#CAUSE ONE DAY I’LL LEAVE A PHANTOM

[xx-bossman-xx]

I want to eat the soul of the damned

How about the broken the beaten and the damned

#CAUSE ONE DAY I’LL LEAVE A PHANTOM #TO LEAD YOU IN THE SUMMER #TO JOIN THE BLACK PARADE #boss asks #shorts wars #team clones

[luxaofhesperides]

Ghostlights where Phantom saves Duke or the Signal, and a week later (at a Wayne gala or some other place) Duke recognizes the light/aura coming from Danny

Putting off gala prep was perhaps not the best plan. Duke spent the past month insisting that everything is fine and he has it under control. Duke is also a lying liar who lies, and now he’s frantically trying to pick up his suit in time to get it dry cleaned and altered as necessary. 

Alfred would be disappointed in him, but in Duke’s defense, he had to go out of town on a mission to bust a growing drug cartel, and then spent half a week visiting a shelter for metas on the run (unofficial and hidden away) to help everyone find new homes and learn to control their powers. These things take time!

Unfortunately, gala prep also takes time, and since it’s a charity gala for funding the education of every Gothamite student, it’s not one he can slip out of. The entire family is being strong-armed into attending and not making a scene until the donation period in the first half is over. 

Duke knows he’s not the only one who’s scrambling to get ready for a gala that’s taking place in three days, but they’re not helping him, so it feels like he’s the only one messing up. 

“Sorry!” he calls behind him as he sprints through a group of people. 

He could have asked someone to drive him, but he knows they’re all busy and doesn’t want his own poor time management to cause problems for anyone else. Even though he’s sure Bruce is looking for an excuse to get out of a mandatory Wayne Enterprises board meeting that both Lucius and Tim dragged him to.

RIP Bruce. He will be missed.

The Diamond District is full of people walking the streets, sprinting between parked cars and waiting for their rides. They’re all dressed nicely, making him feel out of place. It’s a feeling that’s never left him since he joined the Waynes but it’s particularly bad when he’s left to navigate these spaces alone. Rich people and socialites are a different kind of human, one that Duke doesn’t care to understand; there’s greed in all of them, turning them heartless, and they can give as much as they want to charity but it won’t change the fact that all they do is a performance to make people like them, rather than a desire to do anything good. 

The sooner this is over, the better. He keeps going, hoping that he can still make it to his appointment with the tailor. Alfred recommended the store, then set up the appointment, so all Duke has to do is trust their judgment as they get him fitted. He’s still got twenty minutes until the scheduled time, but some unspoken rule makes it so he has to show up fifteen minutes early for better service or risk being turned away and told to reschedule. 

Duke slows to a walk when he catches sight of the store, the trying to catch his breath and look more composed before he reaches the door. He takes a moment to straighten his clothes a bit, then opens the door and steps in.

The bell jingles pleasantly above his head. The store is empty of any other customers, and the employee at the front counter looks up with a plastered on smile. 

“I’ll be with you in a moment!” she says, then looks down at her phone and types something out before placing it under the counter. A tablet comes out instead and she swipes through a few screens, then sets it down and look at Duke again. “How can I help you, sir?”

“I have an appointment? For a suit fitting. Under the name Thomas.”

She taps on the screen for a minute, then nods and gives him another customer service smile. “Alright, I’ll go ahead and grab the tailor. They’ll be out with your suit soon. Please, feel free to take a seat or browse some of our suits. We just recently got a new collection in from Italy.”

“Sure, thanks. I’ll just… be here, I guess.”

The employee takes her tablet and disappears through a door, leaving him alone in the store. He doesn’t want to sit down, not while his heart is still trying to settle from his sprint through half of Diamond District, so Duke wanders around the neat stacks of dress shirts and vests, pants and belts and shoes lined up neatly against the walls. 

He takes a moment to shoot Alfred a text that he’s at the tailor for his fitting appointment. Steph’s sent him a long string of videos online, and he’s just about to go through them when the bell rings again. 

Duke glances up and watches a guy walk into the store. He looks around, makes eye contact with Duke, then quickly looks down, taking a seat by the door.

Probably another upper class citizen uncomfortable with the fact that someone in jeans and a hoodie is shopping for suits. Shaking his head lightly, Duke wanders deeper into the store to get some distance between them so they could ignore each other more easily. It’s only until the tailor comes out, and then he can go to a fitting room and be done with this whole thing, so Duke resigns himself to suffering through the tense silence. 

How long is he even supposed to wait? He can only look at clothes in one of three colors before he gets bored. 

He goes to another rack, trying to see if he can notice anything different about these shirts. 

And then he hears a shoe scuff against the floor behind him. He tenses up, but before he can turn around, a belt is wound around his throat, pulling him back and choking him. 

Duke drops his weight, tucking his chin and gets a hand against the inside of the belt to try to push it away. His back hits someone’s chest and he’s trapped, focused on trying not to be choked to death while also keeping his vigilante abilities and meta powers secret. 

More footsteps come from behind, and a soaked cloth is pressed against his nose and mouth.

Chloroform, he realizes, familiar with the smell from Bruce’s training. But training isn’t enough to keep him from being knocked out, and he quickly slips away from the waking world, falling to the ground. 

Just before he passes out completely, he hears the employee who greeted him say, “I’m not sure how much Wayne would be willing to pay for him, but let’s start high and negotiate lower. New kid can’t possibly be worth that much…”

Duke wakes up groggily, memories of what happened quickly snapping into place. He’s too out of it still to get up, but he’s awake enough to be offended. Sure he’s the new kid, and barely even a Wayne, but he’s still worth a lot!

Kidnappers these days. So rude.

He doesn’t hear anyone around him, and it feels like he’s lying on a cold concrete floor. Basement, maybe? Warehouse? Storage unit tucked away somewhere? There’s nothing much to see when Duke is able to open his eyes, squinting bareilly at his surroundings. His arms are tied behind him, wrists bound, but they left his legs alone. 

If he could just hit the panic button on his bracelet…

Duke wiggles around, fighting through the lingering effects of Chloroform, and manages to sit up. If he strains his hearing, he thinks he can hear voices outside of the empty room he’s been left in. There’s a window high up, too high for a normal person to reach without help, but if he can use the shadows to travel through it, then he may be able to escape on his own. 

First things first: he needs to free his hands before anyone comes in to check on him.

They used zip ties on him, which is inconvenient. He’s learned how to get out of them, but it’s difficult enough without being drugged and having to do it behind his back. 

He’s feeling the zip ties bite into his wrists just as there’s a crash from outside the room. His kidnappers yell, alarmed, and are quickly silenced. That’s rarely ever a good sign. Duke renews his efforts to escape, ignore the pain in pushing against his binds like this. 

The door opens. Duke hears the small click of a lock disengaging and freezes. Then he gets to his feet, still unsteady, and prepares to ram his head into anyone who comes near him like some sort of deranged battering ram, or a drunk raging bull. 

Duke is ready for the worst: a gang hoping to steal away a Wayne hostage, a Rogue, Gnomon popping in to cause trouble for the sole purpose of getting on Duke’s nerve. 

He’s not expecting another teenage boy, who is literally glowing, to poke his head in and zero in on Duke. He blinks, then smiles; it’s friendly and sincere, nothing like the employee who helped kidnap him. 

“Hey!” he says, coming into the room properly. He’s floating a good foot off the ground, eyes a bright neon green, with white hair that sways as if he’s underwater. “Are you okay? I saw them drag you out of the back of the store and followed them, but I got a bit lost. Sorry for taking so long to get here.”

“...It’s fine?” Duke offers, trying to wrap his head around what’s happening. “I wasn’t expecting a rescue so soon, anyways. Think you can help me out here?”

“Yeah, of course!” he flies closer, then drops down to the ground behind Duke. He hums lightly under his breath, and then Duke feels a cold touch on his wrist and the zip ties are suddenly gone. 

Duke blinks, then brings his arms in front of him. He moves around a bit to make sure he’s not hallucination, and sure enough, he’s free and unbound because a random meta teenager vanished the zip ties into the ether, or something. 

“Thanks, man. Any idea where we are?”

“Not a clue. I got lost coming here, and I was following them. I don’t think you should trust any directions I give.”

“Fair enough,” Duke laughs. “I’m Duke, by the way.”

“Phantom.”

“Well, thanks for the save, Phantom. Can I treat you to something?”

“Like, coffee?”

“Sure. Or brunch, or ice cream. Whatever you want, really.”

Phantom considers it for a moment, then shakes his head. “Sorry, I would love to but going out in public looking like this,” he gestures to himself, “Is not a great idea. Thanks for the offer though. You got a ride?”

Duke pats his pockets, then sighs. “My phone’s gone. I still have my wallet, though.”

“I fly you to someplace you can call someone, if you’d like.”

“You sure? I could probably just walk out of here and call a taxi.”

“I don’t think walking around by yourself after being kidnapped is a great idea,” Phantom says, doubtfully. “Seriously, let me fly you.”

He should just hit the panic button and wait for someone to show up to get him. He shouldn’t go to some unknown location with a meta he literally just met. 

But, you know what? No one else can say they got kidnapped twice in one day, so Duke nods and says, “Sure, sweep me off my feet, Phantom. You gotta commit to this rescue.”

Phantom laughs. And then he does sweep Duke off his feet into a princess carry with a cheeky grin and flies them out the building, which turns out to be an abandoned apartment building slated for demolition. 

“Keep this up and you’ll be replacing Superman in no time,” Duke jokes.

“I think I could manage it,” Phantom replies thoughtfully. “I mean, I’m already prettier than him, don’t you think?”

“Oh, definitely. The glow really brings out your eyes.”

Phantom gets him a few blocks away when Duke recognizes where they are, and quickly directs him into Crime Alley. They land on top of one of Jason’s safe houses, and while he’s sure there’s enough security to take out a SWAT Team, that’s absolutely not going to stop him from breaking in to use one of Jason’s burner phones and eat his leftovers. 

He’s set down on his feet gently, and as soon as Phantom sees that he’s fine, able to walk and everything, he floats back up, just out of reach.

“Be careful, okay?” he says, getting ready to leave.

“I’ll do my best. Hey, are you gonna be in Gotham for a while, or…?”

Phantom gives him a tired smile. “Nah. I’m just passing through. As long as my luck doesn’t get even worse, then I should be out of here in a few days.”

“Shame,” Duke says, giving Phantom a very visible once over. He’s pretty tall, and Duke can see some muscle on him, and the tight black outfit really adds to his look. The glow that comes out of his chest makes him look ethereal and Duke is beyond glad that he got such a charming rescuer.

Phantom doesn’t blush like a normal person. He glows brighter instead, curling into himself a bit as he looks away, unable to stop the smile from growing on his face. 

“I guess,” he shrugs. “Are you really going to be alright from here?”

“Yeah, man, I have a friend who lives here. I’ll just bother him until he agrees to give me a ride.”

“Alright.” Phantom drifts away, glancing behind him before turning back to Duke. “I’ll get going then. Take care, Duke!”

Duke waves and watches as Phantom begins to fly away. Then Phantom… disappears? Or rather, his body does but Duke can see an orb of light making its way across Gotham, almost like a star fallen from the sky.

He stays on the roof until the light is long gone. When he’s finally ready to go in and steal from Jason, the sun has completely set. 

And he still doesn’t have his suit.

Duke sighs, and mentally prepares himself to other day of stressing out about the gala.

Three days of stress and last minute scrambling leave Duke in the Gotham Museum of Modern Art with Steph, Tim, Cass, and Damian. They’re hiding in the photography gallery to avoid other guests, taking a break from being polite and letting thinly veiled, passive aggressive insults slide over them.

.

.

.

“How much longer must we suffer this before we can go?” Damian grumbles, looking like he’s do anything to get his hands on a blade. Which, considering how many people tried to either pinch his cheeks are say some racist remark about him and his mother, is totally fair. Duke would just punch them, but sometimes a little drama helped get the message across. 

“At least two more hours,” Tim says, not bothering to look up from his phone. From what few glimpses of the screen Duke caught, he’s leading a Titans missions through text and clever hacking. Though it may be more accurate to call is a Young Justice mission since there’s no way any of this was authorized by a Justice League member. 

Also Anita, suited up as Empress, is there. If they aren’t on the news for property destruction and absolutely batshit wild shenanigans, Duke will have to check on Tim to make sure he’s not a pod person sent to infiltrate the family. 

“Think we can sneak out without anyone noticing?” Steph asks, looking at the emergency exit longingly.

Cass shakes her head and points to the door leading to the ballroom. When they look over, Dick makes very deliberate eye contact with them and give them a smile that looks stretched across his face.

Tim winces and pushes Duke. “Oh, something went down. Go take over for him and let Dick rest in here for a bit.”

“Man, why does it have to be me?” he grumbles even as he stands. Dick lets out a heavy breath and gives Duke a grateful smile, patting on the shoulder before shoving him out the door. 

As soon as he’s back into the main hallway, the music and chatter swell, no longer muffled by the thick walls of the photography wing. A few people come and go from the ballroom, no doubt looking for the restroom. 

Or more private places for… other things. Things they definitely shouldn’t be doing in an art museum.

He really can’t wait for this night to be over.

Duke joins the rest of the guests, fake smile on his face, and quickly makes his way to the snack table. He might as well make the most of his time stuck out here. Maybe he could even cause another relationship scandal by implying that Bruce is sleeping with one of partners when in hearing distance of a couple. Maybe even both of them. 

Bruce would go with it. It’s hilarious and he also needs something to make these events bearable.

Sadly, he doesn’t see any good targets as he scans the ballroom. A few people are dancing, while others are talking in small circles, closed off from outsiders. There’s an entire table of old ladies with glasses of wine in front of them; Duke considers hanging around them, since they confess to a lot of crimes after a few glasses. It’s fascinating. 

Also, he does kind of miss hanging out with the one old lady who’s declared herself his high society grandmother and told him stories of how she used to go to bars to find racist people or Klan members during the Jim Crow era, seduce them, then poison them and get their addresses so a few gangs she was friends with would fuck them up.

Granny Kaliasto is the coolest person ever. 

Just as he’s about to finish his last mini rolled crepe, Duke catches sight of one of the few teenagers still in the ballroom. The others, mostly stuck up rich kids no one actually likes, have already left to take over some other part of the museum to gossip until their parents decide it’s time to go home. These two are clearly not part of that crew, what with the girl being very goth and in a poofy, ripped dress, and the boy having already taken his jacket off to keep over his forearm, the top button of his shirt popped open.

They might be cool. He’s hoping they’re cool because he desperately needs some company to keep from dying of boredom while the gala continues on.

Duke walks over to them, going around the side of the ballroom, until he’s close enough to hear them talking.

The boy has his back to Duke, but the girl sees him. She immediately scowls and slaps the boys shoulder, eyes locked on Duke.

“Got another comment about my dress?” she says, voice sharp and acidic.

“Another?” Duke repeats. “I was just bored and wanted to talk to people who were my age. Sorry?”

The boy smacks the girl’s arm, then turns to face Duke. “Sorry about her! Sam is just naturally rude and aggressive. Tonight’s been a bit rough, with this crowd.”

Duke goes to say something, but the words stick in his throat when he sees the boy’s eyes shift from deep blue to an electric green. When he focuses, he can see a faint glow in his chest, the same glow he saw in Phantom.

“Dude? You alright?”

Sam looks him over judgmentally. “I guess it’s nice that I’m not being ogled for once, but don’t do that shit to Danny either.”

“Wait, that’s not what I was doing!” Duke hurries to say, snapped out of his shock. “I just… you look a lot like someone I met recently.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. What was your name? I’m Duke, by the way.”

He holds out a hand, and the boy shakes it with a small smile. “Danny. I don’t think we’ve met. I mean, I’m only here because Sam wouldn’t come to this gala without me, so her parents flew me in.”

“You from out of town?”

“Sam and I are from Illinois. Her parents are traveling around the east coast right now, and they decided to spend a week in Gotham to talk business.”

“I’d ask how it is, but outsiders tend to really hate Gotham, so…”

Sam barks out a sharp laugh. “Oh please, we can handle Gotham. Our town might not be as big and well known as Gotham, but we got our own shit to deal with there.”

“I do get shot at a lot back home,” Danny adds thoughtfully. “And that’s without the ghosts.”

“Woah, what?”

“Up for a bit of a story?” Danny asks, impish grin on his face. By his side, Sam brings a hand up to cover a manic smile, shoulders already shaking with laughter. 

This is already better than the grandma gang. Duke leans against the wall, getting settled in, and says, “Always, man. Hit me with it.”

The next hour an a half passes quickly with Sam and Danny dramatically narrating some of the things that have happened in their town. Duke listens, absolutely enraptured, and doesn’t even notice the Waynes file into the ballroom again. 

Unfortunately, they bring with them the attention of most of the ballroom, including Bruce and Sam’s parents. 

She cuts the current story about Box Ghost short with a heavy sigh. “Hold up, I need to greet the Waynes properly while my parents are watching.” She steps in front of Duke and Danny, holding out a hand with a pained smile.

Tim takes it first, giving a solid shake, and introductions start. 

Free from the rules of high society, if only for the moment, Duke leans closer to Danny and whispers to him, “Phantom. Wanna get out of here?”

Danny flinches and turns to him looking panicked. “How did you know?”

“I kinda got magic eyes. I see a lot of things normal humans can’t. Don’t worry about it. I still owe you, so you wanna get out of here?”

He watches as Danny glances around the ballroom, then back to him, clearly weighing out his options. Then he nods and says, “Know where to get a good milkshake around here?”

“Sure do.”

“I guess you’re the one rescuing me this time.”

“Not a rescue,” Duke corrects, and casually picks Danny up over his shoulder into a fireman’s carry, “A kidnapping.”

Danny laughs and waves Sam and all the others goodbye as Duke marches out of the ballroom.

“Don’t bother me for the next two hours!” he calls to the Waynes, “I’m going on a date!”

There are shocked gasps and murmurs all through the crowd. But as he spins around to wave at his shocked and easily amused family, he also catches sight of Granny Kaliasto raising her half full wine glass towards him.

She really is the coolest.

He’s definitely telling her all about this at the next event they attend together. It’ll be nice to have a few stories of his own to share.

#ghostlights #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #prompt fill #my writing #theyre just so casual in this fic #duke gets kidnaps. nbd tbh. saved by a glowing flying guy. nbd. duke clocks dannys identity instantly. nbd. #theyre just chilling. no time to freak out they on a mission to get milkshakes!! #sam is cackling once they leave and people start trying to figure out who they were and how audacious they were in leaving like that #lots of people ask bruce abt duke and his actions. the other siblings are trying so hard to get info abt danny from sam but shes not cracki #dick asks jason to follow them and get info bc this milkshake date is now an urgent mission. jason blocks him. #damian and sam do bond over animal rights and environmentalism later tho. they just share protesting tips and best ways to cause a scene #once again peppering in ocs bc i love making ocs #(<-says the girl literally writing an original superhero novel bc she cant stop making ocs. as if this is news to anyone) #thanks for the prompt!!!

[fieldofdaisiies]

Whispers of the Forgotten | pt. 1

pairing: azriel x reader | type: angst | words: 800 | masterlist

Bloody and broken your body slumps to the ground, his hands, the strong grip he had on you, still lingering like a phantom touch.

Ragged breath whoosh in and out of your lungs, the crisp air burning down your throat, your chest aching, like sharp claws are digging right into the flesh. You want to scream, but your mouth is too dry, your throat hurting too much. There is nothing but an endless void inside your heart and mind, and yet a whirlwind of fury starts to boil within.

The creaking of the door hinges is what makes you tip your head back, eyes burning, vision blurry due to the dust in them. But you see him. It’s not too late. You see his face once last time. The face you will remember forever - loathe forever.

"Azriel," you seethe, but your voice is hoarse and breaks before it can reach him. Or that’s what you think.

The young male‘s head whips towards you. He heard you. Or the swirling shadows always dancing around him heard you. They calm down, almost like they are waiting for what you are about to say. 

You brace your bloody fists on the ground, knuckles white from how hard you curl your fingers towards your palms. Your gaze drops for a split second, landing on his scarred hands, gripping the bloody hunting knife tightly. That damn knife that caused you the flesh deep wound on your belly, now dripping with blood and soon puss.

"Yes," you breathe, trying to summon every little ounce of energy you have left. You force ypur eyes to meet his. "That’s right, Azriel." Your eyes lock with his. "And I’ll remember your damn name forever…" You push up, getting on your knees. "Until I do my last breathe. I will personally carve it into your grave stone. And you will remember my name. Forever."

Your teeth are bared, blood and drool running down your chin. "You will remember my name when I rip open your throat with my claws. You will remember my name when—"

"Let’s go, Az. Our job here is done. The High Lord expects us to be back by now."

Azriel is not alone. Someone is with him. Cassian, one of the best Illyrian warriors there are. Right now…his usual confidence is gone. He looks haunted, scared, impatient. He wants Azriel to come with him. Right in this moment.

But Azriel’s lingers. The male doesn’t move. Not even when Cassian clasps his shoulder - tightly. 

Azriel's gaze is trained on you, eyes wide open.

"Az," Cassian warns, curling his gloved fingers around Azriel's biceps. "We need to leave."

Azriel snaps out of his trance and finally averts his gaze, without a look back, they leave, wind blowing through the prison, thrashing against the walls, howling. 

You are alone. Cold. Bloody. Broken. 

A cry parts your lips - full of fury and pain. You thrash your fists against the cool ground, moist with mould and grimy water. 

You are trapped in a cell that seems to be suffocating you, its walls seeming to press inwards, the space getting narrower and narrower by the second. 

You are locked in. Forever. Until the last day of your immortal life. Or until you go insane and forget even your own name. 

Another scream leaves you. Your body is shaking, trembling with cold and hurt. Eventually, you lift your gaze to look around. There is just a small cot draped in a thin blanket and a weathered stool and nothing else. The walls are made of dark stone. Moss and lichen crawl up on them, making decay even more apparent in this place. They bear scars—scratches of beings who have been in this cell before you. 

The air is heavy, thick with desperation. And it is cold. So damn cold, making you see your own breath.

You know this a place where spirits are broken, where the very essence of a person is eroded when you go insane. But your spirit won't be broken. You will get out. 

Shadows dance across the walls and make you remember him. 

Azriel. The shadowsinger. You will remember him forever. Until the day you die. Until the day you personally carve out his heart. 

He left you in pieces and the shards for you to pick up with your already wounded hands.

He is going to pay for this. They all are. 

Nothing is visible through the narrow, slit-like window that seems more like a mockery than a source of light. But you can hear a storm raging outside, branches and the wind hitting the walls of the Prison and it matches the storm brewing inside of you. You won't die here. You will get out of here. And you will get your payback. This is a promise. 

A promise to Azriel. A promise to your mate.

tags (crossed-out I couldn't tag) : @juulle987 @marimorena06 @danikasthings @younxii@nightcourtwritings @mrofontaine @lunalilyf @whor-3-crux @tired-all-the-time @anni-was-here @ummmmmwat @azbracadabra @j-pendragonx @hollyismentallyillhelp @famousbasementpainter @bsenpai @lena-davina @red-highlady @thesugatoyourtae @azrielsbabyg @aroseinvelaris @moony-thoughts @wrensical003 @cherryjain17 @moonfawnx @crushedcloudsx @devilsfoodcake22  @valeridarkness @azrielscertifiedslut @mulansaucey @cynicalpotato95 @hanasakr @high-bi-andreadytocry @eerievixen @feyretopia @moonlightazriel @randomness-it-is @brekkershadowsinger @eliieee23 @girasoli-e-sorrisi @illyrianvalkyriecarynthian  @kennedy-brooke @highladyofillyria @theworthlessqueen @marina468 @topaz125 @illyrian-dreamer @azriels-mate123 @eos-princess @courtofjurdan @a-frog-with-a-laptop @insufferablebookaddict @callmeblaire

tags wotf: @goldenmagnolias @chessebookgirl @blackgirlmagicforever @mollygetssherlockcoffee @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @janebirkln @cleverzonkwombatsludge @namelesssav @sidthedollface2 @brujitafantomatico @ruler-of-hades @favsrachz @katherinejess @jesus-is-me @ashbatz @onyx-obsession @mischiefmanagers @thesnugglingduck @wandas-dream @emryb

#azriel x reader #azriel #azriel acotar #acotar #acosf #azriel shadowsinger

[fuckmyskywalker]

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 — 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐬𝐨𝐧!𝐀𝐧𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧 𝐒𝐤𝐲𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐫.

18+. Dead Dove Do Not Eat. Fauxcest/Stepcest. Stepson!Anakin X Stepmother!Reader. Age-Gap. Implied power imbalance. Minor Dubcon. Fem!Reader/Afab!Reader. Handjob. Minor tit play. Obi-Wan is Anakin's father in this one. | Word count: 0.6k (not proofread!)

It's happening! Minors DNI. If you don't like it... DNI too! ;)

Anakin’s breakup was a pain to watch and seeing him so distressed and sad broke your heart. You did everything you could to help him— but it was quite a hard task. Anakin refused to leave his bedroom for a couple of days, only getting up to shower and be held by you. He barely touched the plates you left on the nightstand and you couldn’t bear to see the dark circles under his beautiful blue eyes.

His father was worried about him, but you promised Obi-Wan you would help Anakin and you would never break your promise.

Everything you did was for him. He was yours too. You always loved him as such.

“Can you stay a little longer?” Anakin whispers against your chest, tracing the swell of your left breast with his lips. “I’m— I’m not ready yet, Mom.”

“I’ll stay all night if you need me to, Ani,” You kiss the top of his head, sneaking your hand in between his thighs and slowly jerking him. You know how sexually frustrated he has been, you know how much Anakin yearns for relief. A good mother would help her stepson— the boy you love with your whole heart. “Just let Mommy take care of you.”

So Anakin lets go, forgetting those memories that make his stomach twist and his eyes stream hopeless tears, allowing himself to be taken care of— and it’s nice. It’s a warm, soft feeling that invades his senses and numbs his pain. When your tits brush his face and he sucks on them greedily, or when you sit on top of him, riding him and cooing at him… that’s when Anakin forgets the world outside your… unconditional and loving embrace even exists. His hands knead your chest, enjoying the weight and your heartbeat against his palm. He likes you to close his heartbeats with yours.

A loud groan escapes his chapped lips when your hand strokes faster, stopping briefly to let a globe of spit fall onto your open palm and spread it up and down his cock which makes him moan again. How could someone give up on those pretty sounds? You are well aware of how badly Anakin’s ex-girlfriend treated him and how she barely agreed to touch him. Only to phantom that thought you could sense the anger boiling in your stomach. 

But it’s alright. Because you are here. When the world fails, when everything shatters— Anakin knows he can come back home to you, to the place he will always be welcomed.

His father wouldn’t understand it. It’s different. A mom’s love is different. 

“How do you feel?” You ask, using that maternal tone that makes Anakin’s cock throb in your hand, You notice it, you notice everything about him, you know your stepson like the back of your hand. Sweetly, you brush the strands of sweaty blonde hair that curl over his forehead, leaning down to kiss it causing him to whimper. Really, really pretty noises…

“Better,” He chokes, lifting his hips, silently asking for more. “So much better—” Anakin closes his eyes, biting his lower lip. His heart could explode at any second from this raw, pure, selfless love that he has for you. It’s that sick, precious filler that his poor tainted heart needs. “Thank you for staying, mommy. I d–don’t deserve it.” There he goes again. Thinking he doesn’t deserve anything good— just like his ex said before she broke up with him.

“Nonsense,” You scoff, kissing his parted lips and caressing his cheeks, brushing away those tears that break your heart. As long as you are alive, no one will hurt your little prince. “You deserve everything, Ani. Don’t let anyone make you think otherwise.”

“I love you, mommy.”

#𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 anya writes! #stepson!anakin #stepson!anakin skywalker #stepmother!reader #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker x reader smut #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin smut #anakin x reader #anakin x fem!reader #anakin skywalker x fem!reader #anakin skywalker one shot

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♥︎ 𝖇𝖑𝖆𝖘𝖕𝖍𝖊𝖒𝖔𝖚𝖘 𝖗𝖚𝖒𝖔𝖚𝖗𝖘 ♥︎

♥︎ Pairing: best friend!jongho x ghost!chubby!fem!reader, ghost!mingi x ghost!chubby!fem!reader

♥︎ Genre: fluff/angst (sorta)/supernatural au/suggestive

♥︎ Summary: Choi Jongho's apartment has a ghost problem and you're it. For so long you've been his little secret but, after spilling his secret on a drunk night out, he makes things more complicated for himself than he ever could've imagined.

♥︎ Word Count: 2.3k

♥︎ Warnings: You're a ghost, babes. You and Mingi are ghosts. So your life/feelings as a ghost are expressed but nothing super heavy/dark. Light expression of sexual thoughts. Cursing. Mention of other members. Intro to a love triangle. This one's Jongho focused w/ intro to Mingi at the end, & that's all, darling.

♥︎ A/N: Why am I writing multi-part (posting pt 2 this weekend) supernatural fic where you find yourself in a Jongho/Mingi love triangle? Because it's halfway to Halloween. Jk. I did it cause I wanted to and I'd do it again. Mwahahaha.

“A ghost? Like dressed in a white dress floating around your apartment going ‘Booooo’ ghost?” San teases, raising a skeptical eyebrow in Jongho’s direction.

Jongho groans, taking a seat at the polished wooden table at the center of the break room. He should’ve known that running his mouth to Wooyoung after one too many drinks would lead to all of the guys finding out about it. Anything you ever tell Wooyoung goes in one ear and right out of his mouth.

Taking a sip of his coffee, Jongho almost wishes he were a ghost himself. “She doesn’t go ‘Booooo’ and she doesn’t wear a white dress.” 

Seated across from him, feet kicked up on the table, Woo sports a mischievous grin. “So, what does she wear?”

Hongjoong sneaks up behind Woo, wringing his hands on the back of his chair. “Leave him alone” he hisses, popping Woo in the head with a half empty water bottle. Woo flinches, crying out in pain. “You might be the boss but that doesn’t mean you can hit me!” Hongjoong just rolls his eyes, nudging him out of the chair and taking it for himself. “That’s exactly what that means.” 

A thousand thoughts swirl around Jongho’s mind. There’s no way he’s answering that question. But the silence is getting to him. The curious stares of his three best friends dare him to blurt out details they’ll no doubt use to torture him with. “Yoga pants and a t-shirt” Jongho mumbles under his breath, instantly regretting his decision to speak.

Hongjoong squints, leaning in closer, “Did you say…yoga pants and a t-shirt?” San freezes in place, a fork full of salad hovering near lips that curl into a smile as Hongjoong repeats the words. 

His three friends burst into laughter. Especially Woo who can't keep from howling at this new bit of information. Hongjoong tries and fails to supress some of his amusement but the other two couldn’t care less. They’re almost doubled over in disbelief. “Boys, I think he’s finally lost it” Woo says, patting Jongho on the shoulder.

Jongho grabs him by the wrist, squeezing it just enough to make his annoyance be known. “I’m stronger than Hongjoong. If I hit you I’ll break something.” Knowing better than to test him too much, Woo pulls his hand back. “Hey, leave him alone!” San demands, coming to Woo's defense, “It’s not his fault your apartment’s haunted by a phantom yoga instructor.”

Drinking down the rest of his coffee at record speed, Jongho rises from his chair. “Fuck you guys.” He turns to Hongjoong, his stone face plunging the room into silence once more, “I’m taking an early day today.” 

Hongjoong must admit he thought it was a prank when Woo first told him what Jongho had confessed at the bar the night before. The girl who lived in the apartment before him died in it. He only found out after he’d already moved in and weird things began happening. Nothing scary. Just small things like the TV being on when he knew he turned it off. Cups being rearranged in the cabinets. His downstairs neighbor asking him to keep the music down in the afternoon when he knew for a fact he hadn’t been home all day. It was weeks before he actually saw her and he was sure he’d, as Woo so eloquently put it, “lost it”.

The ghost...the girl...she was nothing like the ones he’d seen in horror movies or heard about in scary stories growing up. In most ways she was like any other girl. She wasn’t transparent, she definitely didn’t go “Boo”, and she had no intentions of freaking him out. At least not any more than she already had.

She just couldn’t pass on and she didn’t know why. So they struck up a deal. If she helped around the house and kept the music down he wouldn’t try to get rid of her. A part of him enjoyed the company of his new ghostly friend. She was gentler than a lot of the guys he hung with. Easier to open up around too. A perk he’d only come to appreciate in this moment was that she couldn’t run her mouth either. 

Feeling a tinge of guilt wash over him, Hongjoong shoots the other two an icy glare that tells them to give Jongho a break…or else. “Look, we’re sorry. Really” Hongjoong apologizes, “You’re just not the type of person to believe in these things. I mean, come on. A ghost?”

“Ooh, ghosts? I see Halloween came early” Yunho sings, strolling into the break room. Sensing the tension, Yunho goes straight to the refridgerator to grab his lunch. He tosses it into the microwave, the beeping of the few buttons he hits the only sound filling the room. He turns to the others, arms folded across his chest. “Is anyone gonna tell me what’s going on or…”

All eyes are on Jongho who refuses to meet anyone’s gaze. “I’m not saying it again” he says defiantly, heading for the door. “Jongho’s house is haunted” San spills out, his mouth now full of food. “By a yoga instructor” Woo tags onto the end. Jongho glances over his shoulder, his hand wrapped around the doorknob. “She isn’t a yoga instructor!” Anger boils up inside of him again as he prepares for yet another person to laugh at him. It never happens, instead Yunho seems almost happy.

“Wait, you guys are serious aren’t you?” Yunho asks, secretly praying that this isn’t some sort of joke. Jongho sighs, relieved that at least someone isn’t set on being an asshole today. “They aren’t lying. My apartment’s haunted…or whatever.” Yunho’s eyes light up in a way that makes Jongho instantly uncomfortable. He’s never looked at him this way before and he never wants him to again.

Before Jongho can resist, Yunho’s long arms are wrapped around him as he squeals with joy. “This is amazing. Can I come over later?”

“What? No!”

“Come on, don’t be grumpy my little teddy bear” Yunho pouts, “I swear on my life you won’t regret it.”

Jongho drops his head and closes his eyes. Maybe if he wishes really hard Yunho will go away. “I won’t regret it because you aren’t coming over” he says through gritted teeth.

Never one to be defeated, Yunho decides to pull out the big guns. “Let me come over or I’ll hug you every time I see you for the next month!” Threatening any of the other guys was easy. Jongho could do it in his sleep. But Yunho? That’s a different beast entirely. It doesn’t matter what Jongho says or does. If Yunho wants a hug he’s coming in for one. He’s relentless and Jongho knows it. There is no other option. 

“Shit…fine” Jongho relents, “You can come over but don’t make it a thing.” “Yes! Yes! Yes!” Yunho cheers, “You won’t regret this. I swear to you.” Jongho moves to break free of Yunho’s loving embrace when the break room door opens once more.

Yeosang stands in the doorway taking in the current scene being played out before him. He clears his throat, forcing a smile. “Uh, hmm. Right. Should I come back later? You seem…” His gaze trails up and down Jongho’s body, “Busy.”

“Aah! I hate it here!” Jongho whines, storming out of the break room. Hongjoong jumps to his feet, peeking his head out after him. “We love you too!” 

“Mmm, this smells wonderful” you hum, eyes closed as you inhale the aroma rising from the pots on the stove. It takes some time to pinpoint each scent. Roasted chilies, garlic, wine, braised pork. Sometimes if you picture it in your mind, remembering the times you’ve had it before, you can almost taste it again. How long has it been since you really tasted something? You push the thought to the back of your mind. It’s best not to think that way.

“No drooling in the food please” Jongho teases, sliding in beside you to switch a burner off. You poke him in the side, making him jump a bit. “I’ll have you know I can’t drool!”

“I’ve seen you sleeping. You can drool. It’s like ectoplasm or something.”

"Ectoplasam? You're banned from watching Ghostbusters ever again" you say, easing yourself up onto the counter.

Laying back on the smooth marble, you stare up at the new overhead light Jongho had installed after he moved in. It’s black at the center with long, illuminated arms outstretched like sunbeams. How long has it been since you saw the sun? Not through a window or on the TV but outside. Outside? What a silly thought. There is no outside. At least not for you. Not anymore. 

Shifting your focus to something less depressing, you decide to do one of your favorite things. Watch Jongho cook. Watching him do anything is entertainment enough for you if you’re being honest. Especially tonight when his clothes perfectly accentuate the shape of his body. You dare not lay eyes on him in the shower but you imagine it’d be quite the sight to see.

“Picturing me naked again…” Jongho accuses, turning around to playfully pinch your belly. Rather, pinch where it would be. His hand goes straight through you, it can’t be helped, but it tickles for both of you. “Get your head out of the gutter and your hand out of my small intestine Choi Jongho” you giggle, propping yourself up on your elbows. “Sorry” he apologizes, turning back to the stove, “Pretty sure it was your appendix though.” 

Classic Jongho. Always intent on getting the last word. You’ve never met someone who spoke so little but had so much to say all at the same time. In the years since this apartment became your permanent residence a few other people have come and gone. The girl with the dog that never stopped barking and the guy whose girlfriend smelled like raw onions.

Unfortunately, death hadn’t dulled your sense of hearing or smell so when it all became too unbearable you chased them off. Sent a few dishes flying off the shelves, made the microwave explode, put all of the furniture on the ceiling. They never made it a month before running away.

This one, though, you never imagined chasing off. He has the cutest pet turtle that doesn’t bark at all. No stinky girlfriend to speak of and his cologne certainly adds a sweet smell to the apartment. And he can see you. More than that, he wants to. 

As Jongho grabs some plates from the cabinet you notice that he’s only grabbed two. Typically he’d throw one in for you too even though you technically can’t eat it. Why would he want his best friend to see that he sets a place for his pet ghost? The instant the answer to that question dawns on you, a knock at the door sends you into a frenzy. This is it. It’s happening.

You zoom into the hallway where a full body mirror hangs on the outside of a closet door. Twirling around you smooth over your clothing, inspect the subtle gloss on your lips. “How do I look?” you ask, reentering the living room with your fingers toiling away at your hair. Jongho watches you for a moment. You’re so clueless sometimes that it’s adorable.

“You look how you always look.”

“Which is…”

“Pretty. Perfect. Beautiful. Life changing” he rambles, showering you with the compliments you were fishing for. Not that he doesn’t mean them.

You hop on the couch, sitting on your knees like an overexcited puppy. “Thank you! You can open it now!” Knowing he has to move quickly before he changes his mind, Jongho braces himself for the worst and opens the door. 

“Okay, where is she?” Yunho asks, pushing his way through the partially open door. Scurrying over from the couch, you follow behind the tall man. Jongho rarely has anyone over and when he does naturally it’s to see him. It’s difficult to contain your excitement about having a visitor of your own.

“It’s nice to see you too” Jongho says, dripping sarcasm. “Ghostly beauty, reveal yourself!” Yunho calls out to the empty space around him. “He’s funny” you laugh, inspecting his rather impressive dinner attire, “I like him.” Jongho rakes his fingers through his hair, sure he’s lost a few strands from stress. “Yeah, that makes one of us.” 

“You’re making this weird” a deep voice sounds from behind you. The voice is different from others you’ve heard in recent memory. Up until now every voice has seemed to come from a distance. The ones you’ve grown familiar with, like Jongho’s or the ones on your favorite shows, feel closer than others. None of them come close to this one. The clarity is entracing and, without a thought, you’re hunting for the source of the sound.

Trailing in behind Yunho you see another tall man, every visible inch of his skin covered in artfully executed tattoos. In a knit sweater and a pair of jeans, his clothing is far less formal than Yunho’s. He wears black circle rimmed glasses that compliment the sharpness of his nose. As you approach, you see your reflection in them and are almost embarrassed by how hypnotized you appear. Thank god he can’t see you. 

“Who is this?” you ask Jongho, without glancing back. A puzzled Jongho locks the door, unsure what to make of your stranger than usual behavior. “That’s Yunho, I told you…”

“No,” you interrupt, “This one. Who’s this one?”

Your question does something to the nameless man standing before you. It’s as if the world has come crashing down around him. He’s flooded with every emotion he’s ever known of, some he didn’t know he could feel. “Mingi” he speaks to you and only you. Mingi closes the space between you, stars shining in his eyes. He can see you.

Yunho gasps, hands thrown over his mouth, "Holy shit, she can see him too..."

#ateez au #ateez x female reader #ateez fluff #ateez angst #jongho x reader #song mingi x reader #jongho x you #song mingi x you #chubby reader #plus size reader #ateez x you #ateez x reader

[rinwritesfics]

Rather Be Hurt Than Be Okay

Plot: Echo gives you an item and you blurt out your feelings for him.

Warnings: some swearing

Word Count: 1063

Author’s Note: This is for @manofworm, for @cloneficgiftexchange’s April 2024 Bad Batch exchange! Thank you for hosting, @ghostofskywalker! I had fun exploring what this prompt could be, and I really hope you like it!

Prompt: “I’d rather be hurt and be with you than be okay without you” || “This isn’t just a(n) [object], it’s a promise”: GN!Reader

Having travelled with the boys for a while, you were pretty familiar with each one’s particular mannerisms. Hunter got quiet when in thought, whereas Tech continued to talk out a problem most of the time. Wrecker was a gentle man who would do everything he could until he decided to step in and protect his family with his strength. Omega was curious, intuitive, and determined, always searching for ways to help. From what you remember about Crosshair, he was silent and observant like a cat until he pounced.

And then, there was Echo.

Echo… you could talk about him for hours. His determination to find justice. His desire to do the right thing. How he wanted to pay forward the kindness shown to him.

You had seen him trying to hide his phantom pains and his nightmares, and it took him a long time to warm up to letting you help. The strength inside him also doubled as his stubbornness, but you were determined. And he had finally let you in.

That was where the problem began.

You fell for him – hard.

His tendency to be vulnerable with you, to be near you and gently nudge you in the direction you needed if you got stuck, or to balance you out when something was bothering you.

But you weren’t going to tell him that. You felt he didn’t need that added stress, so you began to pull back a bit. And he either didn’t notice, or he let you do your thing. You weren’t certain which one was better in this case.

Now, something else going on. It bothered you.

The Marauder had just landed on Ord Mantell and were accepting a new mission.

But, you had noticed that despite your little bit of space between you and Echo, Echo had been acting a bit… off all day. It wasn’t like he was avoiding you, he was just not spending as much time talking or working around you as he usually did, withholding a bit of himself. It was very unusual. So obviously, something was on his mind.

You vowed to find out what it was.

After the briefing, you planned to talk to him, but he found you first and pulled you aside to a back corner of Cid’s bar. You felt both a thrill at being alone with him in the darker area, and nervousness at what he was up to. You both sat down, and you silently admire his facial features in the dim blue light from the bar.

“Echo, what’s going on?” you asked softly, glancing around to see if anyone else was watching you. No one was.

“I have something for you,” he said quietly, and curiosity bloomed in your chest. Echo held out a small cylindrical item that would fit in the palm of your hand, but you didn’t take it.

“This is a commlink, Echo,” you say quietly, raising an eyebrow.

“This isn’t just a commlink, it’s a promise. I’ll see you again.” Echo tried to hand you the device again, but you moved away slightly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“We’re heading out shortly.”

A scoff leaves your mouth. “And I’m supposed to be coming with you.”

He shook his head. “Not this time.”

Your heart skipped a beat and your stomach soured, causing your brow to furrow and your lips to purse. You moved to stand up. “You’re leaving me behind?! What the hell is wrong with you?!”

Echo’s hand set the commlink on the table, then touched your forearm. You stopped just enough to listen. “You will only end up getting hurt if you come with us.”

“That’s bullshit! I’d rather be hurt and be with you than be okay without you! Don’t you understand that by now?!” you yelled, then clapped a hand over your mouth.

“What do you mean by that?” he whispered, his eyes widening in surprise, but his grip tightening a bit.

“I….” you trailed off, then sighed and looked away, sitting down again. He let go of your arm, then moved his hand to your face. His forefinger curled under your chin and he placed his thumb under your lip, gently guiding your face to look at him again. Your heart began to race, warmth flooding your cheeks at his touch. His gloves were a bit rough, but his touch was so gentle.

“Please tell me,” he said, his voice quiet. His eyes scanned your face, eyebrows upturning. Was it concern? Was it hope?

“What is it you hope to hear?” you whispered.

“What is it you want to say?” he whispered back.

Your breath hitched, gaze flickering to his lips. A small smile grew as you watched and your gaze went back to his eyes. His touch on your chin didn’t falter and relief flooded your body.

“You want this as much as I do,” you say softly, a smile growing on your lips, too.

“I do. And it would kill me if you got hurt coming along with us.”

“And it would kill me to not be with you. I want to be with you, Echo. I didn’t stay behind when the squad went AWOL by leaving Kamino, I will not stay behind now.”

His lips parted, and then he smiled again. “I want to be with you, too.”

“Then don’t ask me to leave you.”

Your fingers slipped into the gaps between his armor pieces and you pulled him closer. His eyes widened slightly, then relaxed to match the sly look in his smile. Your left hand gently touched his prosthetic arm, then you slid your fingers down to his scomplink. His breath hitched as you gently brought his arm around the middle of your back.

“I’m staying, Echo. For better or worse.”

He chuckled. “I’ve heard that phrase before.”

You grin. “It’s a little early to get to that level, but I wouldn’t mind it with you.”

He breathed in sharply. “Really?”

“Really.”

He grinned back and leaned forward a little. “I’ve been wanting to kiss you for a while, now. May I?”

You leaned in, too. “I would love that.”

As your lips met and your eyes closed, you hear a whoop from across the room. Whomever it was could wait. You had been waiting on this for too long. And it seemed like Echo agreed as his lips moved softly over yours.

Taglist (open!): @trixie2023

#tbb echo #tbb echo x reader #TBBE24 #the bad batch echo #rin writes things

[stusbunker]

Spotless: En Cédant

Chapter Twenty Two

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean/Bela

Other characters: Lee, Bobby, Sam, Annie, Kevin (mentioned)

Word Count: 2541

Warnings, etc: Mutual pining, Aromantic Bela, more hints at bisexual Dean, unbeta'd

A/N: Dean's magazine interview is released and he asks a question he regrets.

Series Masterlist

Dean walked into the auditorium they’d been leasing for rehearsals with a gas station coffee and what John would have called a ‘piss-poor’ attitude. Sam had stayed over at Madison’s and gotten his own way to their last pre-tour play through. It was one of those rare mornings where their place felt too big, and Dean couldn’t kick the feeling that something was missing in his daily life. But it was too early for a pity party and too late to turn around and play hookey.

Not that he’d even dare that on this tour, not this close to showtime.

The energy in the hall did little to ease Dean’s annoyance, filled with quiet conspiring. Each person he nodded at seemed to be hiding a smirk or trying not to laugh out loud. Once he got to Lee, he’d had enough.

“Okay, what the fuck is with everybody today?”

Lee shook his head. “You don’t know, you poor bastard. Have you seen Trouble yet?”

“No— whyyyy?” Dean scanned the room littered with roadies and band members, lounging over the stage and the first rows of seats. 

“Look, man, it’s easier to show you than tell you.” Lee reached into his back pocket and pulled out a rolled up magazine, which was not what he was expecting. His sources of embarrassment primarily spread online these days.

But then he looked down and saw his own smug face staring back at him.

“Holy shit,” Dean said in a whisper.

“She’s got like a whole box of these, everybody’s read it or is currently reading it. It’s almost like you’re famous or inspirational or some shit.”

“Some shit is more like it,” Dean muttered and flipped to the page number next to the tagline, ‘Phantom Traveler’s frontman Rides the Road to Redemption’.

“Hey! Get your own!” Lee snatched the magazine out of his hand before he could get past the shot of him in Baby’s driver’s seat, eyebrows furrowed in the side view mirror.

“You sonuvabitch,” Dean threatened and went to steal it back when Bobby appeared with his ruffled mustache of disapproval.

“Okay, Fabio, go find Trouble, she’s got a whole case of those you’re supposed to sign before we get started.”

Dean wiped his face with his palm and braced himself for a long ass day. “Okay, any idea where she is?”

“First dressing room,” Bobby replied. “Don’t take too long, we want to run through some old stuff with Kevin so Charlie can plan out some lightwork with it, then we need to talk setlists for this weekend.”

“Yeah, of course, uh, I’ll be right back,” Dean said, turning to head to the pit. He turned and added over his shoulder. “At least I hope so.”

It was worse than Dean thought, but somehow also better than he’d expected from Meg.

Sam sat backwards on an old makeup stool as he read the article out loud, “‘even his timeless good looks couldn’t save him from the storm of controversy he unleashed after punching out photographer, Jared Bender, alienating his keyboardist and lifelong friend, Cas Novak to the point of leaving the band, and forcing his manager and mentor, Bobby Singer, to cancel their last North American tour with two months left.’”

Sam made a visible ‘yikes’ face and continued on as you listened, moving stacks of magazines around into manageable piles along the counter. 

“‘The man sitting across from me was neither the cocky dipshit I interviewed six years ago, nor was he the unstable egomaniac who caused those around him to walk on eggshells during their last tour. He was oddly zen, blunt as ever, and refreshingly humble.’---- Ha! Christ, did you pay her off?!” 

Dean decided he’d heard enough and cleared his throat. You froze and turned, but Sam just grinned wolfishly at him through the old spotted mirror, completely unsorry about being caught.

“There you are! Hot off the presses, man.” Sam flipped the copy he was reading towards Dean, which he caught against his chest with his free hand.

“Yeah, thanks,” Dean grunted, splashing some of his coffee as he stopped the magazine from falling to the floor. “How bad is it?”

You chuckled. “It’s not— well, for starters, it’s the freakin’ cover! I was not— she was being purposely vague about the whole thing, even which issue it was going to be— I am kind of in shock still.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Dean stared at the cover, unsure if he dared read it with an audience. After the silence got too heavy, he buried his own sick curiosity and looked at you to keep busy. “So, Bobby said you’ve got work for me?”

Dean smiled too late, catching you entirely deflate from his terrible segue.

“Uh— yeah, it’s only 100 copies. We’re sending them out to bundle with tickets for radio stations in every city.”

Dean walked across the small room, set down his coffee beside Sam’s rumpled magazine, and picked up one of the metallic Sharpies you had left out. “You sure they want just me signing these?”

“Dude— none of us are in any of the pictures. And besides just verifying some details, she didn’t interview any of us.”

Dean spun on his heel. “She asked you if I was lying about stuff?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “It wasn’t like that— it was more of her trying to catch you in consistencies.”

Dean raised his eyebrows at how that was exactly what he had said.

Sam huffed and started rambling. “I mean it was about the tone of the album and the cohesiveness. It wasn’t bad, God, okay?!”

“You’re not really reassuring me here, Sammy.”

“Look, I’m gonna go set up.” Sam stood up. “But, we’ll talk it out once you’ve read it, okay? Just get these signed, so we can figure out everything upstairs. Maybe then Bobby doesn’t have an aneurysm.”

“We can only hope,” you tucked on, which took the words out of Dean’s mouth.

Dean nodded, sighed, and popped off the cap of the marker. “Alright, let’s do this.”

Sitting around haphazardly sprawled across the theater seats, the band and immediate support personnel plotted the first stretch of the tour. Dates were set, venues, everything important, but the minutia had to be finalized so everyone knew where to be and when.

“We’re doing in studio stops with stations here and Vegas. But we are doing phone in interviews with San Diego, Phoenix and Albuquerque. We’ll talk more, but I think we’ve got stuff lined up once we hit Texas,” you rattled off to the group, pen in hand, laptop on your lap and phone in hand.

Bobby had his day planner open on his lap and Annie added things into her phone as you went. Dean kept his calendar app open, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary yet. Once the tour got underway, things got easier with the practiced dance, but until then he was jittery and brooding.

He hated the build up, but knew it’d be over soon.

“Dean— we gotta talk later, figure out when Bela will need passes. That goes for everyone, please let me know who you’re bringing each night so I can submit the names to each venue.”

“How is that your job on top of everything else?” Bobby asked.

“You want to do it?” You countered, coyly.

Everyone laughed. Lee threw a balled up receipt at the back of Dean’s head, but he just flipped him off.

“Need to get you an assistant,” Bobby muttered, but Dean didn’t think it was a bad idea. 

The meeting continued, plans for press stops and casual drop ins for the first leg were cemented with your approval. The band’s image meant everything to you, not just because it was your job, Dean knew it was a deep seated loyalty and faith in them, both as individuals and as a unit, a family. You worked harder for them than any mere publicist would. 

And that genuineness came through to the fans. 

Then that respect and admiration was reciprocated. Sure, there were ones who were closer to obsessed than others, but even Becky, the fanclub president, had cooled down over the years. Things might get awkward amongst the masses, but it wasn’t dangerous. And it had been awhile since anybody had asked for a lock of his hair during an autograph session. 

He didn’t miss that.

Dean switched apps and snapped some quick shots of the group from where he sat, dazed and tired from the meeting, but still together and looking good. He typed a quick caption to the post: ‘Can’t wait to see y’all again soon, we’re back baby.’ He even remembered to tag the band’s account before posting. But he knew you’d go through and add hashtags and pin people’s accounts to their faces in each shot, eventually.

For now, he was just grateful that he was still doing what he loved with his people.

Not much later, Bobby called it and everybody agreed to meet at Elizabeth’s. After securing all the equipment and hugging Charlie goodbye, Dean helped you haul the boxes of magazines to Bobby’s truck to be mailed out later.

“You want to ride with us? Got that scheduling stuff to hammer out anyway,” Dean cleared his throat and nodded towards Baby on the far edge of the parking ramp.

“Uh, Sam left with Kevin, but yeah,” you said, looking over to Bobby and Annie. “See you guys there?”

“Sounds good,” Annie said.

“Drive safe,” Bobby warned and held the door open for his wife.

Dean felt weird with his empty hands and you bent over with your bag and your laptop case, but you seemed to manage. “How are you feeling about things? How long we got before shit explodes with that article?”

You hummed in estimation, “about nine hours? East Coast will get to it first so it’s gonna be another early day.” 

“Brutal.”

“It will keep me busy, but it will be a good busy. I’m sure of it,” you promised.

Dean huffed. “If you say so.”

He unlocked the passenger side door and held it open for you, the familiar creak in the hinge the only sound in the cement tomb of the parking garage. But it didn’t feel creepy, it felt nice to be alone and out at night. With you.

He let you drag your stuff into the footwell and made sure not to get your sweater caught in the door as he closed it. He rounded the front bumper and got into his spot. “Alrighty, let’s go get stuck in traffic for an hour.”

You smiled at him, without looking up from swiping through your phone.

“You posted?!” you shrieked in surprise not five minutes later.

“With my own two thumbs and everything,” Dean teased back.

“They are loving this.--- Dean, it’s already got like over a thousand comments.”

Hey, he could do the internet charm, when he wanted to.

“What are they sayin’? They pumped to see us live?” 

“Definitely! And then the usual: speculation on Lee and Pam, people begging you to father their children—” you laugh fondly, like at a child showing off a well known skill. “Kevin is starting to get a sort of following, and the younger crowd brings more enthusiasm. Plus, people are already speculating how long during each set before Sam loses his shirt.”

Dean cackled. “Sweaty bastard, even with all the box fans.”

He pulled them onto the freeway and wedged in where he could amongst the chaos, careful to leave breathing room for his girl.

“When you’re all done with that, we can talk Bela at the shows. I’m guessing you meant you want her backstage and easily seen from the audience and all that?”

“Pretty much, but also what works around what she’s doing. She can’t exactly tour with you guys, but we gotta make it look like she’s doing her damndest to.”

You spent a few minutes going through your notifications while Dean turned up the radio a bit to keep him occupied through the stop and go traffic. Must be a game somewhere, he thought passingly.

“So, uh—- how much longer do you think we gotta do this act? Seems like I’m looking pretty good these days in the eyes of the public. And if you’re sure Meg’s article will be good press—”

You put down your phone and turned on the bench seat to lean your arm along the back of it, putting Dean entirely in your focus. He swallowed and looked back at you out of the corner of his eye.

“Where’s this coming from? I thought it was working out good with Bela?” You were trying for neutral, he could feel it. But you were upset. Or alarmed at least.

“It is— just not really sustainable for the long run. Eventually she’s gonna find somebody she actually wants to date and I’m gonna be gone for like the next year.”

You tilted your head to the side. “Bela’s aromantic, Dean. She isn’t interested in relationships at all.”

“Wait— what? That’s a thing? Chicks do that?”

You glared at him. Shit.

He licked his lips and wiped his palm on the thigh of his jeans. “Okay, but people probably know that, right?”

“Yeah, but people have a way of thinking that eventually she’s gonna meet the right person and ‘settle down’.”

Dean groaned. “Are we playing up a shitty stereotype? Am I being a bad ally?”

You rolled your eyes. “Dean, shut up. You didn’t know, which I find odd, but I’ll talk to Bela about that.---- And we’re not getting graded on your allyship, because frankly that is an entirely different conversation.”

Dean closed his eyes against the accusation but got back into driver mode quick enough to remain safe. He sighed.

“Anyway, I was just curious if there is a timeline or an escape clause or something when the label won’t cut off my nuts for being officially single again.”

You turned back to face the dashboard and picked your phone back up. “I cannot believe you can’t keep it in your pants for one tour, Dean. Groupies and fucking syphilis boosters cannot be that fun.”

Dean swerved, but righted the car. 

“HEY! Nobody said anything about wanting to get my dick wet! I was just asking a question. You don’t gotta be shitty about it.”

Dean swallowed back his retort about not needing easy hook ups because Bela was more than on board for helping fill that particular outlet, but he had already dug himself into a hole tonight.

He inhaled and worked on calming himself down. He realized he was more hurt than anything, that that’s where your mind went for his reasoning. 

That was how you saw him.

He wasn’t a dog, not anymore at least. And if he had been for the few years after Jo’s death, it was something he had to get himself through. He should not feel ashamed for enjoying life. 

But apparently somewhere along the line you’d grown a superiority complex.

Your opinion shouldn’t matter. He only had to answer to himself at the end of the day. But shouldn’t didn’t equal doesn’t.

Which made him feel even more pathetic.

Tagging:

@deans-spinster-witch

@mrswhozeewhatsis

@cosicas-cuquis

@fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like

@suckitands33

@ladysparkles78

@deans-baby-momma

@stoneyggirl2

@sassy-pelican

@leigh70

@globetrotter28

@winharry

@lastactiontricia

@rockhoochie

@brightlilith

@coldhearted93

@djs8891

Chapter 23: Furia

#spotless series #dean winchester x reader #dean/reader #dean/bela #slow burn #rockstar au #fake dating #dean x reader #dean angst #dean fluff

[ventisettestars]

DannyMay Day 6+7: Eclipse And Weapon [ao3]

This is a continuation of Day1: Fantasy AU. [link] Next part: [link]

Summary: Sam and Tucker meet the Fae Lord Phantom with a bonus flashback to how he earned the title.

Please note things get violent near the end after Danny messes with the pendant.

WC: 2,369

“Lord Phantom” Fright Knight knelt to face his Lord. “I have secured the humans as you’ve requested. Might I inquire as to why you personally collected them?” 

Phantom rubbed between his eyes as Cujo whined for his attention next to the throne. “They are my attendants from while I’m-. Companions of mine since early childhood.” 

“I see.” 

“So.” Phantom’s gaze fell on his knight, the ring of light in the black projecting his source of power. “Do I need for you to attend to them before I make my way, or will their accommodations be adequate to please me?” 

Fright Knight stiffened. “My Lord. May I be dismissed to address and correct my misunderstandings of your relations to the humans.” 

So they got the standard 'throw the humans in a room’ treatment. “I’ll handle it myself. I’m sure they are frightened enough without you returning to move them to a new location.” He rose from his throne, waving Cujo to join with the other hounds. “Lead me to them.” 

So Fright Knight did. 

Sure enough they were in one of the more nefarious rooms in his domain. The room was pretty basic by fae standards. Lots of wooded and delicately carved furniture, cozy temperature regulated between an opened window and a fireplace that always burned with just the right amount of warmth to fend off the cold of his corner of the realm. 

What made this room so dangerous to humans was the moss that carpeted the floor. It released spores to make creatures other than fae more docile after long exposure. 

Entering the room, Tucker was the only one in view. Phantom had barely a moment to process that, before Sam burst out from the other side of the door, attacking with her dagger. 

Phantom blocked it with his armor, staring at her with his dark eyes. “Stand Down.” The slim green ring was the only indicator of where he looked and it seemed to glow brighter with his command. 

Sam, losing the only advantage she saw at the moment, relaxed her grip and let the dagger fall to the floor. Phantom smirked, knowing it wasn’t the only dagger she kept on her person. 

He bent to pick up the dagger and handed it back to her. “Hang onto this. I’ve no need to disarm you. I invited you here as guests. Have you had anything to eat or drink?”

They both shook their heads, probably feeling a bit of both hunger and thirst now that he mentioned it. That was another side effect of the moss. 

“Good. Don’t do either.” Phantom turned in the threshold. “Now then. Follow me and don’t wander.”

He walked off, and was relieved when the two followed. He wondered if maybe Tucker noticed the properties of the moss, cause they both hurried quite a bit. 

Fright Knight followed behind the two humans as extra protection, irritated that his Lord let the humans see his back. 

Once at Phantom’s personal chambers, he turned. “Thank you for the escort. Now leave us.” 

Fright Knight bowed and took his post at the end of the hall. 

“This way.” Phantom opened the door to the first room, the area was filled with lush flora and I couldn’t be considered a room as the walls vanished with only three free standing doors. The sky overhead filled with stars and a black moon, surrounded by a ring that seemed to match Phantom’s eyes. 

“An eternal eclipse. A sign of the Lord of Night.” Sam mumbled, the sky and his eyes being the only proof she needed. “Is that why you tend to hunt only on the darkest nights?”

“Yep. I didn’t realize you’d actually read my parent’s scrolls.” Phantom looked up and winced as he realized his slip. He always enjoyed this inbetween space of his, but his two natures also tended to meld here. 

“Your par-?!” Tucker gasped as he watched a resigned Phantom shift into Danny. Only, one of his eyes remained Fae looking.

“Hey, surprise?” Danny had the gull to look sheepish with a tiny wave. 

They were all silent. Danny waited on his friends before he made the next move. 

His nerves started to get the better of him as the wait till they said or reacted stretched on. He looked up to the eclipse in his sky as just something to hold his attention, when Sam finally said something. 

“So. Let me get this straight. You, the skeptic prince of Amity, are not only Fae, but a freaking Fae Lord. The fucking Lord of Night, Leader of the Winter Wild Hunt, AND the Summer King Pariah’s Bane?” 

Danny nodded. Only to turn to Tucker as he started laughing. 

“How the heck have you found the time to pull all of that off??” 

“Oh, Time in the Realms is slippery…I’m a bit older than I look…Or, I’ve got like centuries of life experience in 16 years time…?” 

“How does that even?” Tucker looked like he was trying to do the math, when Danny shrugged. 

“Don’t think about it too hard. I stopped trying to figure it out ages ago. I could be in ruling for weeks, then once I return to my room, the night wouldn’t even have passed. Don’t get my started on the pure headache of figuring out seasons and times of power.” Danny leaned as though he were going to sit, but there was no chair behind him. 

Sam was about to call out when suddenly there was a chair. She raised a brow at him. 

“What? The courts are always playing around with their politics and times of power. It might look like it’s on a 3 month calendar, but here those three months could last only a week, or years.” 

“That's absolutely fascinating, but the chair, how did it?”

“I’m the Lord of this Realm.”

“Danny, that makes no sense.” 

Tilting his head a bit, he grinned. “Good.” Letting his fae nature slip to the forefront again, he spread his wings that sparkled in starlight, “If it made sense, then I’d be a shit Lord.” 

Phantom preened and let his wings fluff a bit before they resettled into looking like his cloak. He reveled in their dumb founded stares. The lore books always hyped up ‘the fae’s gossamer wings’, so they probably assumed his raven wings were just a feathered cloak. 

“So, you both have two options. First being, go through that door.” Phantom pointed a finger at the door that looked like it belonged to Amity. “It’ll return you home sometime in the night. It’s never consistent so can’t say when. Or-” Danny shifted to Phantom. “I could give you a tour of my realm.” 

They both looked a bit concerned. But, this was Danny. Right? 

“I’m down for staying. How about you Tuck?”

“I don’t want to miss out on all the fun. So the time thing, is it that you are time traveling or-”

“Probably time dilation? Something in Infinite Realms keeps everything out of sync. I’m still expecting one of these days I’ll come here, and lose months in the Human Realm. I’ve been blessed so far.” 

“So, when’d this all-?” Tucker motioned to all of Phantom. 

“Human time, about a year ago. This is my second winter in power. You remember that charm my parents got from Duke Masters? The pretty black one with the ring.” Phantom made sure to look both of them in the eyes, drawing attention to it with a tap. Just to make sure they could see his eyes matched the charm. 

Sam gasped. “But, it was useless, did-”

“It contained the previous Lord of Night. I broke it and unsealed the binding spell. Defeated him in single combat, then tada-” He grinned, exposing his fangs. “The Realm couldn’t have a Human Lord, so it fixed that problem my first night here. I’m pretty sure that my attendant at the time helped the progress. Come on. Let me start with introducing you to Cujo!” Phantom was done discussing his rise to power.  

They both knew Danny well enough to know that it wasn’t that simple.

-----one and half years ago

The pendant was pretty, and that was about the only thing it was good for. Duke Masters had sent it in place of taxes this month. Claiming it to be a ‘fae trinket’, his parents eagerly accepted it in place of taxes. Which really ticked Danny off. Duke Masters had more than enough coin to spare. Had it been a villager that painted a rock, he would’ve been less ticked off about it. 

But it was the richest of their people that pulled this bullshit. Danny was running his hand over it, attempting to see how the man had made the rock to produce the glow. It didn’t seem to be the work of wizardry. Least from what the court wizard observed. 

The fae might have been a thing in the past, but now, people going missing in the woods were just unfortunate victims to nature. Not whisked away to some magical realm. It was all just fairy tales. 

His nail caught in the glowing circle on the charm. There was a divot there. He picked at the spot with his nail at first, but then tried at it with a dagger-like letter opener. Finally, a small enough nick was formed, but rather than just looking scratched, shadows burst and the air grew thin. A figure emerged, everything about them deathly white from their features to clothes, to large feathered wings.

“Foolish Mortal. You’ve done me a service by freeing me, but as my sentence wasn’t fully served, you’ve committed a crime to the realm. For that, you must face your punishment. I shall even show you mercy and deliver your death quickly.” 

A sword materialized in the being’s - the fae’s hand. They went to strike, the bone white blade swinging down. 

Danny wasn’t going to just die just like that. So with the only weapon at his disposal, he blocked using the letter opener he’d been holding. 

The bone blade was deflected to Danny’s relief, but it has cut the tip from his own blade. In a panicked thought, at least the blade was sharper now. 

It did little to comfort him as the fae continued to strike. Danny focused more on dodging since he couldn’t afford his blade getting any smaller. Everything the bone blade connected with was cut as though it were butter. Least it wasn’t the poor letter opener’s fault. 

The blade nicked his arm and Danny had never felt such pain before. It was cold, but it burned. Distantly he remembered learning about sensory death to cells when they were damaged to the point of no longer being able to regenerate feeling. 

He couldn’t afford another hit, so Danny lunged with his little blade. He wasn’t sure where he was aiming, he just didn’t want to die. He didn’t-

The bone blade was through his chest, pain flared so bad he almost didn’t notice the blood pouring from the fae’s neck. Danny’s dagger had struck just right, that the fae lost their grip on the blade as they began to sink to the floor.

“How-?” Their voice was weak. “You’re but a mere child…”

“Looks-” Danny coughed. “Looks like you picked the wrong prince to try to punish.” 

The fae’s form began to turn to dust, their blade following along. 

With the blade gone, Danny’s wound started to bleed with more flow. Shit, he knew it was bad to remove a weapon like that. He tried to apply pressure, unable to call for help. Come to think of it, where were his guards? 

They should’ve-

The dust started to rise, though there was no wind. 

It seemed to whisper. “Youngling. Do you wish to die a mortal, or continue on…” 

Danny thought it’d be dumb to reply. He was probably just dilutional from blood loss. Of course he didn’t want to die. He wasn’t done yet.

Without replying, the hallucinated whisper responded. “Wise choice…” 

The swirling dust flew at him, and into the chest wound. The pain stopped. At least from the wound. 

Danny could feel the dust, spiraling through him. He couldn’t tell if his blood was boiling or freezing, he couldn’t even scream. Or maybe he was screaming? 

No one came rushing to his aid though. He collapsed and the last thing he was aware of, was chains, that seemed to emerge from where his once wound had been, began to wrap around his body. Moving almost like snakes to bind him. 

He vaguely was aware that they‘d be gone when he woke next. 

“Danny, there you are.” Danny peaked open an eye at the voice calling to him. Tucker was- 

“Dude, we’ve been looking all over for you. Sleeping at your desk is going to make your back suffer.” This time it was Sam. 

“Sorry, I-” Danny sat up. How did he get to his desk, and-? He looked to his letter opener, it wasn’t in two? And the Pendant. The glowing ring on it was gone. It was just a shiny black rock. 

“I guess I’ve been working too hard.” It was all a dream?

“Probably. You should head to an actual bed, or I’ll tell Jazz.”

Danny gestured in mock offense. “You wouldn’t dare bother the kind princess with something so petty.” 

“I would, and she’d take you off your duties for a week.” 

“Then there would be a back log…” Danny got up and grabbed the pendant. “In all seriousness, I might actually be working too hard. I didn’t even notice I’d fallen asleep.”

“Then get to bed sleepy head. Want an escort?”

“Nah, you both can head home. Thanks for waking me up. If Jazz had found me asleep there, it would’ve been bad.”

They both waved him off. 

Once in his room, Danny's reflection caught his eye. Right in the center of his chest there was a glowing scar. It was where the blade had gone through. It pulsed with each heartbeat. 

Danny had a feeling getting any sleep tonight was going to be impossible. 

-----

It took a week til he noticed the door appear that no one else could see. Then another few days till he gave into the temptations to enter it.

End notes:

The eclipse is Danny's eyes and the pendant so I couldn't figure out a good place to separate the two chapters cause Walker's Bone Blade was going to be for Weapon, so I just didn't x'DD

Hope you enjoy this cause I got more planned for the Fantasy AU (It'll probably get it's own fic after DannyMay with some edits.)

#Dannymay2023 #danny phantom #dp #Fantasy AU #my art #my fic #draws

[ladyveronikawrites]

DIVE (Days 1 & 2 of 30 days of Bad Omens) @signs-of-ill-portent

Noah Sebastian x Female Reader

||Sexy time in the pool, fingering, slight voyeurism

word count 1.1k

---------

Sitting on your sandy beach towel, you watch the Nicks and Jolly sprint into the dark ocean. Yes, sprint. Bad Omens have been on tour for six months straight. Last night they closed their tour by playing in their hometown. Folio insisted on staying one more day to watch the sunrise on the beach.

It’s breathtaking to watch the sun slowly swallow the twilight. You tug at the sleeves of your hoodie as the ocean breeze brushes over you. Never in a million years did you expect to see tough tattooed guys squeal with excitement when their feet touch the icy water. In the short time you have toured with the band as an amateur photographer, you’ve gotten to know the guys pretty well, almost too well.

A soft chuckle fractures your tranquility. “You gonna join them?” Noah yawns sitting next to you. The one thing you have learned from this tour and that Noah is definitely not a morning person. 

“Hell no, I’m terrified of the ocean.” You force a laugh. “You never know what might be lurking underneath.” 

You playfully shove Noah in the shoulder. At this point, Jolly and the Nicks are waist-deep in the water shoving each other into the waves. Noah starts to ramble about his extraordinary plans for the studio while at home that he has no idea the guys are running full force straight at him. You try to get his attention but it's no use. You jump up from your towel as the guys plow into Noah, soaking wet. Shouts, grumbles, and “Hey I just wanted to give you a hug” spew from the chaotic scene. Your side hurts from laughing so hard that your eyes begin to water. You can’t catch your breath as Noah just glares back at you. 

“You're next!” Folio yells. You try to run, but he pulls you into a bear hug. Jolly and Ruffilo stumble into us, causing us all to fall to the ground. We are all a blubbering mess of laughs, jests, and hiccups. When we all finally catch our breath, Noah just stands there rolling his eyes at us. You stick your tongue out at him. This only garners a huff, and Noah stalks away. 

Ruffilo pulls you up from the ground, and his hand lingers a little too long. You give Nick a small smile as the other Nick picks up your beach towel. You try to ask for it back, but he insists on carrying it for you. You don’t deserve their kindness, but you are eternally grateful for them. 

When we all make it back to the private beach house the sun is hot and bright in the sky. Your eyes widen when you see Noah already in the pool. Water drips from his slicked-back hair and the muscles of his defined arms and back glisten. 

“Close your mouth,” Ruffilo whispers into your ear. 

“Shut up!” You shove Nick, but you don’t move from your spot. He just rolls his eyes and walks away. 

“Dive on in.” Noah beckons from the low end. Bewildered you look down at your feet trying to process his request. You stare at your oversized band tee and soft shorts. 

Oh, what the hell, it’s just water right? You muster up the courage and make your way through the gate. Phantom feet carry you to the diving board. You can do this. You can do this! You repeat to yourself.

You take in an audible breath as a dazzling grin spreads across Noah’s face. 

Splash!

Instantly ice cold water envelops your body. When you crest the surface you splash water in Noah’s face.

“For fuck’s sake, Noah! It’s freezing!”

“How else was I supposed to get you in here?” he shrugs casually. “Come here, I’ll warm you up.”

Reluctantly, you make your way to him, and he wraps his arms around you. You press your back into his chest, breathing in the mix of chlorine and cologne. 

“You are shaking baby,” he whispers.

Heat rushes to your core, and you clench your thighs together. Noah chuckles darkly into your ear. You bite your tongue to stop the moan, trying to leave your lips. Suddenly, Noah’s hands lift the hem of your shirt searching for your bare skin. His hands explore your hips and tummy, finally making their way to your breasts. His large hands cup your breast pawing at the soft tissue. 

“Don’t make a sound,” Noah growls as he traces circles around your nipples. You nod quickly then he pinches both nipples. You groan through the pain that turns to pleasure. 

“That’s it,” Noah encourages.

One large hand remains on your chest as the other one snakes its way down your torso to the hem of your shorts. Your clit is already throbbing to his touch

“If you want me to stop, just say stop, ok?” 

“I understand.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” you whimper.

“What do you want?” 

“Touch me, Noah, please.” You beg.

“I can’t help myself when you beg doll,” Noah taps your thigh and you immediately spread them.

He leans down and bites your earlobe, and you yelp as he simultaneously plunges his finger between your sex. A low groan leaves your open mouth as you sink deeper into his toned chest. Noah swipes two fingers over your folds teasingly he plunges them deep inside you, then slowly withdrawals them.

“Noah,” you moan. “Please.”

All at once, Noah plunges two fingers inside you, thrusting in and out vigorously. Your legs are tense as you plant your feet firmly on the textured floor of the pool. 

“I’m so close,” you whimper. Before the last syllable leaves your lips Noah curves his fingers inside you and presses the heel of his palm into your clit. Pressure builds in your core as your neck rolls back against Noah’s chest. Your toes curl as Noah holds you tightly.

‘Noah,” you breathe out as your orgasm claims you. Your walls clench around his fingers as he finger fucks you through it. 

“God, I love it when you say my name,” Noah purrs. “You are perfect.” Noah removes himself from inside you and brings you into a strong embrace. 

“Pay up, boys” Jolly snickers from the patio. You look up to find the guys staring at you and Noah in the pool. You glare at Noah trying to come up with a snarky remark. 

“Sorry I corrupted you,” he chuckles. You shove him in the chest and storm over the pool edge splashing the other guys with water

“Hey hey, these are new boots,” Jolly gestures to his shoes. Before you can retort Noah pulls you into a big bear hug. 

“Shhh just let them go. Enjoy this moment.” Noah kisses your forehead. You will cherish this moment and the last day with the band.

#bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fic #bad omens #bad omens rpf #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian fanfic #noah sebastian x female reader #noah sebastian smut #noah x female reader #rpf #band rpf #nicholas ruffilo fanfic #nicholas ruffilo rpf #nicholas ruffilo fic #nicholas ruffilo smut #nick folio fanfiction #jolly karlsson fanfiction #ladyveronikawrites

[tieronecrush]

꒰ა ONLY ANGEL ໒꒱

javier peña x f!reader

chapter four: i can see you

series masterlist

rating: E (18+ only, MDNI)

summary: After his return to the US, Javier is trying to settle back into a normal life without the pressures of Colombia and the DEA, but he finds himself feeling isolated with no one to spend his nights with. Now a newly appointed criminology professor at Texas A&M, he is drawn to you, a post-grad student in one of his classes. You’re intelligent and witty, sweet and kind, and he can’t get you out of his mind. To cope with his growing loneliness and to rid himself of thoughts of you, he signs up for an “arrangement service” to connect him with somebody—a sugar baby—he can care for. After he is matched up with Angel, he finds himself developing feelings quicker than he ever expected, but what happens when he finds out Angel is really you?

series warnings: power imbalance (prof and student), sugar daddy/sugar baby relationship, discussion of money, criminal activity, judicial systems, graduate school, smut, daddy/papí kink, praise kink, degradation, self deprecation, discussion of self worth, multiple sexual or romantic partners, sex work, cursing, use of spanish, likely more warning so read at your own risk!

word count: 9.6k

a/n: this chapter is A LOTTTT of filth and as always thank you to bestie @northernbluess for beta-ing <333 love ya!

It’s the first class after Javi had you on your knees in front of him, the rest of the weekend was spent circling back to that image and having to take a cold shower or adjust himself in his jeans when he met up with some old friends from his days as a sheriff. The other thoughts that alternated from the image of you on your knees, soft and supple lips around his cock, was his view from between your legs, pleasure contorting your face and pulling you to a place where you fully let him give your body the treatment it deserves. There’s a phantom feeling of your come all over his face, the visual of you squirting for him bringing him to the edge when he spent Sunday night with his hand around his cock.

What would you feel like, writhing underneath him and making all those sweet little sounds he’s been replaying over and over in his head, while he gives you his cock over and over until you’re screaming?

You were now a craving that couldn’t be satiated; even if he had your mouth again, even if he got another taste of you, even if he got the chance to fuck you properly, it wouldn’t ever be enough. He’s always going to want one more orgasm, one more little moan of his name, one more time spilling into you and watching you take it wherever.

This is why he is buzzing as he walks through the halls to the lecture room, stalking up to the door and peeking through the small window. A glimpse of the back of your head sends a hot rush of his blood south, rolling out his shoulders and taking a breath to calm down. He languidly makes his way down the stairs at the end of the rows of seating, slowing his pace even more when he starts to reach the row you’re occupying. The sound of your voice rises above all the other students in his ears, and he bites back a smile as he’s reminded of the short phone call from the evening prior.

“Will you draw something else for me, bebita?”

“I can but that means I won’t be paying too much attention in class, Professor Peña.”

“Eh, doesn’t matter so much. Can just fill you in when I see you next. Call it private tutoring…” He grinned when he heard you laugh on the other side of the line, feeling like a schoolboy crushing hard. Javi was sitting on his couch, laying back and listening to you, trying to ask questions that gave long-winded answers so he could listen to your voice. “D’you have any other hobbies, bebita?”

“Hm, I mean, I guess so. Haven’t had a lot of time to do much these days cause of school. But I’ll sound like a grandma if I tell you about all those so let’s leave it at I like to doodle in your class.”

“No, no, I wanna hear about it all. What else is there besides drawing?”

“Well, um, I like embroidery. Like those pieces of fabric in the ring with designs on them? Those are fun to make when I’m watching TV or a film. Helps me focus, I guess. Actually, a lot of my hobbies are just things that help me focus so maybe I have a bit of an attention problem—”

“Don’t seem to have an issue paying attention to me, cariño.”

“Yeah, but you’re a distraction in and of yourself. I can barely pay attention to anything you’re saying during lecture cause I’m just looking at you, which is why I had to start doodling to have something to help me focus.”

“I see. Alright, so drawing and embroidery, anything else you like to do?”

“I guess anything I can make really. I find new mediums that look fun to do, buy all the supplies, and do it once, and then don’t touch it again.” You laughed again and Javi smiled and shook his head.

“Well, how about you make me something from all those different things? I want some Angel originals, hermosa. Show off how much I like art.”

“Javi, you’ve got no clue about anything to do with art.”

“Yeah, but I would know they’re yours. That would make them the best.”

It was silent for a moment, Javi awaited your answer to his loosely termed commission.

“Alright, deal.”

When he comes back into the lecture hall from his trailing thoughts, the student next to you is speaking, trying and failing to keep her voice at a low enough volume for Javier not to hear her.

“I heard that Professor Peña used to not be the most ethical when he was in the DEA…like slept with prostitutes to get information. Can’t even imagine the shit he must’ve caught there,” she says as if it’s the juiciest information she’s been told, likely wanting someone else besides you to overhear and question it.

You scoff at the girl sitting near you, rolling your eyes before your brow creases slightly in disapproval, “Y’know, you really shouldn’t be making assumptions about people based on campus rumors. And even if he did do that, he clearly did something right cause he stopped all of those criminals, and probably helped the women too. A lot of people talk to be able to get other opportunities.”

Anger flashes in your chest, burning red like heated iron to brand your heart with Javi’s likeness.

No, no feelings. Nothing more than what you have going on with him, no getting any more attached and making it messy.

But how can people just say shit like that? Without any care that the person they’re talking about is in the room, likely overhearing everything?

Javier doesn’t deserve the treatment. He’s so caring, and intelligent, and giving, and—No. No more.

You’re drifting back and forth between frustrations and telling yourself to calm down for the rest of class, and it’s clear on your face to Javier. He overheard everything, especially your quick defense of him. He knows the extra meaning behind your words, or at least hopes that there’s something else there — maybe a bit of his infatuation or school-age crush reciprocated. Eyes stay glancing over at you throughout his lecture and discussion, no comments or questions from you as you hurriedly take notes or scribble out something in the margins of your paper.

Fingers twitch at the sight of your tense shoulders, creased brow, and avoidant eyes. He so badly wants to walk right over, kiss you to release all of the pent-up frustration, and thank you for your defense. What he would give to be able to sit right next to you, huddle together in your own world like in the booth at the bar over the weekend.

He doesn’t get to catch you before you jump up at the end of class that day, quickly leaving after getting dirty looks from your seatmate. Javier is tempted to call the other student down to speak to him, but that feels a step too far, so he quells down the need to protect you and moves on for the day.

It isn’t until the second meeting of the week that he finally gets to see you again, his calls going to voicemail for the two nights following that day. He’s in the hallway, speaking with another professor within the department when you come down the corridor, a sweet autumnal plaid mini dress on with a cardigan over it. He licks his lips at the sight of your thighs covered with translucent black tights that tuck under the ankle of your Dr. Marten boots.

The other man’s voice slowly fades out as Javier focuses on you, attempting and failing to steal his gaze away as you walk past him. Eyes lock with a teasing knowing behind yours, the corners of your lips twitching up as you laugh to yourself that he looks like a dog to a bone.

“Hi, Professor Peña and it’s nice to see you again, Professor Quinn,” you slow down on the other side of the two men, Professor Quinn returning your smile and waving you over for a conversation.

“So lovely to see you again! Lizzy has been asking about you, she misses her favorite babysitter. How have you been? Are you in one of Professor Peña’s classes?” Professor Quinn looks between the two of you, friendly small talk coated with tension that only you and Javier can feel. The secret you share licks flames in your gut, stirring an excitement that you know so much more about him than other students, than his coworkers, than most people. That excitement has anxiety constricting in your chest briefly, afraid of what might happen if you allowed yourself to feel any claim over Javi.

Don’t get so attached. It’s work, a job, and there are other men on your schedule. No one else is like Javi, but canceling on anyone else to spend more time with him is too close to blurring the lines.

Javier looks at you, his heart in his throat as he is the recipient of one of those smiles from you, the one that had him crushing from the first sight of it and the same one he can’t get out of his head when you’re apart. Before Professor Quinn feels the need to repeat his question, Javier clears his throat and nods curtly.

“Yeah, my first graduate-level course. Got to get to the lecture in about five minutes actually.” Javier steps to leave but you hold up a hand.

“Oh, sorry, Professor Peña, but do you mind waiting one moment? I’d like to talk to you about the upcoming assignment on the way to the lecture hall.” Javi has a burning need to say he’ll talk to you after class, to cover any suspicions of his colleague from the prolonged eye contact between the two of you, but he can never deny those eyes of yours — and you seem to know that fact already.

He waits to the side while you quickly finish your conversation with Professor Quinn, who taught you during your undergraduate years and whose daughter you babysat for date nights during the school year and nannied over the summers you stayed in San Antonio.

There’s a flash of jealousy in Javier’s chest, no logic behind it, but he can’t help but feel like he wants to be the only one to know you as a student and outside of class. It’s silly, especially because this relationship is completely innocent, but he can’t stop the feeling from rushing over like a wave.

With a smile, one that he convinces himself isn’t quite like the ones you give him, you say goodbye to your former instructor and turn to Javier. Closing the gap to catch up with him, you start to walk side by side, appropriately inches apart despite the surge of wanting that trails down your left side and his right.

“So what did you want to talk to me about? The upcoming assignment? Is it the midterm research paper?” Javier maintains his professionalism, only glancing at you a few times while his mouth waters at the sight of exposed skin at your collarbone and the scent of your sweet perfume.

“Actually, I kind of just said that…” your voice goes to a lower volume, but still audible to him, “I was hoping that you’d maybe have some appointments left for your office hours? Maybe for a little tutoring session? I have my Spanish midterm coming up soon.”

Javi bites back his smirk, shaking his head to himself at your coded questions. Slowing to a stop in front of the door to the classroom, he turns to you, his boots clicking on the linoleum tiles as he rests a hand on his hip to consider.

“You can have the last one for today,” his voice drops to a low, hushed rasp as you lean in ever so slightly to hear him better, “Y’know, been missin’ you these last few days, bebita. Better have a good excuse.”

He punctuates the statement with a wink and a smirk, a teasing lilt obvious in his voice. A strong hand engulfs the door handle before you can reach for it, opening it and nodding for you to step in ahead of him.

“Ladies first,” he reminds, licking his lips as you look up at him with a quick, whispered reply.

“Think you know I’m not always a lady, Javier.”

He can’t stop watching you the whole class. He knows it’s an issue, that surely it’s obvious at points of the entire hour-and-a-half lecture. He knows that you notice his stare, quick flicks of eye contact, and subtle winks sent his way as the corners of your lips curl up in a smirk.

All he can think about is getting you alone — finally alone again — and teaching you a thing or two, like you requested, of course.

When he glances at you next, you’re staring down at your notebook, oblivious to his attention; the end of your pen is tapping against your bottom lip, your brows knitting together in what looks like confusion while reviewing your written notes. Javier watches as you slip the end of your pen between your lips, licking his own while he sees them pillow against the plastic utensil. The gloss swiped across them shines in the fluorescent lights, and with a flash of the image of your lips around him a couple of weekends ago, his trousers tighten and his mouth dries out.

You look up from your desk to meet his gaze, sharing a knowing smile before he stutters out the next point of his lecture. Clearing his throat, he shakes his head to himself and peels his eyes away from you, keeping them away for the rest of the session to attempt to calm down before he has to walk out in front of all the students with a bulge in his tight trousers.

At the end of class, he announces that he’ll be rescheduling his office hours to this afternoon, to start shortly after he releases everyone for the session. You quickly catch his eyes, the corner of his mouth ticking up with a subtle smirk and a quick wink while the rest of the students pack up their things. Some linger to ask quick questions, but you’re out the door before he can grab your attention again, his eager stance deflating. He wanted you to stay, to talk to you before sitting through all his other office hour appointments before he’s able to see you.

It’s about an hour of talking through fifteen-minute appointments with other students, both graduate and undergraduate, about their upcoming midterm assignments or exams for his courses. He can’t help but roll his eyes each time these students ask for extra credit or make-up notes for the classes that they have missed — most of these kids haven’t bothered to show up since syllabus week. The clock to the left of the door ticks away, and he sweeps up the conversation with the sophomore sitting across his desk once fifteen minutes exactly hit, ushering him out the door and promising another meeting before the midterm, but that he has another appointment to get to.

Taking a breath once the student is heading down the hallway, he combs his eyes around the area outside of his office, his attention being pulled to quick footsteps down the corridor. His eyes take in Dr. Martens, slightly beat up and well-worn, black sheer tights snaking up your legs to the mid-thigh hem of your skirt. Trailing up your dress to the exposed skin at your collarbone, Javi licks his lips.

“Sorry, I’m a little late, Professor Peña. Rushed over here when I realized what time it was sitting in the library,” you apologize, a soft smile on your face holding back the playful glint in your eyes.

“No problem, the last student ran a bit over his appointment time. Please, c’mon in.” Javier gestures for you to walk ahead of him into the open door of his office, watching you glance around the space as he shuts the door behind him. At the click of the handle into place, Javi strides over to you and grabs at your hips, leaning down to catch your lips in a heated and rushed kiss.

His larger frame looms over you, your hands finding his shoulders as your body relaxes into his grip. Javi guides you backward to his desk and around it, pressing you up against the edge of the wood.

“Fuck, bebita, jus’ couldn’t take my eyes off of you the whole fucking day. Look so sweet in your dress. Wanted to rip it off you and take you right there. Let everyone know whose girl you are,” he rasps against your lips, dragging his own along your jaw and working a love bite underneath your ear. A whimper pulls from your throat, leaning your head back for easier access as you squeeze your thighs together.

“Bet you’d like that, huh?” The smirk in his voice is evident, cockiness coating his words as he asks the rhetorical question. “Mi zorrita (My little slut) wants everyone to know who makes her feel so good, doesn’t she?”

“Y-Yes, I want everyone to know that it’s you…” you sigh out when Javier’s lips suck at your collarbone, hunched over you while his bulge presses into your thigh.

“You’d do that if I asked, like a good girl. But you’re all mine, bebita. Don’t want anyone else having you like I do.”

Guilt burns in your chest when he says that; you know he isn’t seeing anyone else, he’s said as much. You’ve dodged the question, avoiding the confrontation of telling him he’s one of a few because then you’d have to explain how he isn’t one of the few — how something with him is different, deeper, makes you long for him when he’s away.

And confessing all of that makes your stomach turn.

Instead of responding with words, your hand curls into his hair, the other resting against his chest and pulling him back up to your face. Kissing him hurriedly, you take the moment of distraction to push him back and down into his desk chair. You fold over him, keeping your lips attached to his and sighing when you feel a rumble of a moan from him when your hand at his chest drops down to palm him through his pants.

“Y’know, you asked for a Spanish lesson, bebita. D’you still want to learn something?” Javier asks, his head pulled back to rest against the seat back. You give him a ‘yes’, kneeling in front of his seat and scraping your nails against his strong thighs.

“Eres mío? Eres mi buena chica? Qué vas a hacer por mí? (Are you mine? Are you my good girl? What are you gonna do for me?)” Javier brushes his fingers against your cheek as he looks down at you. You take a beat to translate his questions in your head, a smirk growing on your face while you unbuckle his belt and undo his button and zipper on his trousers.

“Te voy a hacer sentir bien. (I’m going to make you feel good).” Javier grins down at you when you answer, sighing in relief when you pull his dick out from his boxers. His hand is still at your face, eyes darkening when you look at him.

“Una chica tan lista. My smart girl,” he exhales the last syllable when you swipe your tongue up the underside of his cock, his fingers running against your hair and moving to the back of your head. “Ahora chupa, mi zorrita. (Now suck, my little slut.) Show me what you can do.”

Following his instructions, you take Javi into your mouth, teasing the head of his cock with your tongue. Your hand wraps around the base of him, slowly stroking as you feed more of him into your mouth, all the way until he hits the back of your throat.

Exhaling out of your nose, you take a moment before starting to bob your head in time with your hand. The sounds coming from Javi sitting over you are delicious, the actions and the noises making your saliva drip from the corners of your lips and down his shaft, squelching with the motions of your hand. The hand of his at the back of your head starts to guide you, pushing you down an inch further to press the tip of him into your throat.

“Fuck, bebita, taking my cock so fucking well. Such a good girl for me, my dirty girl.” You hum in acknowledgment and squeeze your thighs together, readying yourself to deepthroat him when there’s a sharp knock on his office door. Javi’s hand holds your head still, looking down at you and whispering expletives as he glances around the room. The knob starts to turn when he calls out, “One sec!”

You pull off of him and open your mouth to whisper, but Javi shakes his head and holds his index finger up to his lips.

“Quiet, baby. There’s nowhere else for you to go, jus’ get under the desk and I’ll get rid of whoever it is quick, okay?”

You nod and crawl into the alcove of his desk, sitting on your knees with your back to the panel that hides you from the rest of the room. Javier wheels his desk chair closer to the desk, his legs on either side of you trapping you in. Eye-level with his still aching cock, your mouth waters, and breath hitches when the door finally opens and a voice comes booming in.

“Javier! Agent Peña! Big Man on Campus! How the heck are ya?” Dean Banks greets Javi with a laugh, striding into his office confidently. He rolls his eyes at the Dean, clearing his throat and scooting one leg closer to you under the desk.

“Dean Banks, nice to see you. I’m fine, how are you?” The polite conversation sparks an idea in your head to distract Javier, licking your lip and leaning in closer. You blow a warm breath over his cock, watching it twitch with the sensation and making Javier’s leg jolt.

“I’m doing great — we’ve gotten some glowing midterm reviews for your courses so I thought I would stop by to give you the good news! And to check in and see how you’re doing with the first full semester you’ve had here so far.” Dean Banks wanders around his office, staying in front of the desk as he pokes at all the books on the shelves lining the walls. “Haven’t gotten mixed up into, uh, those extraneous circumstances we discussed have you?”

Javier opens his mouth to answer at the same time you take him back between your lips, plunging your head down to take half of him in one quick go. The words catch in his throat and he quickly clears it to cover up the noise.

“No, absolutely not, sir. Been focused on, uh, teaching and setting all of my students up for—success. I was just finishing up with my office hours before you walked in.” Javier’s hand searches for you under the desk to pull you away, but you grip both of his hands in your position of power, holding them down as you continue to suck his dick hidden away from view.

“Hm, didn’t see any students walking out in the hallway or out of your office. Must have missed them.” Dean Banks turns his back to Javier and he glances down at his lap to look at you with a glare, mouthing ‘Knock it off’.

In an act of defiance, you take full advantage of the dynamic to make eye contact with him before taking his cock in its entirety down your throat. You gag around it and Javier coughs and groans out of a sudden reaction. The Dean turns around quickly, a puzzled look on his face.

“Y’alright there, Peña?”

Javier nods quickly, wiping the subtle sweat built up by nerves on his forehead and takes a deep breath while you continually take him deep in your throat and move your head up and down his length.

“Yeah, yeah. Just got a, uh, a….headache.”

The Dean nods and claps his hands together, walking toward the door, “Well I won’t keep you for any longer then, better get home and get some rest. Glad to hear there are no issues with your new course. Chat soon, Big Man.”

Javier rolls his eyes again at the Dean’s back when he exits and pulls the door closed behind him. It’s another beat before the coast is clear enough and Javier wheels his chair back, you walking on your knees to keep him in your mouth. His chest is breathing deep, looking up at him through your lashes. Unimpressed anger is painted across his face, a stern shake of his head before his voice comes out low and intimidating, making your thighs squeeze together to feel your panties cling to your wetness.

“Thought that was funny, bebita? Doing that while we had company? Pequeña mocosa. (Little brat.)” Javier ticks his tongue in his mouth and pulls you off of his cock, strings of spit connecting you to his still-aching cock. “Y’know, I should just bend you right over this desk and fuck you full of me, so you have to walk around all day with me dripping out of you. How’s that sound for payback, huh?”

Your mind is reeling with the thought of him fucking you against his desk, a whimper sounding in your throat and your thighs rubbing together for any bit of relief. A hand of yours moves to go between your legs, desperate to touch yourself, but Javier quickly grabs it, hooking your other hand with his larger one and bringing them both above your head.

“Oh, but mi zorrita would like that though, wouldn’t she? Not much of a punishment. Guess I’ll just have to fuck your mouth and come down your throat then.”

He stands from his chair and kicks it away behind him, tugging you closer and to sit taller by your hands above your head. The unoccupied hand grips his cock at the base, positioning himself in front of your face, tapping the head of his cock against your plush bottom lip.

“Open, angel. If you’re gonna be a brat, una mocosa, m’gonna fuck you like one.”

No more protests are had from you, opening your mouth as wide as possible and humming around Javi when he slips into your mouth. He sighs, tilting his head back toward the ceiling with a quiet moan. After a second of being still, halfway filling your mouth, he looks down at you again and starts to thrust his hips — slowly and shallow at first before his patience snaps and he moves quicker and deeper.

His cock hits the back of your throat each time, a bruising pace making your core throb with a burning desire, imagining the same feeling but inside of your pussy. You moan around him, choking when he gets the deepest you’ve had him ever, gagging harshly and swallowing around him to attempt to recover.

Javier is blinded with pleasure, soft begs of your name repeatedly falling from his lips before he gives you another hard fuck to your throat, one last gag before he’s pulling back and spilling ropes of his come onto your tongue. He pulls out, the last few painted across your lips as he looks down at you, breathless while his chest heaves and drops your hands from his grip.

“Fuck, bebita, such a little fucking slut taking me like that.”

In the midst of your own recovery, you stick your tongue out to show him before swallowing his spend, coughing quietly. Javier quickly grabs a few tissues and sits in his desk chair, gingerly wiping off the evidence of his punishment from your face. It’s silent between you two while you watch him focus on the task, reaching a hand up to wrap your fingers around his wrist.

“M’sorry if I was too rough, angel. Caught a bit too caught up there…” he avoids your eyes, tossing aside the Kleenex and tucking himself back into his trousers.

“I liked it,” you confess, standing up from your knees and straddling his lap in his chair as you sit down. “Liked it a lot, actually. I wanna be that for you, like an escape. Turn your brain off, 'cause we both know you overthink everything.”

You run your fingers through his hair and he chuckles, nodding before he kisses you sweetly.

“Thank you, bebita. Such a good girl for me. So sweet,” he muses, giving you another kiss, “Now how about we actually learn some Spanish for your exam?”

The next week is spent either on the phone with Javi in the evenings, when you’ve returned home from any other dates scheduled, or out with him, finding hole-in-the-wall bars and restaurants to avoid any eyes from around campus. Each time you see his name on your caller ID, or see his truck pull up outside of your apartment complex to pick you up, your heart starts with a quickened pulse, dopamine firing in your brain and giving you that stuck in lov—

No feelings. You remind yourself each time you get that serotonin increase, simply excusing it as you enjoy your time with him and the pleasure he eagerly gives you whenever you give to him.

It’s hard not to allow yourself to feel around him; Javi makes it so easy to indulge. Little moments like him calling the mechanic and getting the cost of your repairs brought down, driving you over to pick it up and paying for it himself to make sure they didn’t haggle anymore; ordering your favorite drink if he arrived at a bar or restaurant before you, or getting you something new that he thought you would enjoy; a hand on your back or waist or encompassing your own, guiding you without overpowering. Small gifts given; new books purchased when you’ve browsed bookstores he’s found for you, new favorite dresses or lingerie filling your closet that Javier claimed were as much gifts for himself as they were for you.

His care was ever present, not overwhelming until it came to the point that you thought about him and how much he was there, integrated into your life and habits and moments of joy.

Absolutely terrifying. But you couldn’t stop.

And he was feeling like he couldn’t stop either.

He didn’t know if he was overdoing it all with you, new to this sort of arrangement and its usual boundaries, but he hoped that the fact that you kept laughing and smiling, initiating kisses or more with him, that you were enjoying yourself as much as he was.

There were tiny snapshots where he caught himself thinking about, feeling more for you. When you sneak into his office on the days you have other classes, steal minutes with him before you have to go across campus or he has to go teach or to a department meeting. To-go cups of black coffee on your handful of morning dates at the weekend, a reminder that you made observations about him just as he was you. When you stood up for him, defended him when the other student was spreading rumors. Sure, they were true, and he’d told you as much, but to hear your subtle protectiveness was warming his long cold heart. 

He hadn’t felt like this before, and he never thought he would have the chance. Colombia had jaded him, hardened him to stone, but you were slowly chiseling away to reveal his moldable core, reshaping him into a person he knew before and at the same time, a person who was only becoming familiar these days.

Could this be love? If he didn’t know how you felt or where you stood? He never thought he was in love before, and this confirms those thoughts. Never has he felt like this, never has he been so clumsy and boyish in his relationship at times.

It’s a Thursday evening, and his classes for tomorrow are scheduled to have a break to give them more time to study for midterms. Fiddling with his phone in his hands, he wonders what you might be up to, going back and forth over whether or not to call.

Before he can think anymore, he’s finding your contact, brought straight to the top of the list when he changed the name to ‘Bebita’, and hits the green phone button.

The line rings a few times, cutting out with an answer and a rustle over the microphone before he hears your voice.

“Hi, Javi.” He can hear you sigh, sensing an edge of stress or impatience in your tone.

“Hey, bebita. You busy tonight? I wanna see you.”

“Oh, Javi, I don’t know if I can make tonight work. I’m using this weekend to study for all my midterms and to finish writing all my essays due next week and…I don’t really have time, m’really sorry,” you sound timid, exhausted and it makes him on edge, his brain immediately centering on how he can make you feel better.

“Do you need help with anything, cariño? Can I do anything?” He sits up on the couch, standing in the next moment to pace near his boots and his keys laid out on the counter, ready to pounce when you say the word.

“Oh, gosh, I don’t know…I feel like I can’t even think about making my dinner right now. I’m sorry.”

The coating of your voice and the sniffle through the phone are unmistakable; you’re on the verge of tears attempting to think of what he can do, the avalanche of stress you’re feeling. A crack sharpens across his heart, hands craving to hold you close and to fix it all for you.

“Oh, bebita, dulzura, you don’t have to apologize to me. I wanna spend time with you, help you. Don’t need to be going out or doing anything else than just sittin’ with you,” he nests his phone between his shoulder and ear while he slips his boots on, “Do you mind if I come by? If it stresses you out, you can tell me to leave but if I’m there maybe I can find something to help with.”

It’s quiet on the line while you consider, another sniffle nearly sending him out the door without your actual answer.

“Okay, yeah. You can come over. But I look like a mess and my apartment looks like a tornado went through it and I might cry in front of you.”

Javier chuckles and shakes his head while he grabs his phone with his hand to keep it against his ear. His free hand grabs for his keys, plucking his jacket off the coat rack and already walking out the door.

“Don’t worry about any of that, bebita. M’here to help you, I wanna take care of you,” he hears a hum of acknowledgment from you, “I’ll be there in like half an hour, alright? Gotta make a couple stops while I’m out and then I’ll be there for you, okay?”

“Okay…” you say quietly, “Thank you, Javi.”

“I’ll see you in a bit, angel.”

Exactly thirty minutes later, a knock raps on your front door, strong and short. Glancing up at the entrance, you see the lock turned and call out loud enough to be heard in the hallway.

“It’s open!”

The door unlatches and swings open, the rustle of bags hitting your ears before the sight of Javi hits your eyes. He juggles the thin plastic handles of the grocery haul in his hands, shaking his head as he pushes the door closed behind him with his boot-clad foot.

“Don’t like that you're keeping your door unlocked, bebita. S’not safe, what if I wasn’t me?” The strict, skeptical agent shows through — paranoia in his eyes while he sets down the bags on your counter, walking back over to lock the door and shrug off his black leather jacket. Underneath his outerwear, the black short-sleeve button-up clings to his torso and stretches at his shoulders. It’s tucked into his usual jeans with his belt on display, and one look exchanged with him reminds him to kick off his shoes — baby blue socks with small figures of different types of dogs patterning the surfaces of them.

“Hello to you, Javier,” you chuckle and turn back to your books, continuing to read over the chapter summary you were engrossed with before his entrance.

His sock-covered feet pad softly over to you at your dining table, taking in the sight of you before he stands behind you, leaning down to kiss the top of your head.

“Hi, bebita.” He smiles when you lay your head back to look up at him behind you, grinning and giggling when he leans over again to kiss you. “Missed you.”

“I’m just giving you shit.” A laugh leaves your mouth in quiet breaths when he rolls his eyes, steps back to your kitchen counter and starts to unpack everything. You pull yourself away from the table to follow him over, shaking your head at all of the snacks, drinks, and extra pens and notecards spilling out of the bags. “Gosh, Javi. How much stuff did you get?”

He glanced at you sheepishly, shrugging, “Didn’t know what you might want, so kind of got everything I thought you’d like.”

One hand lands on his bicep closest to you, turning his attention to you for you to lean up and kiss him sweetly. You can feel your heart in your throat at the expanse of his thoughtfulness, truly wanting to come over to help without any other expectations.

“I like your socks, by the way.” Another kiss is stolen before you’re back to the table, plopping down and attempting to fall back into studying. A long sigh leaves your lips and Javi frowns when he looks over at you, hyper-focused on all the text laid out in front of you. He putters around your kitchen, poking through to find plates and silverware to keep from asking you; dishing up the takeout he got after putting away the snacks and drinks, he walks back over and sets a plate down in front of you.

“Pause for a few minutes, angel, you gotta eat. And I got your favorite from that Thai restaurant we went to last week.” Javi takes the seat at the corner next to you, pulling away your books to clear a spot for you to eat. The look on your face is painful when you pick up the fork as if any more energy expended for a task other than studying is too much to handle.

“Thank you, Javi. Really. I think it would have been one of those eating shredded cheese from the bag or potato chips over the sink kind of nights if you didn’t come.”

“No need to apologize, bebita. M’always here for you,” he speaks tenderly with a smile, the two of you making light conversation while you eat. Before he clears the plates back to the kitchen, he takes your hand lying on the surface and toys with your fingers. “You can tell me to fuck off and I won’t be offended, but I’ll stick around for a few minutes in case you need me, okay?”

Immediately you shake your head and grip his hand in yours, “No, please stay. D’you mind helping me study? Like quizzing me or something? I want….I want you to stay here. Please.”

Javier holds back a wide smile, giddiness kicking up inside him. He clears his throat and nods, squeezing your hand. He stands up and bends forward to kiss your forehead, “Course I’ll help you study, angel. Let me clean up all this and then we’ll get started, yeah?”

It’s for the next couple of hours that Javier studies with you, asking you sample exam questions from the textbook and quizzing you with the notecards that you’ve made. He keeps you supplied with snacks and hydrated with water, intermittently joking with you to keep you relaxed.

It’s about eleven o’clock at night, Javi’s been here for four hours, and the rest of the weekend is ahead of you both. He’s sitting at the kitchen table, newly made notecards in his hands while you pace the kitchen in front of him. A hand runs through your hair, tugging and sighing when you can’t remember.

“God, I don’t—I don’t know…” You continue your pacing and shake your head, feeling your heart rate increase and your throat start to constrict with anxiety. The hand in your hair moves to press against your chest. “I really don’t know, shit, can you—can you tell me please?”

“Lombroso’s concept of a born criminal is atavism.”

The next few cards you also forget or get wrong and after the last incorrect answer, you stop in the tracks of your pacing. Angry tears of frustration burn at your eyes, words caught in your throat, and breaths come out short and harsh. Javier looks up at you when your movement stops, brows knitting together with concern when he sees the tears in your eyes and hears the clipped inhales and exhales.

“Bebita, c’mere.” Javi pats his lap and you shuffle over, straddling his legs and sitting in his lap to face him. “Let’s call it for tonight. We have all weekend to get you feeling confident for the exam, but trying to push yourself anymore tonight is only going to make you feel worse.”

“But—"

Javier shakes his head and brings his hands up to cradle your face, thumbs swiping away the few tears that have fallen.

“No, no ‘buts’. There’s no need to be getting upset about it. You’re exhausted and overworked, you’ve been doing this all day. And you know all of this, I know you do, angel. You’re too tired to concentrate and you need to rest.”

“God, I wish I could turn my brain off. This is all I’m gonna be thinkin’ about.”

“I can help with that, bebita.” Javier’s hands run up and down your thighs, snaking around to palm your ass with a gentle squeeze.

“Oh, yeah? And how would you do that?” You play dumb, feigning innocence to his suggestion. Brow cocked up, mouth pursued in curiosity.

“Hm, think we both know what I would do, but m’happy to tell you.” His hands roam again, trailing up your sides to cup under your breasts through your flimsy t-shirt. Your nipples pebble underneath the material when his thumbs brush over them, a satisfied smirk on his face at the sight. “I’ll take you into your bedroom. Kiss you, play with you until you’re dripping for me. And then I’m gonna use my mouth on you, jus’ like the first time, and make you come for me over and over until I think you’re ready. And when you’re begging for me, I’ll give you exactly what you want, bebita. My sweet zorrita is gonna get exactly what she needs — a good fucking.”

Your hips start to grind into his lap, nodding slowly as you listen to him and whining quietly as your eyes close. His hands stall your motions, bringing your attention to him as he admires you from below.

“Let’s go, baby. Think you need it now,” he rasps out, helping you up from his lap and following close behind you. His hands stay at your hips while you walk ahead of him at a delayed pace, his lips kissing and teeth biting at your neck. Trailing down the hallway, he slowly undresses you, leaving each article of clothing on the floor in your wake. Once the two of you reach your bedroom, he turns you toward him and kisses you hurriedly, moaning against your lips when he feels your hand palm him over his jeans.

Javier pulls himself back from you, shaking his head as he steps you backward to hit the edge of your bed, pushing you to sit and nodding to the center of the mattress. You scoot back a bit until he stops you in place, getting onto his knees at the side of the bed and hooking your legs over his shoulders.

He unbuttons a few of the top buttons on his shirt, loosening the material around his shoulders, and licks his lips as he takes in the sight of your glistening cunt.

“God, bebita, you’re always so ready for me. Whenever I want you. Do I get you that worked up being around you, hm?” His tone is cocky as he speaks, dragging two fingers through your folds and collecting some of your wetness. He slips those fingers in his mouth, working his tongue around them and moaning at the taste of you. The fingers pull out of his mouth with an audible pop, and you get onto your elbows to look at him in the eyes as he pushes those same fingers into your entrance.

“Fuck, Javi…” you moan, rolling your head back as he fucks you with his fingers, shallow and slow at first. He’s mesmerized by the view of you taking it easily, sweet little sounds hitting his ears in a satisfying way. “M-More, please. Pretty please.”

“Only because you asked so nicely, angel.” He chuckles and adds another digit, picking up his speed and getting as deep into you as he can. His other hand uses its thumb to run quick circles on your dripping clit, moaning to himself when your noises get louder and higher pitched. “You close already, bebita?”

“Yesyesyes, fuck, m’gonna come—“ You clench around his fingers, gripping the duvet under your hands.

“Ask, baby. Gotta mind your manners, mi zorrita.”

“Ple—please may I come, Javi? M’so close, oh my god,” you tack a whine at the end, lifting your hips and huffing out a breath when he pushes them back down.

“Go ahead, bebita. Come for me—" You moan his name loudly and squeeze your eyes shut, your walls gripping around his fingers tightly. “Oh, yes, fuck. That’s it, angel, that’s it.”

He works you through your orgasm, your breaths evening out after a minute. Once you’ve come down, you realize he’s inching closer between your legs, lips dragging along your inner thighs. Before you can get a word out, his mouth is on you, sucking your clit harshly. Your whine raises in pitch, hands tangling in his hair to push him away.

When he lifts his head, his dark eyes find yours as he licks his lips.

“Gonna let me taste this sweet little cunt, angelita? Make good on all my promises,” he challenges you and you breathe out a ‘yes’, all the permission he needs to put his head between your thighs.

At his first full taste, a switch flips and he devours you like a starving man — sucking, licking, fucking you with his tongue. You’re writhing under him, one strong hand splayed against your lower tummy to keep you down.

“Javi, oh fuck, feels so fucking good—oh my god, you’re so fucking good at this. Has anyone ever told you that?” You ramble the closer you get and Javi smirks against you, the words egging him on to give you more.

He pulls two conservative orgasms from you with his mouth, sucking your clit and licking into your walls with his tongue. Your brain is slowly shutting off, study materials are completely forgotten, and limbs light as air as you lay back on the bed.

Javier stands from the floor, a soft groan and clicking of his knees drawing your attention to him. He strips down from his own clothes, standing in his underwear and nodding to you on the bed.

“Scoot up, baby — that’s it, good girl.” He smirks when you move languidly, reaching out for him when he climbs onto the bed on his knees. Your arms fall to rest stretched above your head, putting you completely on display for him.

“How d’you want me, Javi?” you purr and it nearly sends him reeling, but he shakes his head and smirks down at you.

“Jus’ like this, babygirl. Wanna be able to see you, watch your pretty face as I take care of you.” Javier reaches his hand toward you, instructing you to lick. He takes the same hand and wraps it around his cock, stroking himself as he spreads your legs with his other hand. Settling between them, he drags the head of his cock through your folds, nudging your overly sensitive clit and chuckling darkly when your thighs twitch.

“Javi, please—" He shuts you up with further teasing, slipping himself inside, just the tip. He hisses from behind his bared teeth, rolling his head back to recover before he gives a few pumps of his hips and pulls out of you completely. The next move he teases your clit again, sliding his cock down to prod at the entrance of your tightest hole before moving back up to your cunt slipping just the tip inside of you again.

Under him, you're twitching and writhing with whines and whimpers, gripping the sheets.

“Javi, please, need you.” You choke out, a soft sob of a moan when he keeps fucking you with only his tip, refusing to give you any more inches. The next word leaves on an exhale before you can think about it, “Daddy…”

“What was that, bebita? Didn’t quite hear you.”

“Daddy, fuck me, please.”

Javier stills for a moment, processing exactly what you said while you’re silent, anxiety heightening with each tick of the clock and his lack of response. His hips are still shallowly fucking you, involuntary whimpers escaping your mouth.

“Daddy, huh? You wanna call me that? Got you so cockdumb before I’ve even given it to you.” His eyes are nearly pitched-black, desire evident in his roaming, worshiping hands.

“Yes, yes please, daddy. I need you, please.” The words catch in your throat and you arch your back for him, tits slightly jiggling with the motion.

“You wanted to work on your Spanish, huh? No daddy, bebita. Llámame Papí (Call me Papí). Say it, bebita. Say it for me, buena chica.” His acceptance of your knee-jerk word spill has your mind melting, clenching your walls around the tip of his cock that’s buried inside of you. “Say it.”

“Papí…” you exhale, the noise choking in your throat when he thrusts hard to fill you up to the hilt. A sobbing moan leaves your mouth when he pulls nearly out of you, only to start a punishing pace fucking you hard and deep.

“That’s right, bebita. M’taking care of you, right? Just like a papí should. You call me that as much as you want, angel. Like hearing it come from you.”

Javier grunts at the strain of how hard he’s fucking you, the sounds of your whines and his groans mixing into a melody with the slaps of skin together. It’s filthy if anyone was looking in, but the thought of that makes him fuck you harder, relishing in the sound of your wetness squelching around his cock.

“God, mi bebita, you are taking my cock so well. You like it? Am I filling you up?”

“Yes—oh my god, taking care of me…”

“That’s right, bebita, M’gonna take care of you. You wanna come on my cock, angel?”

“Yes please, daddy…”

Javi’s hips stutter at you saying it, starting again harder and faster, “Not daddy, bebita. You wanna call me that, you call me Papí, baby. Let me hear you say it.”

“P-Papí, oh my fuck, feels so good. So full, Papí.” You’re rambling under him, incomplete and incoherent thoughts, “Oh, fuck— Just there— Papí, papí, papí, ohmygod right there!”

The name is dripping with sweetness from your lips, snapping something into his brain. He’s desperate to provide for you, to take care of you in any way you need. Right now, that is fucking you dumb enough to forget about your stress. Tomorrow, it’ll be getting you coffee in the morning and helping you reevaluate your study materials.

Underneath him, you’re feeling something of the same, enamored with the man above you. The same one who drove around town to pick up things he thought you would like, feeding you, helping you study. The one who smiles at you in the halls, and calls you his babygirl behind doors. Now, he’s fucking you into oblivion and melting your brain to mush to give you what you need. He grips your legs and presses them to fold at your sides, the adjusted position bringing him deeper than before. The head of him hits that special spot inside of you, over and over until it’s driving you to the edge fast.

“Oh, fuck! Papí! Please—Please, please, please. Gonna come, please may I come, Papí?” Your brain turns on its entire leftover power to ask politely, knowing your manners would still have to be minded with your cockdumb mind.

“Such a good girl, so polite. Come for me, bebita. Let me feel your tight pussy grip my cock.” Javier groans when you let go as soon as you get his permission, relishing in the look on your face with a perfect ‘O’ mouth and walls sucking him in further as his thrusts slow down. The tightness of you brings him to his own peak, feeling precum dribbling out inside of you as he gets as close to the edge as possible.

“Oh fuck, fuck, angel. Gonna fucking come, where d’you want me?” His brow knits together with a look of pain, and you breathlessly answer.

“Outside, please, Papí. Anywhere else you want.”

He nods and pulls out of you, using his fist to fuck himself, painting his come across your torso in long ropes. Javier moans your name over and over under his breath, squeezing his eyes shut as his chest heaves with relief.

It’s quiet, nothing spoken while you both crash down. In a moment of clarity in his post-orgasm haze, he stretches over to your nightstand to grab a few tissues, wiping you clean of his spend. He tosses it in your desk trash bin, searching around the floor for his clothes. When he picks up his boxers, you make a small noise of protest and grab his attention.

“Don’t—Um, would you—" You can’t get the words out, shyness clawing at your throat. Javier fills in the blanks, smiling softly at you as he drops his boxers and climbs back onto your bed over your lying form.

“D’you want me to stay, bebita?”

You nod and smile sheepishly, wrapping your arms around his neck and grinning wider when he leans down to kiss you chastely.

“Can you ask me, angel?”

“Will you have a sleepover with me…Papí?” you giggle as you tack on the name at the end, Javier smirking and nodding his head.

“Of course I’ll stay. And if you keep pulling that out all the time, there’s going to be a lot of fucking in random places. Jus’ does something for me.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhmm. Think you know that, bebita. Mi bebita.” 

“Well, that does the same thing for me.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhmm. I like being your bebita.”

“Siempre, Bebita. Always gonna be it.” Javier punctuates the conversation with another kiss, laying down completely next to you and wrapping you up in his arms. His fingers play with your hair, laying your head on his chest as you close your eyes.

A thought pops into your head, picking up your head to look Javi in the eyes.

“Are you gonna be going to the department event next week?”

“That’s what you’re thinking about right now, angel?”

“Yes, now please answer.” You poke his chest, giggling when he pinches your side playfully.

“I will be there, yes, Bebita. I’m assuming you’re going too?” He asks as he closes his eyes, exhaustion overcoming him slowly.

You smile and bite your lip, tracing shapes against his skin, “Well, would you wanna pick out my dress for it?”

That grabs his attention, his eyes shooting open with a grin growing across his face.

“Gonna let me choose what I get to see you in, Bebita? Don’t know if you want that, 'cause I could have you walking around in nothing.”

You snort out a laugh, shaking your head before laying on his chest again and closing your eyes to sleep.

“We both know you wouldn’t do that. Would you really want all those people looking at me? Thought I was all yours, don’t you wanna keep me to yourself?”

“Damn, you’re right. Guess I’ll have to pick out a pretty dress and then I can take you home and have you walk around in nothing for me.” He smiles and kisses the top of your head, sighing out a tired exhale. “Now, sleep time, Bebita. You dream of the pretty dresses I’ll get for you, no exams, and I’ll be dreamin’ about you in nothing.”

A laugh escapes your lips, nodding in agreement, “Goodnight, Javi.”

“Night, Bebita.” There’s more he wants to say, burning in his chest, but he knows it’s too soon — too much right now and it would scare you off. Instead, he holds you closer and kisses your head again, drifting off contently with you in his arms to take care of.

taglist: @northernbluess @swiftispunk @joelsversion @mrsquill @yazsos @cartoon-garbage04 @ilovepedro @lovers-liability @deathwife @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @undrthelights @atticrissfinch @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @casa-boiardi @wannab-urs @fishingforpike @mrsjarvis @walkintotheriveranddisappear @sugadolly @tbniarq @vee-bees-blog @spidermanfrog @belliezz @joelsflannel @k-k0129 @bianqueee04 @nostalxgic @xyzstar @cumberpegg @peppesgirl @pastawench @addictedtotlou @brittmb115 @anoverwhelmingdin @spishsstuff @wolfbook87 @mswarriorbabe80 @harriedandharassed @decemberdolly @laiisleitte @fierce-bab @vickie5446

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#javier #writing #only angel #javier peña x reader #javier peña x female reader #javier peña x f!reader #javier peña smut #javier peña au #javier peña angst #javier peña fic #javier peña fanfic #javier peña fanfiction #javier pena fic #javier pena fanfic #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x female reader #javier pena x f!reader #narcos fic #narcos fanfic #narcos fanfiction

[kawaiikenna]

Wrote this in an hour maybe? It’s time for bed. -_-;;; So enjoy this ficlet/long prompt/fic idea. Also this will probably be super triggering to some individuals. Please read with caution. I’m not going to tag all the tw’s though cause I’m faaaaar too tired. I’ll edit this tomorrow. Maybe. Eh, we’ll see.

Danny thought that life had been going just great. He had ended up being fostered by Wayne’s after a falling out with his parents over something that wasn’t even ghost related. The only reason why he was where he was, was because Bruce owed Vlad a favor. Danny didn’t know what kind of favor was owed, and he didn’t want to know. In the end he actually did get along with the gaggle of Wayne kids. It ended up being one of the most peaceful times in his life up until then.

Until it wasn’t.

The day had started off as normally as any other day he had been in the Wayne Manor. Danny woke up, got dressed, had breakfast with Bruce and the remaining siblings, then headed off to school. Nothing out of the ordinary. Except, Danny never made it to school.

There was no note, no call, nothing. It was as if Danny had suddenly stopped existing. No one saw anything. The cameras were spotty at best. They had no leads. Nothing to go off of. Nothing, nothing, nothing. Day after day, week after week. There was nothing until suddenly there was something.

An unaddressed envelope with several embossed tickets inside. Each ticket had a vigilante’s name scrawled in Danny’s very distinctive half cursive writing. That week on Friday night, there was to be a kind of traveling entertainer’s troupe in town. The main attraction was apparently a white haired boy that would end up doing all sorts of extremely dangerous tricks and dares. The batfam geared up and hoped that somewhere, somehow, they would be able to find Danny here at this almost circus themed attraction.

What they found instead was a completely empty building. The inside was set up in a way that made it seem like it was the inside of a Hollywood circus tent. Sheets of fabric hung from the ceiling, there was a ring set up in the center with a platform in the middle of that. A tightrope set up far above their heads, a metal hoop dangled down from the ceiling, thick ropes of fabric strung up on either side.

Suddenly, a bright spotlight lit up the center platform. There, two figures were illuminated. Both clowns but extremely different from each other. One the batfam knew almost intimately, Joker. The other, a stranger but he seemed to fit in with the aesthetic of their city.

All batfam members are incapacitated and forced to watch against their will. For some reason they’ve been wrapped up in 2D, neon green animals.

The two present the fantabulous Phantom. The white haired boy from the poster appeared from nowhere. As Joker and the newly introduced Freak Show narrated, Phantom did everything they said. He interacted with various props, did a few tricks, he juggled at one point. Sharp daggers whirling through the air in a professional practiced manner until Freak Show said that somehow Phantom had fumbled. True to his word, the boy did fumble. Sharp daggers falling haphazardly around him. The teen did not move a single inch, even as a dagger nearly pierced through the flesh of his cheek leaving a long bleeding cut down his face. Instead it buried itself into the unmoving teen’s shoulder. He pulls the dagger out of his shoulder nonchalantly and lets it clatter to the floor.

Without getting any kind of treatment the teen starts up one of the pillars to get to the tightrope platform. There’s no safety gear in sight as the teen starts to walk the tightrope. Joker and Freak Show commiserate him on almost getting to the other side. At the last moment, Phantom ‘slips’ and is now hanging comically by one hand on the rope.

Two Joker lackeys come out with an old fireman’s trampoline. They run back and forth as they try to predict where Phantom would fall. In the end though, they miss completely and Phantom ends up landing in a broken heap on the ground.

At this point the batfam are in a nearly crazed state. Even if they don’t know exactly who Phantom is, this was wrong. It was all WRONG.

Under Joker and Freak Show’s prodding and goading, Phantom gets back up. Multiple traumatic wounds can be seen. But in the next instant flesh stitches itself back together and bones mend themselves back under his skin and back into place.

~~~

So basically our two clown dimwits are physically bullying and hurting Danny. Freak Show has the teen under mind control again and makes him extremely docile. There’s no outward expression of any kind, his eyes are dead and unseeing. This goes on for a while until Freak Show tries to get Danny to hurt one of the batfam.

This does not go as planned at all and now they have an extremely angry and eldritch Danny on their hands. He goes on a rampage and ends up destroying nearly everything. But he still protects his newfound family, getting them out of harm’s way.

The batfam on the other hand have no clue how to process that their shy, sweet, quiet Danny is also the massive monster rampaging around.

After Danny had finally calmed down; he went straight to Bruce and promptly passed out. There was no waking the kid up until he decided to get up.

- - -

Will I expand on this idea? Meh. I’m not sure, maybe. I’d love to hear your guys’ thoughts on this though. -w-

#danny phantom #dp x dc #danny fenton #dc #dc x dp #batman #dp #dc comics #dpxdc #dp x dc prompt #batfam #writing prompts #dp x dc crossover #eldritch ghost king danny

[asexual-abomination]

This is the first part of a rewrite of the series that brought attention to my blog in the first place! When I wrote this series originally, it was at midnight when I couldn’t sleep because I had COVID, so I always wanted to come back and rewrite it with a clearer mind.

It’s been a while since I’ve posted, cause I’ve been real stressed about university, but waking up to new notes on this blog is always a highlight of my day! I have so many WIPs for hxh, Overwatch, ff7, the batfamily, and now the spider-verse movies, but I’ve been struggling to complete them to an extent that I feel is worth posting.

Please leave a comment if you want me to rewrite the rest of the series!

Platonic!Yandere!Phantom Troupe X Autistic Reader (Soulmate AU)

Content warnings: Yandere, vague mentions of violence. Read at your own discretion.

“To my dearest soulmate.-“

No, too affectionate.

“To my soulmate, I am incredibly excited to welcome you here-“

The sentence is jarring, start with an introduction.

“To my soulmate, my name is YN, and I am so excited to finally have the chance to communicate with you!”

Good enough. You were so happy to be writing a letter like this, being able to rewrite and start over as often as needed, without the pressure of saying it right in the first try.

Having finished one sentence, you sighed as you looked down at the number of things you had crossed out before it seemed right. Then, you turned to your notebook, where you had spent years collating everything you wanted to put into this letter, trying to find some inspiration for what to do next.

“I have been awaiting this day, carved into our bodies, for my entire life.”

Was that too formal? Too strong?

Ugh. This was hard.

You despised knowing nothing about your soulmate, the enigma of their identity making them feel otherworldly and strange. Without knowing even the slightest bit about who they were, you had no frame of reference for what they would consider too much or too fast, leaving you to blindly feel your way towards a half-coherent letter.

Jo was sat across from you, in their favourite shabby armchair, pretending to watch the football you had put on for background noise, and not-so-secretly keeping an eye on you. From your dejected sigh as you curled up on the sofa, your childhood friend could tell what was bothering you from a single glance.

“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, they’re your soulmate, they’ll love you no matter what.”

“But they shouldn’t!” You sighed, “I want to impress them, make them feel welcomed and happy!”

“And that’s what I’m gettin’ at! Their personality must be suited enough to yours that they’ll find your way of doin’ things loveable!”

You grumbled with no coherent response, looking again at your paper.

They’d find your way of doing things loveable.

You could work with that.

“I hope that I, and my friends, can make you feel happy and welcomed in my home. The time we will spend, with our bodies swapped, will be precious, and there will never be another time like it in our lives. You are precious to me.”

Your lips tugged downward in a frown at the last line, the irritating thoughts about potentially annoying your soulmate flooding you again. You had just let the pen run wild, trying to encapsulate even the smallest fraction of your feelings about the situation, which always ended up feeling like too much as your emotions overwhelmed you.

Just as you considered scrapping the whole thing and starting again from scratch, Jo caught your eye with a stern glare, as they always did when you doubted yourself.

“I have longed to know who you are for years; your mystery has entranced me. I want to see the destiny the universe has seen fit to bestow upon us both."

As you relaxed into the motions of the pen, the waterfall of words falling from your fingers, you stunned yourself with short poetic verses.

"Even though romance holds no place in what has been destined for us, I want to make you so happy that you may bear your heart to me as I may for you. Please take care of my body while you have it. I hope that one day I might trust with this on more than just blind faith.

All my love, from the bottom of my heart, your soulmate."

It felt weak. You felt weak.

Was it really right to say you loved someone you hadn't met? Even as soulmates, it felt like a betrayal.

"Hey Jo, do you mind reading through this for me? If I keep looking at it, I'll either throw it away or throw up."

"Ahh, YN, you know I'm not so good with words and that stuff, yeah? That's your job, ain't it?"

"Oh, hush, I've read your poetry, you big romantic!"

"What?"

You quickly hurried past them, dropping the drafted letter onto their lap before heading to the kitchen. Your hands were shaking; you needed to get some water before you passed out.

Your breaths were coming short as you downed a second glass of water, one arm shakily holding the lip of the sink for support as the anxiety began to weigh on your mind. You had less than a week; on this Sunday evening, you'd lie in bed and wake up in the body of your soulmate. It was Tuesday evening, the soft autumn air swirling dead leaves outside your window.

A phone began ringing in the living room, so you set down your glass on the draining board and began heading back through, only to realise the call wasn't for you when you heard Jo's voice.

"Yeah, I hear ya. No need to yell, old man... Oh, shut yer trap; you know I'm only half joking... You know I said wasn't working tonight... Yeah, yeah... You piece of shit! Fine, I'll be there, but you better be payin' me double time for this shit."

Jo rounded the corner, grumbling under their breath. They paused at your side, leaning in slightly to speak, the smell of beer on their breath and thankfully not overwhelming.

"Listen, yer letter was grand, okay? You've got a talent for these sortsa things. I've gotta head out, alright? Probably won't be back until morning. I'll bring you back something nice alright, repayment for skipping what should have been a nice night together."

"It's alright, really. Just take care of yourself, okay?" You reassured them.

They walked out into the biting chill, heading down a dark alley like it was their own front door.

--//--

Chrollo looked himself in the eyes, the cold water he splashed on his face dripping from his hair.

He had felt strange the past few days, like something was clinging to the back of his mind, tugging his attention away from his work. As if a song was stuck in his head, but he couldn't remember the melody.

The Mediterranean heat must have been getting to his head; that was the only explanation. He composed himself, wiping his brow before he went to slick his hair back, turning his focus to the heist he and the Troupe would be carrying out that Sunday.

--//--

The week had been long and stressful for everyone involved. You tried not to be too much of a perfectionist, but you wanted to make the best impression possible.

The morning of the day you would switch was upon you, and you came downstairs to find Jo asleep on your couch, as they often were. You smiled at their sleeping face, very peaceful compared to their usual furrowed brow.

Their face was made up of sharp lines, almost geometric perfection, except for the mess of freckles covering their cheeks and forehead, adding just a hint of softness.

As you prepared breakfast for the two of you, Jo woke up with a sleepy groan, trudging over to the kitchen counter.

"Today's the day, huh? The last day of me being your best friend?"

"Jo! Don't say it like that! I'll always love you, you know that!" You defended yourself.

"Oh, don't worry, I'm just joking. You deserve to be happy with your soulmate."

You frowned at that again, remembering the situation with Jo's own soulmate. You had both been so excited to look her up after the switch, only to discover that she had died in a sudden car crash within an hour.

After that, they became much more clingy with your time. When they were around, at least. They had also begun taking on many more "jobs" that took them far away.

You sympathised with their situation, but you could tell they harboured jealousy for your soulmate.

You sat down on the couch, breakfast in hand, as Jo came to sit at your side. You flicked through channels on TV, trying to alleviate the awkward tension that fell over the room.

"Listen, I'm not jealous."

"It's okay to admit it; I can understand your perspective! But you can't keep me from my soulmate!"

"No, it's not that! It's more that I'm... paranoid."

"Paranoid, about... what, exactly?"

"About your soulmate! I can't explain it, but I've got this bad feeling!"

"A bad feeling? What kind of bad feeling?"

You learned a long time ago that Jo's intuition was often correct, but were they really concerned or just trying to pull you and your soulmate apart?

"I just said, I can't explain it! I just don't want anything bad to happen to you!"

You sighed as you felt that both of you were becoming too worked up.

"Okay, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to accuse you. I think... we're all quite stressed right now. Let's have a proper talk when we're not all so high-strung."

"Yeah, yeah."

Today was gonna be fun.

--//--

Chrollo smiled at the carnage surrounding him, watching as his friends unleashed their power on these pathetic guards. They heard the approaching rumble of reinforcements, which, by their calculations, should contain the man they were after.

His incredible enhancer ability would be handy for Chrollo, so they had spent days sieging the fortress he defended. As Nobunaga took to whittling down the primary reinforcements, Chrollo found himself distracted once again. That strange feeling in the back of his head, the itch he couldn't scratch, saying that something was wrong.

He shook his head to free himself of these thoughts, as the intimidating man faced him, seemingly unaware of exactly who he was fighting.

--//--

Despite your small fight with Jo, the day had gone well. You had prepared several cakes, which you poured plenty of love into. You also wrote your letter into one coherent piece and placed it in an envelope, which you taped to inside of your bedroom door.

A group of your friends arrived, all bearing various snacks and drinks to add to the table. As the conversation began to flow, you anxiously reminded them of the careful limits you had gone over for what they were allowed to say to your soulmate. They all laughed and smiled, promising to go along.

Almost on autopilot, you turned to Jo for reassurance, and they were in a good enough mood to laugh softly and promise to keep the others in line.

You knew Jo wouldn't go back on their word, no matter their personal feelings about the situation.

With everything laid out enticingly on a coffee table, you retired to your bedroom for the night, your gut swirling with anxiety and excitement.

You laid back on your bed, crossing your hands across your stomach. You had until exactly 21:29 to wait for the switch.

Looking over at the clock you had bought for this express purpose, you saw 21:27.

It'll probably feel like forever, you thought, plenty of time to get comfortable.

21:28

That's fine; you took a few deep breaths, settling down into your pillows. You closed your eyes softly.

Breathing deeply. With your eyes closed.

In, and out, in, and out.

Curiosity got the better of you.

Your eyes snapped open, turning back to the clock, getting to see just the slightest glimpse of 21:29 before everything changed.

--//--

Chrollo sighed from the driver's seat, just a straight highway unfolding seemingly infinitely in front and behind him. Confident in his ability to avoid traffic by instinct, he allowed his eyes to drift to the clock on the screen, 00:28 blinking back at him.

That time bothered him.

It wasn't unusual for him to stay up past midnight, more common than not, in fact, but that itch he couldn't scratch, that sweet song that slipped his mind's grasp, was back in full force, making him grit his teeth in irritation.

He returned his eyes to the road before him, though he only caught a glimpse of the asphalt-laden horizon before everything changed.

--//--

In a moment, you felt everything shift. You could feel it down to the change in the structure of your skeleton. Every muscle was different, every sensation infinitely sharpened by the new body you inhabited.

You felt that you were sitting, not lying down. You saw that you were looking out at a road.

And then, finally, you realised you were driving the car.

It was common knowledge that the swap allowed people to speak in the native tongue of their soulmate, but you wondered if you would be the first to discover that the same thing applied to driving skills.

You focused on the road and on keeping your breathing steady, aware that a panic attack here would result in much more than a headache and a sore throat in the long run.

Once finally began to calm down, you briefly peeled your eyes off the road to look your soulmate in the eyes in the rearview mirror. His grey eyes were striking, and his raven black hair was slicked back to his head, revealing a strange tattoo in the centre of his forehead. He was quite attractive, all things considered.

You felt a brush of air across your chest and again glanced down to notice you were completely shirtless, other than a feathery collared jacket that did nothing to hide your soulmate's toned body. Definitely a bold outfit choice, but you couldn't deny that it suited him well.

After a few more moments assuring yourself of the safety of the road, you tried to look at the other passengers of the car. You had seen them when you looked at yourself in the mirror, but you couldn't bear to think about them at that moment.

In the passenger seat was a pink-haired woman, her face stoic as she stared ahead. Behind you was a grumpy-looking man with black hair leaning into the window. In the centre of the backseat was a blond man with a cute face, tapping away at a modified phone of some kind. Furthest from you, behind the passenger seat, was a gruff-looking man with slicked-back blond hair.

None of them seemed to have noticed a change in their driver's behaviour, so you had a few more moments to collect yourself before you spoke up. Although you were still grappling with the fact that your soulmate had entirely forgotten about your switch, you didn't want to waste your time.

"I don't know... quite what's happening here, but I'm this person's soulmate."

You could taste something sweet with just the slightest hint of bitterness on your own breath.

The car had been silent before you spoke, but the silence grew heavier. Now every eye was on you, and you almost wished you hadn't said anything, that you had let the switch play out in complete silence before returning to your own body.

"What?" The taller blond man finally replied.

"I'm... their soulmate? Did they not tell anyone?"

"Boss had a soulmate?" He turned to the other blond man, ignoring you completely.

"Not as far as I know!"

"Look at me."

That last bit was said by the pink-haired woman next to you. With no small amount of fear in your heart, you ripped your eyes away from the road to look her in the eyes. Her cold, calculating eyes pierced you through and through. After what felt like aeons that she spent observing you, she let out the slightest gasp.

"You're not lying."

As soon as you had the reassurance that they believed you, you looked back at the road, relieved to see no danger.

"Are you serious? Are you messing with us, boss?" The black-haired man spoke, his tone rising to aggression.

"Calm down, all of you! This is the boss's soulmate, obviously!"

"But why wouldn't he tell us at all? This is crazy!"

"I don't know! Maybe he wanted to test us?"

"Sorry to interrupt, but what's going on here?"

The pink-haired woman turned back to from where she had been scolding the other passengers, sighing before she spoke.

"Look, sorry about all this ruckus. It's just that we're pretty close to our boss, and he never even told us he had a soulmate!"

"Seriously? Weird..." You trailed off, unsure of how to fill in the dead air.

"My name's Machi; what's yours?"

"I'm YN. Who is this?" You asked, gesturing slightly at your own body.

"Oh right, our boss's name is Chrollo. In the backseat, there is Nobunaga, Shalnark, and Phinks." She pointed each one out to you.

Behind you, Shalnark and Nobunaga were whispering to each other as they looked intently at Shalnark's phone.

"And where are you from, YN?" Shalnark spoke up again, a bright smile on his face as he watched you through the rearview.

"I'm from CN; where are we right now?"

The conversation continued like that for some time, with simple back-and-forth questions. Jo had advised you not to share too much sensitive information, and you couldn't help but get the inkling of a feeling that they were right.

The way that Shalnark would ask you questions before he immediately turned back to his phone alighted some anxiety in your gut, so you tried to turn the conversation back on them.

"So, you say that my soulmate here is your boss? What do you do?"

You didn't miss the beat of silence, but you tried to give them the benefit of the doubt that they had been put on the spot.

"We're traders, mostly," Shalnark started, "We travel around, buying and selling antiques and treasures and stuff!"

"Wow, that sounds like fun!"

"It can get tiring sometimes, but it's really fulfilling!"

There was a breath of relief from the car before Nobunaga spoke up, excitedly telling you a story of a time they had visited your home country for their business. Finally, it felt as if the atmosphere was relaxing, with everyone joining in to add details to the story.

You smiled softly, relieved that you no longer felt like an insect under a magnifying glass. It was pitch-black outside the car, and there were very few other cars on the road, so you felt safe enough to relax your grip on the steering wheel just a touch as well.

As you leaned back in the driver's seat, listening to Phinks avidly tell you about the food they had enjoyed in the capital of your home country, you felt the night's excitement finally hit you.

And how unlucky that you had just relaxed when you suddenly found yourself back in your own living room.

--//--

Chrollo snapped awake in his place, feeling that he had gone from his spot sitting to lying down in the blink of an eye. Immediately, he threw himself into a standing position, assuming the car had been surprise attacked.

At the same moment, he reached for his knife while attempting to summon Bandit's Secret. His anxiety only heightened when he realised that he had neither.

Finally trying to observe the situation and pinpoint his potential attacker, he slowly began to piece together what was going on.

He was in a neat bedroom and had been lying in bed. On the bedside clock, he read 21:29 in red blinking letters.

Oh shit.

Oh fuck.

His soulmate.

Ten years ago, he had made sure that his soulmate date was entirely obscured by his spider tattoo, going as far as to go to a different tattoo artist than the rest and killing them afterwards. He had to protect his soulmate, lest they be used against him. But in his attempt to defend them, he had completely forgotten to prepare anything.

Shit.

He looked around the room, trying to get his bearings now that he wasn't in danger. A mirror poised on one wall allowed him to observe his soulmate. He ran a hand over his cheek as he watched the skin move in abject fascination. All these sensations were raised in intensity; even in this body without Nen, he felt everything to a pinpoint. He suddenly became aware that he could taste a tiny bit of mint; they had even taken the time to brush their teeth to ensure his comfort.

There was an envelope taped to the inside of the door, obviously meant for him. Picking it off the door with an uncharacteristic level of gentleness, he sat back down on the bed to read.

The letter nearly sprung tears to his eye; how blessed was he to have someone so passionate! He could feel the depth of emotion poured into the letter, the way you spilt your heart out on the page.

He sat on the bed, eyes scanning over every line, reading and rereading the poetry before him.

"Do you think they're okay? I heard some movement inside, but it's been silent since. Do you think they fell and hurt their head?"

"Ugh, I'll knock and go check."

It hadn't occurred to him that there would be other people here - just another example of the care and thought you had put in.

He opened the door to a freckled face, who wore an expression of surprise as their hand was still in the air, having been about to knock. Immediately, he turned on the charm, knowing he could at least cover up for his lack of planning on this end.

"Oh, sorry about that; I didn't realise I was expected!" He added his best chuckle, followed by, "My soulmate is quite the poet; I've been entranced!"

He waved the letter to show it off before stepping past the newcomer. But he stopped briefly while he was right next to them. He could feel it.

The cold, calculating look in their eye, the robust build, the scars along their hands. They were from Meteor City.

With a polite nod, he continued into the living room, though he could feel that person's eyes on him the whole way. He was greeted with three cakes and a wide selection of snacks and drinks. He cursed that you wouldn't be getting such a cosy reception on your end.

The conversation flowed easily as soon as he introduced himself; everyone was excited to tell him things or ask him questions. He easily lied his way through questions about his profession; it was like second nature to the charismatic thief. Everyone in attendance was charmed by him except that damn person from Meteor City. Just as he began considering if he might have to kill them, they leaned forwards, interrupting another one of your friends.

"You smoke?"

Chrollo had smoked once or twice in his youth but had never had a taste for it. He shook his head no, hoping they would drop it there.

"Too bad, 'cause I do, and I want a private chat with you. Step outside."

With their authoritative voice, he knew he was not avoiding the following conversation.

The biting chill on his cheeks felt much sharper than usual, his own body having learned to withstand much harsher conditions. However, he was scarcely given a moment to enjoy the sensation before Jo interrupted.

"You're from Meteor City."

"I'm aware."

"Hmph. Are you a thief?"

"Of course, aren't you?"

"My work isn't the prettiest, but I'm not that low. I owe that to YN."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"They lifted me up and out of that place of their own goodwill. When I escaped that place, we met by chance, and they offered their hand to give me a new life. They're the reason I stay on the straight and narrow. I'll do anything to protect them; you should know that."

"I will, too; surely you should know that. I'm their soulmate."

"And you're also a thief. Probably a prolific one, from how easily you lied about your career. I want to protect them for their sake; you just want to protect them for your own sake. You won't be taking them anywhere; I'll steal them away where you'll never find them again if you try."

"That's quite the threat; are you sure you can follow through?"

"I'll have to, for them."

Chrollo chuckled at this silly notion. As if they could really do anything to take his soulmate away now that he knew they were here.

He watched Jo's silhouette retreat back into the warm light of your home, a smirk spread across his face at their sheer bravery, before everything changed.

--//--

Snapping back to your own body, now standing, was jarring, to say the least. Jo looked over their shoulder at your gasp as you nearly lost your balance, rushing over to catch you before you hurt yourself.

"Oh, hey there!" You laughed, looking up at them.

"Hey." They sounded standoffish, but their smile was undeniable.

"What are we doing outside?"

"Oh, I just wanted a smoke, and he followed me to chat."

You couldn't smell any smoke in the air, and you felt like something was being hidden from you, but you were just so tired and happy to be back that you chose to push that down for now.

"I'm gonna go to bed. Can you tell the others to go home? I need to just lie down ASAP."

"You got it. I'm gonna have to head out again soon as well, so I'll see you again whenever I get back."

--//--

"So." Machi started, addressing the newly-returned Chrollo, "What was that all about?"

Everyone was hushed, awaiting the boss's answer.

"You already know that was my soulmate. I had... forgotten to tell anyone."

More silence flooded the car as the other members of the spider internally debated whether or not they wanted to risk their necks by making a joke.

"Well, you'll be glad to know we're on the right path to get to them!" Shalnark cut in with his usual cheer, hoping to distract from the current situation.

"Really?"

"It'll be a few days even if we pick up the pace, but Feitan is currently in that country and can start keeping an eye on them ASAP. I'm concerned about their safety, especially considering their medical records."

"There's no need for too much worry," Chrollo said calmly

"What do you mean?!" Nobunaga was incredulous; how could the boss take his soulmate's safety so easily?

"Someone is protecting them already, someone we'll have to take care of, but a valuable protector, for now, all the same."

--//--

Thanks for reading!

#autism #platonic yandere #hxh x reader #hxh #yandere #yandere hxh #yandere chrollo #yandere phantom troupe #platonic x reader #platonic soulmates #platonic #soulmate au #yandere soulmate #autistic reader

[midnightsun-if]

the reactions of the ros to the scenario of mc forgetting to smooch them were so good, all of them ugh <3 Sloane had me laughing the most to myself... they're so dramatic and sulky PLS LMAO the wet dog energy is so real, Sloane deserves all the smooches in the world.

If you could, would it be possible for you to give us the reactions of the ros that didn't take the initiate to get their smooch if mc suddenly barged in the room minutes later to kiss them and be like "I almost forgot, have a good day <3" before leaving once more.

We need justice for Sloane, C and Caden especially ("the absence of your presence, of the kiss that you always bestowed onto them, more stifling than they’d ever believed it could be" was beautifully written but it had me sad AAAA)

Sloane absolutely does have wet dog energy. They’re an angry individual because of various things that’ve happened to them, and it being one of the only ways they were able to express themself, but they always predominantly get more angry at themself than they do other people. It’s something that’ll they will try to work on and slowly begin to cope with— a journey that I’m excited to start.

Follow up to this ask.

Koda:

At the smile you offer him return, a weight is lifted from his chest. He wasn’t sure if his return kiss plan would work out, even his most simplest of plans never did, but the sight of your joy more than made up for all his failures in the past.

“Thank you, Koda.” In return you press a brief kiss to his lips, warmed by his unceasing care for you. “I appreciate it. I’m sorry that I forgot, I’m just running late in meeting Blake.”

Koda beams down at you, nose nuzzling against yours. “That’s alright, Anon. It just means I’ll have to kiss you more every time you forget.”

Scarlett:

At your continued silence, a saccharine smile flits across her lips, emerald eyes flashing merrily in a way that’d spell for trouble for anyone that wasn’t you. With natural born grace, Scarlett easily maneuvers to her feet to make her way closer to you. “Playing coy now, sweet thing?” She tsks, brow furrowed disapprovingly. “Tell me, my beloved, what did you forget that’s so important.”

Your head tilts, eyes watching the subtle movements of her body. “Your kiss?”

Scarlett hums. “And I had such fun things planned for later.” Taking your chin between two fingers, the phantom press of her lips against yours being all that’s offered before she vanishes from your presence altogether. You’re only able to blink owlishly, the sight of your girlfriend once again reclined elegantly, being all that fills your vision. “Run along now, my beloved. You clearly have a busy day to get to, I won’t keep you any longer. Though, make no mistake, tonight you’re mine.”

Cyrus/Cyra:

Looking at the facts, as it turned out, didn’t help in the slightest, not when their feelings for you were so astronomically out of the realm of possibility, something that could never truly be understood or properly identified due to how large it was. They tried to hold onto the simple fact that it hadn’t happened with malicious intent, that everyone was allowed an off day, but that didn’t stop their inner self, their Phoenix, from squawking in protest at not being able to feel their mate.

So when you return, slightly out of breath, they try to pretend like everything’s fine, that their heart hadn’t leapt at the sight of your return, but they couldn’t deny that their inner flame roared back to life at the feel of your lips pressed to theirs; the whispered apology you offer once pulling back being lost in the white noise it causes.

Their reaction may not have been within the realm of reason, at least not when it comes to their usual ones, but when had love ever been?

Quinn:

They huff to themself, looking back down at their haul. It had been a surprise they wanted to gift to you, knowing how stressed you had been with your exams coming up, even fighting down the urge to gag when they bought fresh blood suckers, because you needed something to settle yourself with.

“Oh well,” they mutter, shoulders slightly slumped. “I’ll just put these in their room and hope they’ll be back to enjoy them soon.”

As if summoning you with their mind, you’re suddenly right in front of them, bringing an immediate smile to their lips, before your own cover them. “I’m sorry,” you murmur, pressing another fleeting kiss to their lips. “I’ve been in such a hurry I forgot to give you this.”

The arm around your waist tightens. “It’s well worth the wait.”

Caden:

Like a beacon of light and warmth, you suddenly reappear once more, fighting against the darkness, and the coldness it brings, as you come closer. The apologetic look on your face tells them all they need to know as why you returned and, for the briefest of moments, they feel guilt well within their gut. Had you somehow understood their mood? Were you going to be late now because of them? They’d never wish for you to get in trouble because of them.

However, the moment your lips press gently to their own, those thoughts and feelings slip from their mind completely, only being able to focus on you. At the feeling of completion they now felt slotting into place within their unbeating heart— a feeling that almost made them feel like they were alive once more.

Sloane:

“I completely spaced,” you say, rushing back into the room towards Sloane, eyes wide in apology. “I was in such a rush I forgot to give you a kiss.”

Sloane, for their part, is completely floored that you remembered, that you’d care enough to turn back and rectify a wrong that shouldn’t even be as big of a deal that it was. Of course they would. I’m important to them, it wasn’t done maliciously, you overgrown fur-bag. They barely respond when you place a delicate kiss to their lips, still too embroiled in their thoughts, but their arms flex instinctively when you try to pull away. Just wanting to hold you for a second longer. And, for the moment, they’re able to forget the demons that lurk in the shadows of their mind, not think about them, when in the face of your beautiful light.

Blake:

“I actually forgot to give you a kiss?”

The apologetic look and tone brings a tender smile to Blake’s lips, one finger gently running a path down your cheek. “A mistake I was certain was just that. I mean look at me.” They playfully wriggle their brows, tongue peeking out from between their teeth. “How could you not want to kiss this?”

At your playful eye roll, and exasperated huff, a weight is lifted from their shoulders, even if they’d never showcase it. Good, they think. I don’t like it when you’re sad, and you wouldn’t be. Not if I ever have anything to say about.

Reginald/Regina:

“I’m so sorry.”

Your sudden reappearance near them, after the relative silence that had settled over the dorm, almost causes them to fling their book into the air, a surprised yelp just barely stifled in the back of their throat. At your apologetic gaze, they’re suddenly reminded of what exactly had been forgotten— by the both of you it seems. And, due to that, they lean forward just as you do. Trying to, without words, show how sorry they were for forgetting something so important, something that made them feel a bit more at home in a world that wanted to be anything but.

Something that finally made them feel like they belonged.

#midnight sun #asks #ro: koda kingston #ro: caden randall #ro: blake herrera #ro: quinn grant #ro: r presley #ro: sloane addams #ro: c aurelia #ro: scarlett voltaire #scenario asks

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

Dannymay 2023. Day 7. Weapon. DPXDC.

The Justice League is trying to figure out Danny’s identity, and he’s not happy about it.

~Words hurt more than weapons~

~~~

Wonder Woman: You’re bound by the Lasso of Truth. No more chance of hiding secrets, ghost.

Danny: Are you kidding me?

Batman: Who are you, Phantom?

Danny: "I am a 400-foot tall purple platypus bear with pink horns and silver wings."

Captain Marvel: Wow, you don’t see many Fire Nation princesses these days.

Danny: Hm, at least someone with good taste here.

Danny: Have you even read the Fenton articles? Batman? Anyone? No? Remember. Ghosts will always find a way to lie. Your ribbon has no power over me.

~~~

Danny: ..I have a few words for you too, Batsy. Martha says hi. And she wants you to know that " ..if I see a damn clown in the immediate vicinity of one of my grandchildren or if I find out that you or any of the family are on patrol with broken bones, I’ll spank you as soon as I meet you on the other side. Obey Alfred. With love, Mother."

Flash:..Batman, why are you so pale?

Batman: Someone sprayed the fear toxin. Check the ventilation.

Flash:..

~~~

Superman: Stop it! Listen..

Phantom: I liked you when I was a kid, you know? They say it’s better to never meet your idols. Now I see it's truth.

Superman: You shouldn't be doing this alone. We can help you.

Danny: What makes you think I need your help? Don’t be a hypocrite. Why don’t you take off your glasses at the Daily Planet office? And why do you think that you can tell me what to do with my secret identity?

Danny: Don’t worry, I’m dead but my family is fine. I’m not like you, Big Blue. I will not sacrifice the people I love for my murderous secret.

Superman: What are you talking about?

Phantom: Don’t play dumb. In the land of the dead, people like to talk about the past, you know. You told Jonathan he wasn’t your father, and then you didn’t even try to save him. It’s cruel. But you can be happy, Jonathan doesn’t blame you for his death. I do.

The temperature in the room dropped a few degrees.

Superman: I.. I listened to what he said. He was trying to protect me.

Danny: So, how does it feel? Letting him die in front of you, knowing you could have saved him? Do you blame youself?

Superman: How dare you.

Danny: Of course, you do. Because no matter how many lives Superman saves, the most important one to you..You’ll never got it back. Afraid of being a lab rat? Superman is not special. I am not special too. 

Danny: Don’t look down at me just because you have more experience behind you. Revealing my identity should be my choice, not yours.

~~~~

Danny: Stay out of my grave. *turns to Batman* You should stay away from your son’s grave too. Leave the past behind.

~Hairstyle. Sharp tongue. Physique. This Insolence.~

Batman: Jason?

Danny: Wrong ghost, old man.

Batman: ...You’re the one who said a ghost would always find a way to lie.

Danny: Pride and prejudice! *shit, I’m starting to swear like Mr.Lancer, It’s time to finish my english essay.*  I’m not your Robin. Sorry bout that.

~Jane Austen? No hint more obvious. Jay doesn’t want to deal with the League? Well, Bruce doesn’t mind playing along.~

Batman: I understand.

Danny: Thank Ancients! Anyway, I’m leaving. Don’t look for me.

~~~

Tucker: Wow, Danny, when we told you to take care about the League, we thought you’d do it, like, without turning all of them against you.

Danny: Not all of them. And I didn’t do anything wrong. We talked.

Jazz: Danny, believe me, sometimes a conversation with you can cause more damage to your enemies than your ectoblasts.

Sam: Not just to them. Sometimes I also feel like his ideas are melting my brain.

Danny: Hey! Actually, you should be on my side.

Sam: We should?

Danny: Never mind. But if JL set foot in Amity Park I will sic on Wonder Woman her grandfather.

Tucker: But her Grandfather is Kronos. He’s a creep, trying to eat all his kids. Where do you even know such a monster from?

Clockwork *puts a cup of tea on the table and coughs to attract attention*.

Tucker: Wait a minute...

Tucker: Oh mY GOd, Mr. CLocKWoRk I’m sO SorRy, please don’t kill me.

Sam: Now you’ve changed your mind about importance of a healthy vegan diet, Tucker?

Tucker: ..No, I’m not that desperate.

~~~

~At the same time,somewhere in Ghost Zone~

 Martha *teaches Jason to do a choke hold*.

~~~

~At the same time, in one of Amity Park’s alleys.~

Maddie and Jack *discuss ways to capture the Phantom*

Batman *appears behind them*:DoN’t toUcH my the сHiLd.

~~~

Jazz: Don't you think that mentioning Superman's father was too much?

Danny: Maybe.But..when I think about you, mom or dad in dander I can't imagine what would make me freeze and.. It just doesn't make sense, okey?

Jazz: You're still thinking about Dan, right?

Danny: Every.damn.time.

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dannymay2023 #dannymay #Danny Phantom #dp #clockwork is kronos

[emilykaldwen]

I obviously don't want you to let any cats out of bags if you're planning this for the main fic, but "Please talk to me. I need to hear you." for Abby and Aegon post-Rook's Rest?

So good news: My ass doesn't have anything planned for the Dance quite yet, so we're going into the general canon for this. So Aegon and Abby were in KL, they were crowned, and things continued as they did in canon.

warning: violent pregnancy loss (off-screen), grief, mentions of past violence. ANGSTY

It had been three weeks. Rain patters on the wall of windows facing the sea, the deep blue and green curtains pulled back to let in the watery light of the miserable day. The fire crackles in the great hearth and braziers are lit to keep any chill away from the king. There is still dust lingering along the corners she finds from where Aegon smashed his dead father’s Valyrian model, and how he’d screamed for it to be tossed in a trash heap, for every single shattered piece of it to be hauled away never to be seen again.

Abby thinks of how she decorated the room after their coronation. Once all of the old things - including the bed that the rot of the king had melted into - had been taken out. There were the erotic mosaics still etched in the walls that Aegon enjoyed, as well as a tapestry of her above the fireplace in their bed chamber, the one of Sunfyre above the hearth in the main room. Couches overflowing with soft pillows and blankets, her drawing supplies by the great doors to the balcony. 

Often, the room was filled with flowers - wisteria and roses, her favorite. 

Now it smells of burnt flesh, of medicinal poultices, of milk of the poppy, of her own tears. She sits in the great chair beside the bed, eyes red rimmed. Surely, she’s cried enough to turn the streets of King’s Landing into rivers. Her needle stabs into her fingers, drawing blood but little sound from her. Drops of it dot the white of the blanket she’s embroidering for the baby that will never come.

Not after that terrible night.

Her ribs still ache from the blows, the swelling along her face having gone down that she can at least see out of both her eyes again.

First it was Aegon, furious at what had been done to her, helpless to take away her pain, their pain. Now it is she who is angry and helpless, impotent at his bedside.

Thunder rumbles outside and she tosses her embroidery across the room, the anger in her a muted thing, difficult to feel in the most visceral ways. It hugs her insides, curling through her bones and wrapping around her limbs like mist. The only sound is her wet gasping, the crackle of the fire. Aegon’s own soft wheezing. The left side of his face is burned, the injury skating down the side of his body but thank the Seven, thank the Old Gods, thank them all, that his armor did not fuse into him to be cut away and cause him more pain.

“Come to the Sept,” Alicent had tried to console her. “Come and pray, it will ease you.”

“The only one I’ll ever pray to is my husband,” she had growled, pulling away from her cousin’s hold. “Leave me. Leave me with him. There is nothing left to comfort me while he is like this.”

“Please talk to me,” she whispers, barely audible to her own ears. “Please, I need to hear you.” Her voice cracks. “mo réalta geal, please.”

Please don’t leave me.

Abby stares down at him, her eyes tracking over the planes of his face, the feel of him one that she knows so intimately that she can feel the sensation of his skin against her fingertips - phantom and comforting. Her breath hitches and she bites down on her fist, eyes shutting tight as another wave of pain, of grief, of loss so acute in her empty belly, in her hollow ribs, threatening to drown her as she wept. “Aegon,” she sobs, her voice small, her plea lost in the hiccups as she bows over him, her tangled, limp hair absent of its luster.

She doesn’t know how long she weeps, but long enough that she falls asleep, her head resting on the bed beside where his hand rests, bandaged fingers little comfort but enough. Her face is a mottled mess, red and puffy, her lashes stuck together from her tears. Abby drifts into her dreams, snatches of memories. Of the maester confirming her pregnancy, of the way Aegon whooped and lifted her into his arms, and she thought they would never be happier.

But then the pair of them came, to rob them of their joy, to take her babe away, to take them both from Aegon had Ser Criston and Ser Arryk not gotten to them. But they had each other, and they would get through it, they would survive this horrible attack, they would defend their family and their home.

Until Aegon flew, crashing with Meleys above Rook’s Rest. The Red Queen plummeted to earth, but Sunfyre had survived. Aegon had survived. Somehow. 

Fingers brush against her forehead and she whimpers, rubbing her face into the light blanket and her eyes cracked open.

Aegon’s fingers came into focus as they wriggled, and the rasping, hoarse whisper, “I’m sorry,” crackled in the air. She couldn’t breathe. Abby blinked, her hand trembling as she touched her fingers to his and slowly, as if she’d wake from a dream, she lifted her head to see Aegon’s own, heavy lidded and unfocused. “I left you for so long.”

“Aegon?” Was he real? Was this his voice?

His mouth twitches slightly as he tries to smile at her. “You are so beautiful.” Slurred and crackly, but Aegon all the same. Abby carefully lifts the bandaged hand in hers, kissing him softly as she moves further on the bed. His uninjured hand moves, heavy and slow from disuse, to cup her cheek with a clumsy movement that causes her to wince. “Sorry,” he whispered, fingers gentle. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere…” a sigh, his eyes fluttering. “Found you….. Mine now.”

“Yours,” she promised. “Yours.”

#hotd tag #my fics #aegon ii targaryen #aegon x oc #aegon ii targaryen x oc #aegon ii targaryen fic #oc: abrogail strong #aegon targaryen fic #SERIOUSLY THIS IS THE MOST ANGSTY THING IVE WRITTEN IN AGES #merc tag #you unlocked something in me

[asleep-in-the-keep-sideblog]

Asleep In The Keep: A DP x BNHA fic

Summary: Danny and Aizawa talk and bond

Word count: 3284

Chapter 23: You Hungry?

Danny and the Mummy stood awkwardly in the store. Maybe Danny was the only awkward one, considering that the man not only saw him during a low point, but Danny also thought he was his dad in his haze. Danny sighed, just trying to get it out. Everything would be so much easier if the man didn’t help Danny (he would’ve been fine on his own), now he felt like he owed the man some kind of explanation. 

‘Oh hey, thanks for helping except totally didn’t need it cause I’m already dead, yay!’ and what, would he just say, ‘oh totally cool and normal, have a good day!’ and leave? The ancients wouldn’t be so kind.   

At least he respected Danny’s “no” for a doctor- more than he could say for most of the adults in his life. There still could be something he could do. 

“Uhhh you want something to drink?” Danny pointed his thumb behind him at the counter, which he just noticed was covered in frost. He looked at the man and saw the same frost on his arms. Mummy man followed his eyes, and wiped it off, not letting his facial features betray anything. Danny eyed him suspiciously, but let it go. The guy had been the opposite of a threat so far (but that didn’t mean that he won’t be). Danny had to silence that part of him, he didn’t sense any malicious intent from the man. He was probably still strung up from his little episode earlier. 

Danny walked behind the counter, entering customer service mode. The man followed behind him but at a distance to make Danny comfortable. He appreciated it.  

“I’ll take a black coffee.” Danny eyed him again, but not from suspicion. 

“Are you sure?” He chuckled, “You had to choke it down last time, and I haven’t gotten the best reviews since then.”

“I’m sure. I like your coffee. It’s…” He paused, obviously thinking deeply, “like an old fashioned dark roast.” his face didn’t betray him, so Danny decided to believe it. 

“If you say so,” Danny rolled his eyes and started cleaning up the mess. “uhhh it’s gonna take me a minute to clean everything up, you can just sit down somewhere” he gestured to tables and booths. Fortunately the tables were screwed into the floor, so they were mostly alright. Same could not be said for the chairs. Danny groaned. 

“I got it,” Mummy said, already moving to put the chairs up. There was something casual in the way he said it, like he had known Danny for a while and it was expected. 

He did know Danny was Phantom, right? Like, that was what the whole, “I won’t tell anyone,” was about, yeah? Maybe he just hadn’t seen the news? Or maybe he just didn't care? Regardless, Danny would still keep an eye on him. It wouldn’t make sense for his luck to suddenly turn to gold.

Mummy had gotten a few chairs up when he moved to the door. He flipped the ‘OPEN’ sign to ‘CLOSED’. 

“Thanks,” Danny called out, but his voice felt too sudden, “I probably would’ve forgotten and then someone would come in, which would be hard to explain.” He scratched his neck.

“You’re welcome,” he nodded, “I’m going to shut the blinds as well, you should try to get the power back on.

“What?”

“The power-”

“No, I heard you. What do you mean it's-oh my god!” Danny facepalm. He blew the power out. “Uhhh just stay there.” 

It’s not that Danny trusted the man alone, it was more ‘what more damage could he do?’ than straight trust. He ran out the back to the fuse-box, leaving the door open to see inside. He flipped the switch but the lights remained off. Danny growled in frustration as he kept flipping it on and off, with no results. 

“Work you stupid thing!” He felt a zap from his fingers and all the lights turned on. He yanked his hand away and stared at the box. He can think about that later…

The man was closing the last of the blinds by the time Danny walked in. Danny really needed to learn this guy’s name, especially if he was gonna come here often, which seemed to be the case. Instead of asking, Danny turned around to make the coffee. 

It was quiet in the cafe, save for the sounds of machines and chairs scraping. There was a tense air that floated between the two, something that wouldn’t exist until it was spoken. After all the chairs were set up, the man just sat at the same table he did last time and pretended to look at the wall. They were both in a secret staring contest. 

Danny only wasted 3 cups of coffee until he got one that wasn’t burnt, and walked it over to him. The man took it gingerly, and placed it down, using a napkin as a coaster. He eyed the seat in front of him. 

“How about you take a break?” He said. He tried to make his voice sound smooth but it ended up being more forced, like a kid standing at the front of class. 

“I still have a lot to do before the end of my shift.” Danny wasn’t lying. Although the chairs and machines were cleaned, there was still a lot of debris on the floor. Coffee grinds crunched under his foot with each step he took. 

“You’ve done enough for now, it’s important to take breaks. Otherwise, the people who care about you get worried.” Danny laughed at that. Even when he did have people like that, he would always lie about how much work he was doing to make them feel better. He missed that…

“Do you have people who care about you?” the man asked. 

“Not anymore.” Danny sat down across from him, watching his reaction. He nodded, seemingly excepting that answer. “Does anyone care about you?” The question came off harsher than Danny wanted, but there was a smile in the man’s eyes.

“I do,” His face relaxed slightly and his lip twitched into an almost a smile, “I have a husband and a very good friend.” he rubbed his ring, and it clanked on the side of his cup. Danny didn’t say anything in response. 

“Do you have a place you’re staying at? Somewhere safe?” Concern leaked into every word. He seemed to be genuine, but it was clear he was hiding something, adults always were. Kids' motivations were easier to understand, especially when they wore their heart on their sleeve like Deku. Adults always wanted something or had an angle. 

“Yes. I’m safe.” That is all that he would give him. 

“That’s good,” The man watched him and Danny felt studied. He became violently aware that he was still in his ghost form (his true form). He never felt self conscious of it before. In Amity, when they saw Phantom, they just saw the persona, not Danny (except the few who knew). The man in front of him saw Danny completely. It felt violating, like a stranger reading his diary. 

Danny closed his eyes and pictured his human self, the life he lived before and was owed. Tingles like limbs falling asleep traveled down his body. When he opened his eyes, the man’s mouth in front of him was open. 

Danny shrugged, trying to make it seem like a smaller deal. He had forgotten that people don’t usually show their quirks off in public. He may have just crossed a social norm and made him uncomfortable. 

Good, the bitter teenager side of him said. He didn’t know this man enough to care. 

Zzz

Tommy replaced Phantom in front of him. Shouta tried to suppress the shock on his face, but honestly how do you react to something like that? It looked like his face was melting off, only to have another face underneath the goo. At least now he knew how Phantom turned into Tommy. Phantom glared at him in a way only teenagers are able. Shouta shut his mouth and took a sip of coffee. He gagged slightly as the flavor hit his tongue. It tasted like spoiled burnt rubber, a slight improvement from last time. Fortunately he was better at hiding his disgust this time since Phantom stopped glaring. 

“So,” Shouta wasn’t sure what to say, “Is that a quirk of yours?” He pretended to take another sip of coffee, his eyes scanning the teen over the brim of the cup. 

“Yes.” He answered curtly. Shouta didn’t know if the boy was being honest or not, but he had to take it for what it was. If it was true, maybe his quirk was similar to Ectoplasm’s, both being able to manipulate the unique matter. In Ectoplasm’s case, he could only make clones while some of Phantom’s body seemed to be made of it. That would line up with what was said in the reports, at least with the fight last night. 

The list of his quirks were so far; ice/cold manipulation and flight, both seen in the Nomu incident. Intangibility, witnessed by Fat Gum. Perhaps some form of invisibility, as detailed in the report when he disappeared. Although the last two may be limited since he doesn’t seem to be using them more. And then as he witnessed today, electrification, similar to Kaminari’s except that it doesn't affect his cognition. That could either be because he’s trained with it more or it's a different strand. And finally, ectoplasm. It was suspected Phantom also had some kind of regeneration quirk based on the reports when Stain cut him, but that could be explained by the ectoplasm. It could be that his base quirk was the ectoplasm since it's a mutation type quirk, and those can't be manipulated, then everything else was jammed in later. The source of his glowing was unknown since Ectoplasm’s quirk didn't seem to do that. He could very possibly have more powers that no one has witnessed yet. All in all, he had almost every power from a ghost, just rammed up to 11. 

Shouta could feel a headache coming on. 

“You hungry?” Shouta said, partly to distract himself, and partly for the boy’s sake. Using energy based powers, regardless of what they were, took a toll on the body. He was surprised the boy hadn’t blacked out yet. Possible result of quirk endurance training by All For One.

“I’m fine.” At least he was answering Shouta’s questions. At any point, Phantom could get up or kick Shouta out, and yet they both still sit together. There must be some part of him, however deep, that must want help. 

“Are you sure, kid?” Shouta eyed him skeptically, “You just used your quirk a lot, you must be feeling exhausted.” On the outside, it almost looked like a quirk awakening. However, based on how causally Phantom was reacting, it must’ve been a common occurrence. That line of thought only brought up painful possibilities. 

“What are you, my mom?” Although the kid sounded playful, he was starting to look uncomfortable at Shouta’s questioning. Shouta could understand that. As a teenager, he was annoyed when people asked about his well being. He wasn’t used to it. It felt like they only pretended to care, or that he was being talked down to like a child. How could he get Phantom to understand that he meant it?

“For right now, yes.” He responded dryly. Phantom rolled his eyes at that, which mitigated the tension. Shouta let a small smile travel across his face, but it only lasted a second. “I can pay for it if that’s the issue?” He intentionally didn’t let pity into his tone, in case Phantom might react negatively to it. 

“No, it’s not that, uhhh,” Phantom started playing with his gloves again, “I have a…special diet?” He sounded unsure. 

Shouta signed, “Alright.” It could be true, or it could be a lie, the result was the same. 

“Let me grab something,” Phantom got up, but before he ran off he asked, “You like tuna?” Shouta just nodded, and with that Phantom disappeared behind the counter. 

Shouta went back to focusing on his coffee. It was half gone, but even that didn’t ease him. His tongue was numb as a trauma response. It made what he was about to do a little easier. He rose it to his lips, and gulped down the rest. Although he couldn’t taste it, he could still feel it slide down his throat. He shivered. 

Phantom returned before long. In one hand, he held a plate, balanced on his palm like they do at a fine dining restaurant, in the other, he limply help onto a metal cylinder. He placed the plate onto the table but kept the cylinder on his lap.

“What’s that?” Shouta asked, glancing at the chunk of metal.

“A tuna wrap. Why? Never seen one before?” Phantom cocked his eyebrow playfully at Shouta. He leaned back in his chair, “That was the only sandwich left, so you have to eat it.” 

The kid obviously knew what he meant but was ignoring him on purpose it. Shouta wasn’t gonna get any answers by asking again, so instead, decided to quietly eat the wrap. Phantom was bobbing his head and body while rhombically humming, clearly thinking about something. He would occasionally glance over at Shouta, then look away. Shouta just ignored him. Teenagers were like cats; if they knew you wanted their attention, they wouldn’t give it to you. It had to be on their terms. 

Seconds ticked like minutes as Shouta just sat and ate. It wasn’t uncomfortable, Shouta actually enjoyed quiet meals (or where Hizashi would talk and he would listen), but there was some sort of anticipation between then, like winding up a jack-in-the-box. 

Phantom decided to act. He placed the mysterious cylinder on the table and started fiddling with something. The cylinder looked to be made of meddled together scrap metal with a few dents on the side. It looked old too, what clearly was once a silver color clouded over time and looked like iron. There were a few patches of color, neon green and black ascended the weird object. The green was a similar color to Phantom’s eyes, or at least in his true-form. Now he sported a more human blue with a slight green ring around the pupil. 

It was interesting, although he was clearly looking at the boy, he wasn’t able to imagine him in his other form. If it wasn’t for the weird vibe he gave off or the white streak in his hair, Shoua wasn’t sure he would be able to pick Phantom out in a line up. Some type of hypnosis quirk? No that wouldn’t make sense. In the reports, witness weren’t able to describe him consistantly, even from far away. He would also have to be constantly emitting it, even if he didn’t think people were around. Perhaps it had to due with why he glowed? There were studies about different types of light affecting your brain, that could have something to do with it. Shouta looked at Phantoms face, studying every feature he could. Phantom was still wrapped up in whatever he was doing to notice. Shouta closed his eyes and concentrated on that visual, but it faded away like a blurry after-image. But Phantom wasn’t glowing anymore. Could it be that you only need to see it once to affect you? No wait- 

Shouta looked closer at the boy. There was a slight sheen to him, around his outline and especially his eyes. He still glowed, it was just softer now, like a glowstick in a lite room. Is that intentional, or just a result of overloading his quirk earlier? No, it seemed to be intentional. The glow vanished as soon as he changed forms. It could be he uses a less powerful light since he doesn’t need to worry as much about being recognized as “Tommy” than Phantom. It could also help conserve his energy. Smart kid…

There were a few beeps across the table and Phantom smiled. It was too wide and full of teeth. Strangely, it fit the boy in front of him. 

“I just had to charge it up a little and, voilà~”  The thing whirled to life, lighting up a few buttons in odd places. “This thing hasn’t been charged since, I don’t know, since I woke up?” he shrugged, but his eyes were giddy with excitement. Phantom was talking as if it had been years, rather than the few hours between then and now. “It worked earlier, but I think that was because of the radiat- anyway” He laughed. 

What was he gonna say? Before the question could escape his lips, Phantom hit another button and a loud ‘pop’ sounded out, surprising Shouta, and the top part of it opened. Phantom peered into it with one eye and swished it around. It glowed slightly, but Shouta wasn’t sure if it was from the device or the stuff inside. Without wasting another second, Phantom raised it to his lips and chugged it. 

“Is that…a thermos?” Shouta was gobsmacked and just watched with an open mouth as the boy kept chugging. It seemed too impractical for everyday use, not if you had to do that everytime. Well, Phantom did say he has a ‘special diet’, maybe it had to be kept at a certain temperature? And all those buttons could be a security measure. 

There were a few raids on abandoned warehouses and underground bunkers. They were believed to belong to All For One, and in them were found vats of a green liquid holding Nomu’s in different stages of development. Only 3 were recovered for testing. Perhaps the thermos held that same fluid to keep Phantom stable with so many quirks. How much more does he have left? 

After a few gulps of, whatever that was, the color returned to Phantom’s cheeks. Whether that be an indication of his health or quirk power was anyone’s guess. It could’ve been both if what Shouta thought was true. 

“Are you sure you don’t need any help?” Shouta couldn’t help the concern leaking into his voice. Phantom just looked at him, wiping some green goo of his face like it was a milkshake. 

“I already told you, I’m fine.” Phantom’s body was immediately tense. How many people had hurt him for him to be so distrustful? “I can take care of myself.” He sat straighter and there was a look of determination in his eyes. 

“I know you can.” The boy had already come this far after all, “But you can’t do everything alone.” Shouta slowly reached into his pocket for his card, watching Phantom. The boy seem to almost unravel and his form changed again- not to  his true form, but a mix between the two. His hair becoming more wispy, like smoke and his sclera turned an inky black but his pupils kept a touch of blue. He vibrated in his seat. It was like he was trying to hold it in. 

Shouta took his hand out of his pocket, showing nothing was in it. 

“I think I should go,” Shouta slowly stood up, careful to keep his body langue open and readable to show he wasn’t a threat. Phantom was still sat down, looking at Shouta like a feral animal. He looked so scared in that moment. 

“I really do want to help,” But he couldn’t help him like this, he couldn’t force him to accept it. 

★

“I know you do,” Danny said to an empty room.

But the man wasn't there.

#danny phantom #dp #danny fenton #dp fic #dp cross #dp crossover #dp x bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #bnha #asleep in the keep #aizawa #mha aizawa #bnha aizawa #aizawa shouta #minor angst