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confessedlyfannish · 6 months

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DP x DC Prompt #7

Robin is heretofore thought to be alone when he swings his katana behind him, almost catching the Adam's apple of his mother's new lover.

"Whoopsie!" Danny says, taking an agile step back, as if Robin's slice was a slip of the hand rather than a deliberate and likely fatal attack.

"What are you doing here," Robin demands, mask hiding the momentary widen of his eyes. No one sneaks up on the heir of Batman, least of all his mother's latest toy.

"I wanted to chat, just you and I," Danny says, as if they are standing on a sidewalk and not the rooftop of a forty floor building in the dead of night, Robin in full costume. "I know you were kinda caught off guard yesterday night."

"I was not caught off guard."

This is a lie. Yesterday night when Talia had appeared at the latest Wayne Charity Ball as the date of Daniel Fenton, an up-and-coming name in renewable energy, Father's dumbfounded look had been nothing less than genuine.

And even the Annoyance had choked on his non-alcoholic champagne when Talia had instructed Damian to greet his "new stepfather".

"Talia," Danny had said levelly, running a hand over hers placed delicately in the crook of his arm, "Remember how we were going to break this gently?"

"Darling, Al Ghuls do not require a gentle break," Talia had replied.

"What is happening," Tim had quietly muttered, squinting at the contents of his glass suspiciously. "What."

Tonight Danny is as calm as he was the previous night, looking amused if anything. Damian resists the urge to take another swing at him. Mother would probably not like that. Danny's affections towards her had seemed quite genuine, his eyes often on her with a light Damian reluctantly recognized from Grayson's many dalliances. And dare he say it, Mother had seemed to reciprocate.

"My mistake. Still," Danny says, "I was hoping to speak with you alone."

"I do not require another father," Damian says promptly. This is true. He already has a father, and a Grayson, and the other annoyances, and Alfred. "And you should not be speaking to a...minor...without their guardian present." He does not like saying this, as he is fully capable of being his own guardian, but Dick had been adamant once updated by Tim and Barbara that should Damian come in contact with Danny alone he was to say as such. He had extracted a promise from Damian after a high-pitched lecture via video call going on nigh an hour. Damian had been waterboarded, twice, and would have preferred a third time to one of Grayson's seminars on "stranger danger" and "parental custody". It had prevented him from going on patrol with Batman, who had left shortly after the gala, presumably to meet with his mother.

Batman had not succeeded, returning without a word. Red Hood, cackling, had pulled up behind him to congratulate Damian on his new "daddy" and loudly tell Oracle how Bruce had gotten an eyeful. An eyeful of what, Damian wasn't sure, and asking only made Jason laugh harder and Dick yell from the Batcomputer.

"Good thing I'm speaking to Robin, then," Danny says with a grin. Damian updates his mental file on the man to less of a goody two-shoes than previously thought. "And like I said last night, I'm not here to overstep."

"Then?" Robin asks crossing his arms.

"You and I are a lot alike, actually," Danny says. Despite the chill of the night, wind whipping at his hair, he seems very comfortable in his t-shirt and jeans.

Damian scoffs and Danny holds his hands up.

"Okay, I deserved that one. What I mean is, and bear with me here, I had a lot going on when I was your age, and my parents weren't always super...present. Their work kept them pretty distracted as we got older and more independent."

The background check they'd run indicated Danny's parents were scientists, his sister a therapist and women's self-defense instructor. The man himself had nothing remarkable on his record beyond a public intoxication charge in his early twenties, but that hardly meant anything. Talia Al Ghul's public record was nothing short of exemplary, one of the many facts that had made the judge reluctant to grant Bruce full custody.

"And listen, I know the way I was raised in the midwest is vastly different from your upbringing, and comparing the two would likely be condescending and a disservice to you, but I also know that while I liked my independence, I wish I had been able to talk to my parents more when things got tough."

"I fail to understand what you are saying," Damian says flatly. "Are you instructing me to speak to my parents as you believe I am having a hard time? And your basis for this incredibly incorrect hypothesis is you were once a teenager whose parents were neglectful? Also, this is certainly overstepping."

Danny's smile is sheepish. "It is, isn't it?"

Damian turns to leave.

"What I'm trying to say," Danny says loudly. "Is that I intend to stay in Gotham. I have some things I need to see to here so I'll be here a while.

"And this is important to me because--"

"Talia will be staying." When Damian continues to stare at him blankly, he clarifies: "With me. Here. I mean, we definitely will go on a honeymoon at some point, even though I'm not sure we're actually married no matter what Talia says about that ceremony--"

"Tt. Grandfather will never let Mother simply galavant around."

"You don't need to worry about Ra's any more," Danny says, straightening. His voice is firm and certain. "He won't be bothering you or your mother."

"That's impossible," Damian says sharply.

"You can ask Talia yourself." Danny pulls out a card. "This is the hotel we're staying at. Room 805. You are right that you definitely shouldn't come without your father's permission, but if he's alright with it please feel free."

Danny takes a step closer, and if Damian's quick grip on his katana bothers him he doesn't show it.

"I mean it Robin. I'm not saying Talia's going to petition for joint custody, and I'll make sure Batman knows that as well. I just want you to know she's here. If you ever want to...see her."

He holds out the card until Damian plucks it from his hand with a growl.

"And also, Damian?"

"What?" Damian snaps.

"Your mom talks about you all the time. I think she'd like to see you too."

"Tt." Damian says, eyes darting down to the card. When they flick back up, Danny is gone.

Damian pulls a quick 360, sword drawn, but the man is nowhere to be seen.

"Robin," Batman says in his comm. "Need you on the west docks."

His comm line was open the whole time, he realizes, but Oracle is uncharacteristically silent. A further investigation shows no time has passed since Danny arrived at the roof. Only the card clenched in his fist indicates he was ever there.

"On my way," Damian says, sheathing his weapon.

Hmph. Of course. His mother is no fool, least of all in her selection of lovers.

Upon arriving at the cave later that night, Damian exits the clock at the rear of the group.

"Father," he says as he clears the threshold. "I wish to spend time with Mother and Stepfather at their earliest convenience. Perhaps tomorrow after school."

Everyone stops still, turning to look back at him. Tim pauses mid-stretch, Steph's jaw drops, and Cassie smiles pleasantly at him. Even Alfred, a tray of freshly baked cookies in hand, blinks at him.

Bruce's mouth opens and closes, wordlessly.

"Absolutely not!" Dick Grayson screeches from the other end of the hallway, dufflebag in hand. Behind him Jason grasps the doorway, doubled over in laughter.

#dick ain't no one bad touching my baby grayson #danny: I think it's important I meet your son #talia: why tho #batman #batfam #in case it wasn't clear bruce thought this was some sort of trap #then accidentally peeped on two newly wedded people getting it on #damian wayne #talia al ghul #danny phantom #danny fenton #dp x dc #dp x dc au #dp x dc prompt #I also subscribe to the concept where this is a diff dimension #danny's been alive for a millenia #and talia is sam reincarnated #puppy dog stepdad ghost god loves his goth assassin single mom gf #my writing

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ghouljams · 8 months

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god pls tell me medieval ghost gets readers parents approval or imma throw up in sadness i need them to be happy forever

You take a moment to collect yourself after your disastrous meeting with the duke. Your eyes are hardly watering but Ghost hands you a handkerchief at the slightest sigh, dutiful as always. You often wonder what he thinks of you for being so emotional over these little sorrows. It's hardly worth getting worked up about, a less than ideal man, a practically perfect knight. Yes, hardly worth the sniffles.

"I'm alright," you tell Ghost, glancing up at him. His gaze is fixed on you, watchful as you dab your eyes with his handkerchief, press the soft fabric against your lips and imagine him doing the same, before holding it out to him. He holds a hand up in refusal. You settle it in your lap, fingers playing with the hemmed edges of the fabric, you can't bear to look at him like this. "I should tell my mother that the Duke's fled," you stand, hear the shift in Ghost's armor behind you.

"Pathetic fool," Ghost grumbles.

"Agreed," you hum, swiping your hands over your skirts to be sure they've fallen back into place, "I hope I never marry if that's the sort of men I have to look forward to." Ghost hums, deep and dissatisfied. It's not him you're talking about, you hope he knows that. No, you hope he doesn't know, it's worse if he knows. He mustn't know.

"Queens have ruled before," he says. Ghost follows a step behind you as you exit the sitting room. You're sure your mother is in her quarters, if she hasn't already heard word of your prospective suitors hasty exit.

You spot her in the foyer, your dissatisfied guest walking away from her. You turn on your heel to avoid the shit show and nearly bump into Ghost. His hands grip your shoulders to keep you from bouncing off his armored chest, and you wince a little at the picture you two must make. Your mother's voice calls to you and Ghost spins you to face her. She looks cross.

She motions for you to follow her and the three of you make your way to her drawing room. She holds a hand up to stop Ghost from entering. He gives a short bow and moves to the side to stand with the other guards. So, it's going to be that sort of conversation.

Your mother pulls your aside as the doors close firmly behind you, eyes searching yours. You feel significantly smaller than you are under her gaze. "The Duke left in a hurry," she says plainly, "apparently he was concerned about-" a sigh "-living up to your expectations."

"Should I not expect anything of my future husband?" Sarcasm drips from your voice, you know you're pushing it. The queen's voice seems more steeled when she speaks next, a tone that makes you flinch.

"He had other concerns about you and your knight. Concerns which seem to be shared by many, I'm told." Her voice softens, falls gently into your mother's, not the queen's, questions. "Tell me honestly, have you and him..." she winces, her gaze darts to your skirts. You feel your anger boil at the insinuation, not for yourself but for Ghost.

"No! No, he would never-" You try to swallow the bitterness rising in your throat, the painful truth of your situation, "Ghost would never touch me."

Your mother looks relieved, you wish you could feel the same. "Good," she nods, "good."

"Is that what people are saying? What people think? That he would-" you can't stop the anger that bleeds out of you, the shock on your mother's face as you raise your voice, "Ghost is an honorable man, he has been loyal to me for years. How dare you- How dare anyone even think to imply that he would be such a- a brute! That he would ever do anything to harm me or my reputation as your-" you spit the words at her, "-perfect princess."

"Oh," your mother's face falls, understanding written clear over her features, "oh my sweet child, you love him."

"Of course not," you look away from her, "what would be the point? He wouldn't lay a finger on me even if I did."

"If you said that he-"

You cut her off quickly, quietly, "I won't sully his reputation for my own selfish desires." Your stomach clenches, your throat scratching hot as you swallow down the lump in it. A princess does not let her emotions get the best of her, especially when it comes to trivial ones like love.

Your mother turns your chin with gentle fingers so you're facing her again, and leans forward to bump her forehead against yours. You take a deep shaky breath as her hand cups the back of your neck, warm and comforting in a way she could never be outside of her private rooms. You close your eyes and enjoy it, enjoy the shared space, the joint inhale and exhale. It calms you.

"I'll stop the suitor meetings," she tells you finally. You pull back, shocked.

"That's not-" She raises a hand to stop your refusal.

"There are no suitable candidates currently on the list anyway, it would be a waste of your time to meet them all." She speaks with the conviction of a queen, waving off the roster of well established gentleman with the affection of your mother. You smile, weakly.

"Thank you, I'll- I'll try to quell the rumors in the meantime."

"Why? I see no reason to bother with petty falsehoods, continue as you were." You nod, and your mother cups your face, her eyes sad, almost nostalgic. You wonder what she's thinking, you know better than to ask.

Ghost stiffens when you exit the Queen's rooms, the other guards snapping to attention as well. For all the yelling you'd done, you hardly look upset. Though that was nearly two hours ago. Since then a maid had been in and out with afternoon tea and you'd been much quieter in your conversation.

Honorable you'd said. Honorable. As if the thoughts of you that ran through his head were so... honorable. Though you were right, he wouldn't lay a finger on you. In his dreams he holds you tightly in his arms, spreads you with both hands, caresses you with his mouth. One finger is nothing, he needs all of them. Needs to run his hands over you, hold your face between his palms, feel the give of your soft skin where he touches and God if he didn't need every point of contact he could get. He wants to feel your breath against his lips, taste the last sip of wine on your tongue. He wants to hear you say his name, his real name, with such desperate wanting it would make an angel blush. He wants, and it is not an honorable thing.

An honorable man. How highly you must think of him. If you knew how he thinks of you late into the night you'd shun him in the morning.

"Ghost are you still here?" You ask, peaking your head out of your changing room.

"Always, my lady," he answers on instinct, watching your smile with growing unease. You nod and brush off your maid's entreating hands to exit the safety of closed doors.

He is just a man, worse than a man, really. The way his breath comes short seeing you in your dressing gown, the soft white fabric hanging so delicately off of you, your silhouette illuminated through the linen by the flickering candlelight. You bend to pick a novel off your table. A dog. He's no better than a dog. His eyes rake over your exposed flesh, his fingers itch to grab, to touch, to ruin you for anyone else.

"I thought you might like this one. I know its not your usual fair, but-" You come too close to him, hold out your book too innocently. Youre too warm, too tempting, tried too hard to defend him. His fingers grip the back of your head, tight in your hair, tipping you back as he leans down before he can stop himself. Your eyes are wide with something he doesn't recognize --he knows all of your expressions but this one it seems-- his breathing comes heavy, panting in the short distance between your lips.

"Simon," you whisper, soft, honest, questioning. Is it fear in your eyes? He's worked so hard for so long to keep you from ever feeling that, and now you can only turn it on him. He hasn't heard you say his name in years, he doesn't want to hear it like this.

Ghost all but throws himself away from you. His own disgust with himself giving purpose to his actions. Your face falls, lips downturned and brows furrowed. This expression he knows, you're upset, and it's his fault.

"What's wrong?" You ask, he can't look at you, can't stare down his own shame. "I'm sorry, did I- I shouldn't have called you that." It twists like a knife in his chest to hear you apologize. You're right, you shouldn't have called him that, all you ever do is fill his head with delusions of something better than this daily torture.

"Nothing, I- that was a mistake," he growls, not even bothering to look at you. Your heart pulls so tight you think it might stop. A mistake, is that all it was? You reach out to touch his armor, to beg him to say it wasn't, and he jerks away from you again. "Forget that ever happened," his hand is tight on your door, "please."

Your heart jumps in your throat, you can see your maids watching you from the doorway in your perifery, watching it all unfold. You pull your hand back. One must always remain poised when observed by gossips. Even when they want nothing more than to fall apart. A mistake. "Of course," you steel yourself behind the voice of a princess, "its forgotten." You turn back to your maids, back to being dressed for dinner, "You're dismissed, see if you can't find someone to check your head. We wouldn't want you making any more mistakes."

"My lady," you hear the creak of his armor as he bows, the open and shut of your quarters' door. You're a fool to think he'd fight for you. To think you're more than just his duty. His mistake. Of course you are. Ghost wouldn't lay a finger on you.

#cod x reader #simon ghost riley #x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost call of duty #cod ghost #knight!ghost #medieval au #poking the bruise and poking the bruise and #i meant to finish this earlier but this weekend has been so busy #i wrote most of this at like midnight on friday bacause i literally could not stop thinking about it #where do duty and love meet? where do they mix and where do they so painfully diverge #just KISS HER you pathetic man #princess!reader

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bruciemilf · 1 year

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Y'all don't understand how much I want Harley to take Bruce on his first gay club experience. He's sheepish, unsure, playing with the strings of this corset she shoved him Into.

"So, bi or rainbow eyeshadow? Trans? Pan? Ace? Lesbian? Just trying to get the right thing here."

" Pink."

A snap of fingers, pleased, " Never thought I'd say this, but impeccable taste."

" You had a green mohawk and purple shorts last month."

" I was in a dark place. Now chop chop. We have a loooot of free drinks waiting for us."

Now just picture Bruce, sipping on a strawberry vodka cocktail, dressed in a nirvana crop top, matching shorts with fishnets beneath, all pretty on his stool.

He's info dumping about Gray Ghost lore to a bunch of leather daddies.

Harley's having a great night.

#I LOOOVE HIM SJSJS wheres my younger bruce meeting dilf clark at the gay bar aus????#bruce wayne #dc #battinson #harley quinn #dc comics #dc imagine #dcu #text #text post

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emry-stars-art · 7 months

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Find the mer au masterpost here 💕

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dat1angel · 6 months

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When Ra's needed an heir, Talia impregnated herself with The Detective's DNA to give him the perfect offspring. When she delived fraternal twins the boy was raised to one day take over the League and the girl was kept around so that she might one day provide the LoA with new recruits. When she came of age and learned that the only reason she was kept around was the idea of her future children, she fled. They never found her.

Years later, Duke Thomas introduces his family to his new boyfriend, Danny Fenton.

#dp x dc #dpxdc #trans danny fenton #twins au #danny and damian are twins #danny was born a girl #he ran away from the leauge and ended up with the Fentons #he was like 9 or 10 when this happened #they adopt him and he comes out as trans about age 12 #the Fentons are supportive and he starts being masc presenting #then the events of dp canon happen #minus phantom planet haha never heard of it #danny ends up telling his parents about being phantom at around age 16 #they accept him and do a complete 180 on their opinions about ghosts #danny moves to gotham after high school for college #where he meets duke #they hit it off immediately #duke can tell danny has some kind of abilities #which is what originally propts him to talk to danny #but he doesn't pressure him and lets him reveal them to him in his own time #meanwhile they grow closer and closer until nest thing you know they are going on their first date #danny x duke #what is their ship name again?#ghost lights #deadlight #will o wisp

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drawnfamiliarfaces · 1 month

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i... wrote a smol fic (っ´▽`*)っ

also!!!!! If you haven't seen it - shoutout to first ever published fic in Ninja Showdown/My Immortal Soul tags - Lustrous Red by @missadmyre !!!

#ninja showdown #my immortal soul #first ninja x chase young #rc9gn first ninja #first ninja #rc9gn #chase young #xiaolin showdown #randy cunningham 9th grade ninja #rc9gn plop plop #well i say smol fic.... but those 4k words felt very long.#i did say i was going to direct my energy into writing >.> and now look at me ive gone insane #no actually dont look at me im just gonna go cry over my 20k words of rough drafts for like dozen ideas that are now going #to haunt my every waking moment like JESUS i woke up today and literally wrote out 1k words of an idea for a modern au for those two TToTT #its literally an au where its a meet cute turned meet violent and first is randy's sorta dad and chase wants to adopt omi #not to mention a different AU where its an epic mystery adventure AAAAAAA someone heeeelppppp meeeee #also. its been a month but im still staring so intently at missadmyre's fic hoping for another crumb. like thank you sm for the food!!!!#ive literally been rereading it several times after i went insane about it on my main blog and im still slurping at it like a starved perso #Ive been collecting my ideas like a dragon but after reading that fic i was like: I WANT TO READ MORE FICS ABOUT THEM #but i dont wanna be a whiny baby&beg others and be annoying about it. So i put on my big person pants and was like f it WE R WRITINg NOW #so i dont care how bad my writing will be. we gonna be balling on those ideas and YES it doesnt make sense im just v rambly rn

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rulesofdisorder · 1 month

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in my heart of hearts i KNOW that jet would love arson if it wasn’t for the Horrors and the Circumstances and that is so sad for him sorry king you’re really missing out

#and that’s why jetko- *gunshot*#modern jetko au where they meet bc jet just set a small fire and zuko is a firefighter who arrived first at the scene #jet atla #jet #atla #avatar the last airbender

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inoreuct · 2 months

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been thinking about asura zoro lately.

possibly a prince sanji au where sora’s kicked her shitstain of an ex-husband out of the kingdom and his siblings are going through behavioural therapy,,,

at any rate, sanji’s wandering across the grounds one afternoon and he sees someone sitting beneath his favourite apple tree in the middle of the field. he thinks it’s yonji at first, but no— the hair’s too short and the wrong shade of green. less neon than his brother’s electric lime and more like… moss.

the man has one leg propped up with his arm resting on his knee, an apple clutched loosely in his hand. he turns as the grass rustles with sanji’s steps and sanji notes the vertical scar over his left eye that cuts through his brow and down his cheek. “you’re in my spot.”

“hm,” the man says, completely unbothered. he lifts the apple to take a bite and his open robe shifts with the wind, the hilts of the three swords tucked into his sash knocking gently against each other.

sanji narrows his eyes. “move.”

a slow, lazy grin. “no.”

“you—!” the prince is just about ready to boot this guy in the ass. “you do realise who i am, don’t you?”

“no,” the man repeats, shrugging a shoulder and peering down at his apple before taking another bite.

that gives sanji pause. everybody knows who he is. it’s inescapable— queen sora’s kindest son, with the golden hair and a heart to match. ocean eyes and the hands of a chef and legs steadier than any sailor’s. he has a duty to fulfil and an image to uphold, and it’s—

well. it’s just that sometimes, he thinks that he wasn’t made for this life at all— that he was meant to be out there, on the ocean, skipping over the waves with the wind in his hair and the sun on his brow, feeling the grit of sand between his teeth. he has satisfied himself with the comforts of royal life, with the orchards and the kitchens, but something pulls at him still. it tugs his heart towards the coast and whispers for him to shed the courtly graces he wears as tangibly as the cloak over his shoulders.

sanji is quiet as he reaches up, swallowing over the soft click of the clasp before red velvet falls into his hand. he drops it to the grass and lets it pool, puts one palm on the ground before settling against worn, rough bark and letting the pattern press into the skin of his spine.

“it’s peaceful here.” the man’s voice is low, slipping beneath the soft sigh of wind. “quiet.”

“it hadn’t always been,” sanji says, before he can stop himself. he has no reason to be doing this— to be saying anything at all, much less sitting down. he should be yelling for the guards and then taking this guy out himself. he’s a stranger who’d somehow made it onto royal grounds, through the extensive defences they had; one with three swords and scars, sanji reminds himself as he eyes the gnarly line of pearly tissue running diagonally down the man’s chest. he’s, by all definitions, a threat.

and yet, sanji hasn’t felt anything at all. no hostility, no fear— just… stillness, if he had to put a word to it. a sort of calm.

“the king… he was cruel,” he continues softly. “he treated my siblings and i like lab rats to be used. my mother was nothing more than a pretty thing to fill a space beside him. this palace, this kingdom used to be filled with war and pain and noise.” sanji chances a glance up to find the man already looking at him, and he quickly looks away. “sometimes, he’d come back from war stinking of blood and death. even worse was when he’d bring my siblings with him. he forced them to fight, see— didn’t even give them a choice, because of his experiments.”

the words are bitter as he spits them out, and sanji feels his hair bunch when he tilts his head back against the tree and blows out a breath. “i was always the failure.” the grass is damp with dew as he rubs a few blades between his fingers. “the weak one. the useless one. and i was the one who dragged him outside the city gates and told him that if i ever saw him again i’d take his head.”

he’s no longer as angry about it, he thinks. sanji has spent enough of his life being angry. the thought just carries a muted tone now, satisfied and a little victorious but also resigned— sometimes he looks at fathers in the squares and the markets, carrying their children on their shoulders and indulging them in the smallest of things, overpriced candy and tag on the dusty cobblestones, and his eyes burn. he should have had that. he never did, and he never will.

sanji lets his eyebrows flash up, swallowing against the tightness in his chest. “i don’t know why i’m telling you all this, anyway,” he says with a light, forced laugh. “i don’t even know who the hell you are.”

“nobody important,” the man hums. “not yet. but one day i’ll be the greatest swordsman in the world.”

the prince believes it. he feels something now, at least— a presence of sorts, like pressure from all sides, present but not pushing. just there. “i think… i want to get out of here.”

again, he doesn’t know why he says it. he has the urge to slap a hand over his mouth as soon as he does, in fact. because everything’s fine now, everything’s finally going well; judge is gone, his siblings are safe, his mother is safe, and he should be happy. he is happy. he gets to cook all he wants and he’s—

he’s not. he’s not happy. he wants to go, wants to— to grab a boat and disappear, sail to the edge of the horizon and then beyond. it aches in his chest like someone’s squeezing his heart, fingertips digging into tough muscle, and he rubs the heel of his hand through the fine weave of his shirt.

the man bites into his apple again, and the crisp crunch cuts through the still air. sanji lets his eyes slip shut.

“where do you want to go?” the man asks.

sanji laughs, a soundless exhale. “the all blue. it’s an ocean with every kind of fish you could imagine and then some. i want to open a restaurant. a place of my own where nobody will ever go hungry.”

a pause, and then the man turns to look at him. “do you know why i’m here?”

“no.” sanji cracks an eye open, sighing impatiently. “why?”

“the change. all this place has known for years was turmoil and war and chaos. and then suddenly… it all went silent.” he eyes sanji unreadably. “somebody took notice.”

somebody, huh? if sanji’s dealing with a religious nutcase, he might just burst into laughter. or knock this guy out. maybe both. “you believe in god, then?”

“no,” the man says flatly. “and even if one did exist, they didn’t help you then. they won’t help you now.”

the blonds’s eyes narrow as he sits up straight and slowly raises an eyebrow. “if that’s supposed to be a threat, mosshead, i’m not scared of you.”

“mosshead?!” the other splutters, the first sign of real human emotion sanji’s seen on him, and sanji laughs.

“it fits!”

“it’s—”

“blasphemous? disrespectful?” sanji teases, somehow more at ease than he’s felt in ages. he doesn’t know who this man is, and who he is doesn’t matter— he’s free to run his mouth, and he damn well will.

“you should be scared of me, you know,” the man says, voice gritty, and sanji smirks.

“why so?”

and— oh.

that presence from before increases exponentially, until he feels sweat bead beneath his collar. dirt gathers beneath his fingernails as he scrabbles backwards, instinctive, throat bobbing as he counts three, four, six arms, and three heads, and three grey eyes glinting like watered steel. wind whips through the clearing, shaking the branches of the tree— sanji reminds himself to close his mouth as he sits beneath the rustling, as black tendrils of shadow snake through the air, swelling around the man’s silhouette, silky and molten. it’s not just that overwhelming, omnipresent aura; he’s got to be two heads taller than a normal man at least.

sanji’s breath is stuck in his throat. and then he looks down; that half-eaten apple is still there, shiny and red. the man’s swords — nine of them, now — clatter gently by his hips, and his earrings jingle with something that almost sounds like gentle laughter, and his hair is still impossibly green.

“…is this supposed to be intimidating?” he offers, climbing to his feet with a bored cock of his hip. “i mean, it’s impressive and all, mossy, don’t get me wrong, but—”

the man’s form snaps back to normal in an instant, leaving him with an almost comical look of disbelief on his face. “you’re fuckin’ crazy.”

“i’m traumatised,” sanji corrects, cackling. “after my bastard of a sperm donor, i doubt i could be scared of much else. besides, you haven’t done anything but talk to me. that’s a lot more kindness than most people can say they’ve shown.”

he watches the emotions flash across the man’s face like a play-by-play until his strong features finally settle on something not dissimilar to determination. “we’re going.”

“huh?” the sudden subject change throws him. “where?”

“the all blue,” is the impatient answer as the stranger crosses his arms. “didn’t you say you wanted to go?”

“yes, but—” sanji makes a series of exasperated noises as he tries to find his words. “i can’t just— go! i have responsibilities, i need to—”

“you need to be free,” the man grunts, and sanji stops short. “can’t keep a bird caged and expect it to be happy.”

the prince bites his lip, heart pounding. this is crazy. this is insane, it’s how kidnappings happen, he shouldn’t even he considering this. “…if, even if we were to go— how would we get there? how would we even find it?”

“we’ll figure it out?” the man pins him with a look that says duh, like it’s no big deal. “i know a witch who’s a navigator, she owes me a favour. and a guy who works in a shipyard. it’ll work.” he looks like he’s about to start tapping his foot, but then his expression softens. “one day,” he says, eyes skating across sanji’s face. “we go for one day, sunrise to sundown, and if you don’t like it i’ll bring you right back.”

sanji’s chest aches. his breath trembles against his teeth. “why?”

his stranger swallows, gaze tilting down as his fingers drift to the hilt of the white sword by his side, like it’s a comfort. “you aren’t scared of me.” his eye is a flash of silver as he looks up again, bottled starlight and iron. “maybe that’s more kindness than i’m usually shown, too.”

maybe sanji’s losing his mind. maybe he’d lost it a long time ago. because he finds himself nodding slowly and breathing, “okay.”

a sharp, sure nod. “we leave tomorrow. settle your affairs and meet me down by the beach at dawn.”

“alright.”

sanji watches the man turn and amble away, in no apparent, rush, before a thought strikes him. “wait!”

green hair shifts in the sunlight as he twists back around, one scarred palm by his ear. “hah?”

“what’s your name?” sanji yells across the clearing, and the smile that’s sent his way is blinding.

“meet me and i’ll tell you, curls!” the man yells back, and then he’s gone. just— disappears, like he’d been a figment of imagination.

an apple core tips against sanji’s ankle, pale and clean.

(sora takes one look at his face when he asks and lets him go.

“you’d always been restless,” she tells him gently, as she helps him pack his things into a burlap satchel and sets his spice tins carefully into their case. she says he’d been loud even as a baby, wailing right out of the womb with eyes the blue of cornflowers and summer skies and the water, riotous and gentle and vast like his heart.

she sends him off with a kiss to his forehead, hands cupping his face as she smiles against his skin, and this time sanji welcomes the burn in his eyes.

he finds zoro by the beach like something out of a fairytale, skin bronzed in the light of a new day, glowing with the orange dancing off the waves. he has a boat waiting, barely big enough for two, wrist draped over his sword hilts as he yawns and scratches at his head, and sanji grins so hard his face hurts.

his palms on the lip of sealed wood have his heart pounding hard enough to feel it against his ribs, his shoes sinking into the sand as they push the dinghy out to sea and jump on, and he shoves his hand in the water just because he can.

“zoro,” the man says abruptly, two extra shadows framing him in the sunrise like a mirage, and sanji’s lips curl up at the edge. “that’s my name.”

“okay, mossy,” he sing-songs, and bites down a laughing scream when zoro rocks the boat so hard he nearly falls out.

he does tell zoro his name, when he decides that he’ll stay. they’re still on their little boat; it’s sunset now, and the green-haired man is taking up all the space in his other form, stretched out with his hands folded behind his head. “i’m sanji, by the way,” he offers, offhand, and watches zoro crack an eye open to grunt in acknowledgment.

he pretends not to see the soft smile that the other man flips over to hide. zoro hardly ends up using it anyway, the brute.

sanji really doesn’t mind.)

#don’t know WHERE i was going with this #like feeling around a wall in a dark room with paint on my hand #call that ABSTRACT ART 😏👍🏼#one piece #zosan #roronoa zoro #black leg sanji #zoro x sanji #sanji #one piece sanji #one piece zosan #one piece zoro #zoro #ino writes #this is an au where sanji meets zeff out there i guess… as of now the poor babygirl still thinks he’ll never get Fathered™#JUST YOU WAIT SANJI JUST YOU WAIT #mmkay goodnight yall #and happy 初二 to those who celebrate cny muakss

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