling even wider. It was an exchange full of smiles and joy. 

  You nodded, giggling at his response, “Okay, lets move to Seoul.”

  You two had gotten a fairly cheap apartment to share for a few months before he found a company called BigHit Entertainment. You were there to urge him to audition, since his shy nature had him doubting himself, making him feel like he wouldn’t make it even if he tried. You were also there to support him outside of his audition when he finally took your advice and went. 

  You both stood outside of the door, his name had just been called. All his nerves had resurfaced and he was tense. He took a quick breath before moving forward to go into the shark pit. 

  “Hey!” You called out, him turning around at the sound of your face. “Good luck, Jiminie.” You smiled at him, crossing your fingers for him.

  “Why need luck when I already have you?” He winked at you, walking backwards. You smiled and shook your head, sitting back down as he turned around walking into the room.

   What seemed like hours passed when in reality it was only a few minutes as you bit your nails, waiting for him to come out of the room. Suddenly the door opened and he walked out. His shoulders were slumped and he had a dull look on his face as he walked towards you. You sighed and took him into your arms.

  “Aw, Jiminie…” You said, attempting to comfort him.

   “Y/n?” he muffled, face nuzzled into your neck.

   “Yes?” You asked as you rubbed circles on his back.

  “I made it.” He smiled into your neck.

  “What.”

  “I made it. I passed the audition.”

  “AISH! Pabo! You had me so scared!” You smacked the back of his head. He laughed out loud as he picked you up, spinning you around. 

   You were there for it. Since his beginning in BigHit as a trainee and his entrance into BTS. You were there for it all. Even when he moved into the dorm with the other six boys, they had accepted you as family just as well as him. You were often seen at the dorm with them, early in the mornings cooking them breakfast before they left, making them lunch and bringing it to them, and cooking them dinner alongside Jin and sometimes Yoongi. In your perspective, it was the least you could do to support them, seeing how hard they worked each day. But you didn’t realize how much it meant to your best friend. You were there for Jimin through it all. For the fourteen-hour practice days, for the weeks in the studio, for the late nights that he cried to you, wanting to give up. But you refused to let him let go of his dream so easily. The whole reason he was here, in this seat and at this award show, was because of you. 

   “Bangtan Sonyeondan.”

  Jimin had been so immersed in his memories with you that he almost missed the way that Park Seo-Joon had announced the winner of Artist of the Year. He closed his eyes in relief, catching a small glance of how Jungkook had put his head in his arms, seeming to give thanks to whoever was on his mind at the time. Probably Army, Jimin thought. He stood up with the rest of his members and began their journey to the big stage. His legs moved, but his mind didn’t, thoughts still clouded with you, wondering how you were reacting right now. He remembered how you reacted when they won their very first Daesang in 2016. 

  He walked into the dressing room when he felt your weight slam into him, almost knocking him to the ground. He quickly steadied himself as his arms circled around your waist. He was expecting screaming, squealing, laughing, something among the spectrum of joy to come from you. What he got instead was a tight hug and your head crooked in his neck, small sniffles coming from you. 

  “Wha- are you crying?” He looked at you, a smile forming on his face. Normally he would tease you, but he had just finished shedding a few tears himself. 

   “Shut up,” you mumbled, making him laugh, “I’m just so proud of you.”

  He smiled at your words and pulled you away, looking into your eyes. They sparkled with the tears that you were shedding, even though they sparkled without them anyway.

  “You did it, Jiminie. You achieved your dreams.” You said, tone close to a whisper. He smiled at you and pulled you back into him.

  “Trust me, it’s only the beginning.”

  He was right. It was only the beginning of BTS’ journey on the charts. He had accomplished many things with BTS, his members serving as his brothers and his best friends, but you held another special place in his heart. Because you were there from the very beginning. Of everything.

  As they reached the mic, Tae had taken it upon himself to give the first speech. Jimin stood there, looking among the crowd at all the fans, amazed. However, his head was still heavily clouded on thoughts of you, and how to thank you for always being there. He was already smiling, but it grew wider as he thought of how you supported him in every little thing, even things such as their variety show, Run BTS.

  It was just before they started shooting the next episode of Run when Jimin had come up to you, your place being behind the cameras. You were sitting next to Manager Sejin, laughing about something. He smiled at how comfortable you looked, among this crazy life of his. How you just fit in. He shook his head at the thought. Of course you fit in, you’ve been there since it all started. 

  You noticed him walking up to you and smiled at him. “Hey.” you smiled.

  “Hey.” He said. You looked him up and down, he wore a nicely fitted suit.

  “Well don’t you look dapper.” You said, giggling. 

  He smirked at you, “Always dressed for the best, madam.” He bowed dramatically, making you transition from giggling to laughing out loud. 

  He walked closer to you and kissed your forehead. 

  “Good luck, Jiminie. I’m rooting for you.” You smirked, knowing how rare it was for him to win a run episode.

  “Luck? Never heard of it. I have you though, so I should be okay.” he smirked back at you before being called back to the set to film the twenty-sixth episode of Run. And just like all those years ago, he won, and of course, he thought it was because his good luck charm was there to support him.

  Jimin looked towards the mic to see that it was Hobi speaking. Jimin was next, and he wasn’t prepared at all. Well, moreover he knew what to say, he just didn’t know how to say it. He racked through his brain trying to find anything to say, but all that came was another memory. 

  “I believe in you, you’ll do fine.” Y/n giggled over the phone.

  Jimin smiled at the sound before looking towards the clock. What was seven o’clock pm here in the United States was ten o’clock over in Korea. Unfortunately you had obligations to attend to at your own job, so traveling with him to the AMAs wasn’t an option. But that didn’t mean that you weren’t set up with a bowl of popcorn and a blanket on your couch with the TV on, ready to watch him and BTS perform.

  “It’s our first performance at an American award show, I just- I’m nervous,” he ran his hand over his face, “If we mess it up then our chances of charting in the U.S. could be ruined, our name mocked, our hard work in ruins.”

  He could almost see the smirk you held over the phone, “Don’t worry about it, Jiminie. I’m watching and I am one-hundred percent sure that you guys will absolutely rock that stage and blow all those American’s socks off!” You giggled.

  He smiled at you over the phone before Tae came to tell him that they’re leaving. “Well I have to go..” he trailed off.

  “Good luck.” You said.

  “You’re my luck, Y/N” he said, letting out a breath.

  Jungkook had to nudge Jimin in the side for Jimin to come back to his senses. He looked around to see that they were all looking at him. He took a deep breath and stepped up to the microphone.

  “Um, I’m sure that the others had already thanked everyone they needed to thank. I want to, of course, dedicate this award to Army, and thank you all for everything you all have done,” he smiled at the loud roar of cheers. “Over the years, over all the award shows we’ve attended and all the awards we have won, I have thanked many people. From my family, to my teachers, to our managers, our producers, the rest of the staff and Bang PD, and of course, my brothers,” he glanced at BTS who were all smiling at him, “but there’s one person I have yet to thank, and they probably are the one person that deserves it the most.” He took a deep breath. He wasn’t nervous of Army’s reaction, they already knew you existed. You had joined him for many V-Lives, made appearances with him at a few award shows and parties, and even sang a cover with him. No, he was more nervous about getting his point across.

  “Y/N,” he said, smiling at the uproar of cheers from his fans at your name, “you have always been present and a part of my life for the past twenty years. I still remember when we were five and six and we bonded over our shared love of pirates when I came to greet you to the neighborhood for the first time.” He chuckled, letting out a few tears. He was emotional, to say the least. “You’ve always been there to support me in absolutely every journey I have ever encountered and have celebrated with me for every accomplishment I have achieved. You were the one to convince me to audition for BigHit, and you refused to let me quit when things became too rough. I don’t think I could have made it this far without you. I just wanted to say thank you for that, and most of all, thank you for being my best friend.” He ended his little speech, claps and cheers following. Lastly, Namjoon stepped up to the microphone to give his ending speech before they left.

  Jimin’s thoughts however, didn’t leave you. He kept thinking about how you reacted to his speech, dedicated to you. Whether you were crying or squealing in the dressing room backstage. 

  Yes, you were here too. Sitting in the dressing room watching everything. He remembered earlier, before he went on stage to perform.

  “Good luck, Jiminie.” You whispered, holding your pinky out.

  He smiled at you, hooking his finger with yours, “Why need luck when I already have you?”

  He stood there as Namjoon gave his speech. Jimin was deep into his thoughts about you. How you were there for everything, for twenty years, for his wins and his losses, for his crazy life. How he was without a doubt, undeniably, and sickenly in love with you. It appears that it just took him this long to figure out that you had always been there, present in his life, and that he wouldn’t rather have anyone else by his side.

  They started walking back to the dressing room and the boys were all congratulating each other. Staff and other idols were congratulating them as they passed by but they were all a blur to Jimin, as his one goal was to find you. Once he located the dressing room, he took a big breath before opening it and walking in.

  And there you stood, looking at him expectantly, tears streaming down your face. With that first glance towards you also came a rush of confidence. He walked over to you in large strides and slammed his lips onto yours, one hand on your cheek and the other on the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him. It took you a couple seconds to process what was happening, but you started to kiss back, tears still streaming down your face. The boys in the background were wolf-whistling and cheering. Jimin was pretty sure he heard Jungkook yell something along the lines of ‘finally’ but he didn’t care. All he wanted was you, however the need for oxygen was too much and he pulled away slowly. 

  You looked up at him with teary eyes, but your lips curled into a shy smile, kind of like the same smile that you gave him when you two met for the very first time.

  “Hey, Little Luck.” He mumbled, staring into your eyes. His nickname for you was fitting, he had given it to you when he won his first taekwondo match that you went to, just having turned twelve.  

  You giggled, “Hi, Jiminie..” You glanced at the boys and your cheeks turned pink. Your eyes flickered back to him before you let out a breath, “You did it Jiminie. You made history.” You stated, smiling wider.

  He grinned at you, gave you a peck on the lips, and another on your forehead. “Not without you, I couldn’t have.”

  You two stood there for a couple seconds before you pulled away with a raised eyebrow and a mischievous glint in your eye.

  “So is this your confession where you tell me how much you love me and how perfect I am?” You teased, running your fingers through his hair.

  He barked out a laugh and grinned wolfishly at you, “Indeed it is, Little Luck, indeed it is.”

  You laughed with him, “Well I guess it’s only fitting to say that I love you too.” 

  And in this moment, Jimin knew you were going to be there for him for the long run, the rest of his life. Well, he had always known that, but now it just took on a whole new meaning. Not only would you be there as his best friend, but as his lover. And he couldn’t wait to embark on more journeys and adventures with you as his right-hand woman, giving you all the care and love you deserve from all the years of continuous and endless support you provided him. No, he didn’t need any luck in moving on with his life and career, because he already had you. The End.

Tamakyo au where they meet younger and grew up as childhood friends!

Kyoya met Tamaki before he met Tamaki. He hadn't thought much of the other boy, his hair wild and face dirty. He looked like every other commoner as he held his hand out to him, the universal sign for a hand shake.

He wrinkled his nose at the gesture, "I'm sorry, I don't shake hands with commoners."

It didn't matter that Kyoya was told to always be polite. Well, it did, but who would this boy tell? He was no one of importance. Kyoya didn't have to be kind to him. He wasn't bound by rules or frivolous niceties of the upper class. He could be himself. Which mainly meant he could be a brat.

"Oh," the other supplied, a little dumbfounded.

Oh was right. This kid had to be plain stupid to think he could so easily befriend someone so obviously higher in status. Maybe he was stupid. Kyoya knew that the lower class wasn't capable of affording education as nice as his own, it would make sense for their kids to be idiots.

He almost felt bad for the boy, born into the wrong household and now too dumb to comprehend who was socially acceptable to ask for friend ship. A true shame. Perhaps they could have been friends if the other were better educated (and tied to a business that could aid his father's).

Not that Kyoya wanted anymore "friends", they were quite exhausting to handle.

"Why not?"

"What?"

"Why not shake hands with a commoner?"

Kyoya definitely didn't feel bad now, just annoyed. Why couldn't he just be left alone? "Why should I? I have nothing to gain from being pleasant with you,"

"Friendship!" He announced, looking extremely proud of himself.

Was this guy serious? Friendship? This wasn't some anime. "Friends should be made out of convenience. I have nothing to gain from a friendship with you,"

Kyoya didn't sit around to see his hurt expression, he could wait for his chauffer somewhere quieter.

___________________________

Kyoya had many regrets, most of which weren't in his control. (Being the youngest, for example.) But never had something gone so obnoxiously wrong as this.

"Kyoya, this is Tamaki Suoh. I would like for you two to get along." He gave him a pointed look, and Kyoya knew what he had to do. But how could he do that? There was no way this kid- Tamaki, would ever be friends with him after Kyoya not only snubbed him, but mistook him for a commoner.

Other kids didn't "work" like Kyoya did. They didn't all bend over backwards for business deals and connections. They were influenced by emotions. They liked people that were nice. People who were kind, who did what they wanted.

Kyoya had fucked up.

He didn't know it was possible to fuck up this badly, intentionally or otherwise.

"Hi," the other offers lamely, as their parents walk away. Likely to discuss some important trade deal or God knows what. Kyoya just hopes he hasn't screwed it up before it's even begun.

"... hello,"

He needed to recover, make an excuse, apologize, something. "Making friends" wasn't usually so hard, but then again, normally wealthy kids didn't dress like scrubs and roll around in the dirt.

"I'm sorry for how I acted earlier today, I was in a terrible mood because my chauffer was running late, I didn't mean to let it out on you. I understand if you don't want to be friends-"

"I-" Kyoya hadn't been expecting an interruption, though he didn't mind it. Maybe this kid hadn't been trained in proper etiquette, his manners seemed to be horribly lacking.

"I... I want to be your friend,"

It took Kyoya a moment to process, because what the hell? He didn't think before blurting,"You want to be friends with... me?"

Kyoya was so obviously playing him! Anyone could tell he didn't actually want to be friends, that he had given an empty excuse to fix what he'd done earlier- how stupid was this kid?

Tamaki looked panicked, like maybe asking to be friends had offended Kyoya. He itched the back of his head, glancing away, wreaking of nervousness, "Only if you want to, too?"

"Why?" And Kyoya needed to stop looking a gift horse in the mouth and just be happy. He could so easily just accept the offer and that would be that. He shouldn't question the other.

But he had to know.

Tamaki stared at him, trying to figure out what he meant by why. "You don't have any friends," he offered quietly, "and I know what that's like. To not have anyone who you can be you around. It's lonely."

He took a breath,, hesitantly meeting Kyoya's eyes, "I need a friend, too, and I think I'd really like if it was you."

Now it was Kyoya's turn to say, "Oh,"

Because he was right. There wasn't anyone Kyoya was "himself" around. Somehow this stranger, who was a complete idiot, had read him like a book.

And for some reason he decided to open up his own pages to Kyoya, too.

"Even though I'm an asshole?"

Tamaki perked up like a puppy after hearing walk, "Even if your an asshole!"

"Then I think I would like to be friends. Real friends,"

Childhood Friends Danny and Jason

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They... sort it out eventually.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The wriggly protective thing settles in his chest.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bruce refuses, his face full of grief.

Danny never returns to Gotham.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It was the Joker." Jason says.

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

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

Not died. Killed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not Dick?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

———————

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

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

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

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

Tim responds quickly, and his message sends.

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

Dick: they are funny

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

Tim: hey Jason are you not gonna say anything?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jason: that’s danny?

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

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

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

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

Tim: how would you know that?

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

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

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

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

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

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

———————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He misses Jason. He misses Jason.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s already begun to move towards the door.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He frowns. And says nothing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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