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cherrychilli · 28 days ago

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18+ Eddie Munson x f! reader, neighbor! reader, friends to lovers, use of sex toy, chastity belt, mentions of virginity, sexual scenarios, implied PIV, implied loss of virginity WC:2.5K

Summary: What happens when you head over next door to seek your neighbor's help with a very intimate and unusual problem? a whole lot of repressed feelings are finally shared. And there's sex stuff too, duh.

Extended ending

It's the kind of decision that you didn't arrive at easily. Quite frankly, you feel you'd much rather down a cup of iron nails and let them shred your body from the inside on the way down, but that wouldn't fix your problem.

No, you were utterly fucked and you desperately needed help.

So, with one shaky step after the other, you approach your neighbor's trailer, stepping up to the door and realizing this is the closest you've been to it in a long time.

The temperature's perfectly balmy outside. Most folks have their laundry hung out, gently flapping in the wind but everything inside you is frigid cold. It takes you a couple of minutes to thaw your frozen limbs on his doorstep, raising your hand and rolling your fingers into a loose fist before tapping your knuckles against the door thrice.

Seconds pass and before you can attempt to knock again you hear some kind of commotion deeper inside the trailer, a bunch of dull thuds sounding out before you pick up on the sound of footsteps approaching.

You take a quick step back, pulling your ear away from the door and you weave your fingers together, holding them tightly down the front of your skirt.

No going back now.

When Eddie Munson pulls open the door in his sweats and a wrinkled band tee he's obviously pulled on in a hurry, everything starts to feel way too real for your liking.

You figure he must have been lounging in his underwear again. You know this because his curtains don't close all the way, leading to you catching glimpses of his bare chest and stomach from your own bedroom. Not that you ever meant to look. No, not at all.

"Uh hi, Eddie", you manage to string a few words together, your tongue feeling like you've barely got any control over it at all with the way it feels so limp and cotton dry in your mouth.

He doesn't answer, looking at you curiously and you worry if it's because he doesn't recall you despite the both of you having grown up in the trailer park and attending the same school. You ran in different circles sure, but you always made sure to say hi and wave politely at your neighbor whenever you saw him, even after you began to see less of him when you made it into College and he is yet to be awarded the high school diploma that keeps evading him.

"Oh I'm-"

"I know", he cuts you off. Abrupt but not rude.

"Right, so I came by because...well, I need your help."

He squints his eyes at you this time, almost like he's trying to solve a puzzle in his head.

"Didn't take you for the reefer type", his lips slant into a half smile, the dimple on his right cheek drawing your attention.

"What? Oh no, that's not why I came over" you quickly correct him though you can't blame him for thinking so. Everyone knows the grass is greenest at the Munson trailer, so to speak, and with the two of you not exactly being the closest of friends, you can't fault him for making the assumption.

"So, how can I help you then?"

"Actually it's kind of a delicate topic. Can I come in? I promise I can explain."

Come in?

And for reasons other than to score some drugs?

Eddie would never admit it out loud but no other girl has ever asked this of him before and he hopes it doesn't show because he's absolutely stumped, not really knowing how to react.

It's when he can't help but crumble under the weight of your doe eyes that he pulls the door open enough for you to squeeze by him with the sweetest smile on your lips. Turning you away, not that he'd want to, but the thought of turning you away felt much too akin to kicking a baby bunny.

You see the couch and you step over to it, your eyes wandering all over the trailer on your way. It's a little chaotic sure but you spy some order here and there, intrigued by the row of hats and mugs displayed neatly on the wall, wondering how long it must have taken them to amass the whole collection.

"So, you were saying that you need my help?"

You turn around, nearly colliding with the little Garfield mug he holds out to you. "Oh, thank you", you take it, looking inside to see a fizzy circle of grape soda inside bubbling back at you.

"Seen you having it at school a few times", he let's you know before you have a chance to ask him how he knew about your favorite drink.

Guess you weren't the only one occasionally sneaking a peek from a distance.

"Wow, that's so thoughtful", you smile at him again, noticing the way his cheeks pink up when he averts his eyes with a grunt to clear his throat.

"Yeah, don't worry about it."

You have a few sips as you sit down on the couch, sinking into the cushion. Now that you're inside, that sickening feeling slithers inside your body again and you start to go cold like before, placing the mug down on the table carefully, looking Eddie in the eye while he stands opposite you.

You gulp hard. "The reason I came over is because I did something...I did something really stupid and I need someone to help me who'll also be discreet about it. Please, Eddie. You have to promise me you won't tell."

Seeing you practically begging, seeing the way you look up at him like he's the only one who can help, like he's the only one you want to help you hits him right in the chest. And a little below the waistband of his sweats too but he files that thought away for later.

As much as he wants to say yes he needs to know more.

"Listen if you're in some kind of trouble or if you're-"

"No no it's nothing like that!"

"Okay, but I need to know what it is that I'm saying yes to."

That's reasonable. Entirely reasonable but your face falls into your open palms. You wish you could scream into them than have to bear the embarrassment you're about to cause yourself.

"Okay okay", you spring up onto your feet before you lose your nerve, standing right in front of him with your forehead nearly brushing his chin. "I need your help getting this off."

Quickly, you pull up your skirt to let him see what's underneath, his wide, terrified eyes flicking to and away from between your legs, not sure if he should actually be looking there despite you voluntarily baring yourself to him.

It's not everyday that a pretty girl comes by to flash him in the comfort of his own home.

When Eddie does manage to settle down somewhat he looks closer, taking in the thick black leather straps wrapped around you, studded with silver accents and your white cotton panties underneath which show through a cut out in the shape of a heart right above your mound.

"Please. I lost the key and I can't get the damn thing off. I've seen you working on your van with your tools. There must be something in there that you can use, right?"

Eddie's head is spinning, unable to stop focusing on your crotch and what he recognizes as a chastity belt from one of those BDSM magazines hidden under his bed wrapped around you.

"Why did you-"

You sigh. "I was checking to see if it fit because I wanted to wear it for someone I was dating", you admit with some disdain.

Eddie knows exactly who, sharing in your disdain.

"Danny Vaugh", Eddie says with a clear note of contempt, his tongue turning sour at the mention of his name. Skeezy little fucker who liked to test his luck by getting behind the wheel after a couple of beers and making out with a different girl at every party whether he had a girlfriend of his own waiting for him or not.

Eddie doesn't know what you ever saw in him, if at all.

"Right", you sigh, the regret clouding your whole face and with it, whatever feelings of embarrassment or shame are forced out, no longer afraid to just tell Eddie the truth.

"Yeah, well he dumped me. I wasn't ready to have sex and he was sick of dating a virgin." Watching the hurt register on your face made Eddie want nothing more than to introduce Danny to his ring clad fist. Repeatedly.

"So I saw this thing online and I don't know... a part of me thought he'd be into it? give him the key and let him finally have me or whatever. But a little while ago I heard that he's already moved on. With some girl in the same class as me too...that's so like him. And I've been locked in this fucking thing for the last three and a half hours. Please, I really need it off."

"That's... wow", he blinks, stunned. Not usually one to be at a loss for words but this was wild even for him.

"Yeah, so can you help me or not?"

You never would have thought you'd be in this position. Your skirt off while you sit down on the edge of Eddie Munson's bed, your legs spread for him as he kneels between them, trying his best to figure out which angle to tackle this problem from.

He's got a tool box to his left, all manner and sorts stored inside. Some of them you recognize and most of them you don't.

"Alright, so I think the best way would be to get this padlock off", he taps the heart shaped cut out and you feel it right on your mound. It's worse for him because this close it's hard for Eddie to remain professional when he can see your pussy clenching underneath the thin cotton barrier of your panties.

"So, what are you gonna use?" you ask him, throat scratchy and nervous when you eye a hammer and the sharp teeth of a saw laying among the tools.

"Don't worry. Got just the thing."

His hand dips into the tool box, sorting through it for nearly a minute.

"Got it", he smiles, pulling out something you hadn't anticipated.

"A safety pin?", you ask, confused.

Eddie chuckles at your reaction, his hands already on the padlock on your hip.

"Gonna pick it. Don't worry, I've done this a thousand times", he assures you. He bends the pin out of it's usual shape, twisting and pulling until he seems satisfied with the end result. Carefully, he inserts the sharp end of the pin inside the keyhole on the lock, fiddling with it this way and that.

"Pretty cool you know how to do this stuff", you tell him sincerely, relieved he didn't opt to cut or hammer you out of the belt.

The praise goes straight to his blushing cheeks. He's so used to people passing judgement on him for knowing these kinds of things, thinking of him as some kind of irredeemable good for nothing with the skillset of a petty thief. Just like his father.

You don't think that of him though. He knows it by the way you treat him but with how nice you're being it's almost hard for Eddie to keep focus.

This whole situation reminds him of the kinds of things that only happened in the pages of his graphic novels. Blood drenched Knights slaying vicious dragons to save beautiful princesses who've been locked away. Princesses who liked to show their appreciation in a certain kind of way. Princesses who've never lain with anyone before, though that was about to change now that they've found someone honorable and worthy, eagerly offering themselves to their knights.

And here's one just perched on his bed, looking so captivated by the way he's trying to save you. Not that you were offering yourself to him, he reminded himself bleakly.

But the fantasy still lingered in his mind because that's all he ever had.

A little more of turning the pin this way and that and there's a click that gets the lock to pop open at last, earning a deep sigh of relief out of you.

Setting the pin aside, Eddie helps to take the chastity belt off of you, pulling the leather down and off over your feet, taking in the marks left behind on your skin in the shape of the dark leather.

He goes to return your skirt too but you take it from him and place it aside, in no hurry to dress yourself.

"I've spent an hour with you and you've already treated me better than Danny ever did."

A 'told you so' sits on the tip of his tongue but he doesn't let it go past his teeth. So he doesn't quite know what to say to that instead, blinking back at you with a little smile.

"You know, I regret not getting to know you better", you tell him and he can hear the sadness gripping your throat like phantom fingers bearing down on your windpipe.

"You didn't miss anything", he chuckles just to be nice. Anything to keep you from looking sad again.

You shake your head. "I mean it. If I knew you better I would have never bothered with people like Danny...'only let him take me out because I was lonely. Thought I couldn't do better than him and I settled", you admit it out loud for the very first time.

It feels wonderfully cathartic to let these thoughts spill out like you're purging all the poison that filled your belly. Every little lie you swallowed down, all the times you tried to convince yourself that you were happy with Danny now being forced out of your system, no longer clogging your mind and veins.

The admission makes Eddie gawk at you in pure disbelief. "I'm sorry, you thought you weren't good enough? please tell me you're joking."

It's your turn to chuckle this time.

"I don't know, I just never hit it off with any one before."

'Until now', you wanted to add as you bite your lip.

"Yeah well it's their loss", he mutters, closing up his tool box and shoving it aside.

"Hey, Eddie?"

He looks up at you again. "Yeah?"

Slowly, you spread your legs wider, drawing him closer until your knees frame his shoulders.

"You missed one", you lower your hand down to your underwear, pinching the waistband between your fingers and letting it snap back in place against your skin.

He nearly keels over when he notices the soft cushion of your bush peaking through.

"You want me to take it off?", he croaks like a helpless toad, fingers all twitchy with excitement.

"Could you?", you tip your head to the side and ask sweetly, a picture of innocence though you both know that's not entirely the case.

"Yeah, I can do that."

You lift your lower body off the bed to help him, watching carefully as he drags your panties down your thighs, over the curve of your calves and off your feet so he can pocket them for later.

"Fucking Christ you're beautiful", he lets out in awe.

"Bet you say that to all the girls", you giggle back.

"Nope. Not like this."

He's quite serious. You can feel it in the way he looks at you. Unlike the devil worshipper that they all claim he is, he kneels between your feet like he might at an altar.

Praying to you. Praying for you.

"Go on. Touch me", you grant him permission.

Eddie gladly but carefully pulls your pussy folds apart, one thumb pressing against your quivering hole which he watches clenching open and closed open and closed. It's so small, the opening. How was he going to fit anything inside you let alone his cock? He supposed he'd have to take his time and work you open, the thought making his skin buzz excitedly like static.

And his other thumb gently pulls up the hood to reveal your clit, this glossy little bead that makes his mouth water at the thought of sucking on it till he makes you gush all over his tongue. He can't help but get the impression that the poor thing's been neglected until now. That clown Danny definitely hadn't found it. And he never would have, not even with both hands and a map.

"Want you to show me how good it feels", you tell him, working your right foot between his legs to gently rub it along the ridge of his clothed erection.

An hour ago you were neighbors reacquainting with each other. Now, he's helped you through one of your worst moments, and you stayed, not only wanting to reward him for it but also because despite how spontaneous this all was, you finally feel ready.

Eddie notices the shift in you too, a sly smile pulling at his lips but his eyes remain gentle, "Oh, I'll show you so much more than that, I promise."

Extended ending

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson #stranger things smut #stranger things #eddie munson x reader

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dcxdpdabbles · 2 months ago

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I love love all your writings!!

I like your depictions of John Constantine.

I'd like to see you write the sad trenchcoat persona as just that a persona in the same fashion as how Brucie Wayne is a persona.

Maybe he's been the de-aged Danny/Dannies father for years and is an actual functional adult. The sad trenchcoat is just used to keep people from calling on him to frequently because he's a dad and has dad-like things to do.

He could help tim with the time stream thing, like 'oh, yeah that does look like Bruce. Alright kid pack a bag we're going in the time stream I know a guy. No Nightwing I'm not joking this looks like solid proof'.

Maybe Bruce has a oh shit he's actually competent and could kill me, that's hot moment. (Kids I have found your other father, help me get him home)

"I would love to offer more of my time to waste on monitor duty, but I have a previous engagement. A particular fit lady needs help getting her dress on the floor. The cloth always gets stuck on her horns. " John leers, wagging his eyebrows at the grimaces his words cause.

He takes a puff of his cigarette, inhaling the smoke like a drowning man. He never smokes at home, not with Danny's sensitive lungs or Dani's general disgust at smoking, so he only had the chance when called away on missions.

Plus, Danny was trying out for ballet soon, and he wasn't going to ruin his son's chances of being a star because of his own poor habits.

It helped that the rest of the heroes believed he was consistently pumping nicotine into his system. Rather irresponsible for the hero to publicly commit frowned-upon activities - at least in the States. Back home, no one cared that much.

It didn't matter that the Justice League was a global team; the main hard hitters and founders were nearly all American, and they tended to uphold those social expectations, either subconsciously or not.

One more reason why they shouldn't bother John, he can't have him smoking at a big awards ceremony or seen going through an entire pack of cigarettes mid-fight. Oh no.

John Constantine was one of the best magic users of this universe, but he was a last resort. There were plenty of other magic users like Zatanna, Dr. Fate, Zatara, or even Etrigan that came to mind first.

John was likely too busy drowning his misery in bottles or the arms of any willing partner. That's what they all thought.

Or more importantly than what he wanted them to think.

"Well, this has been a time." He announces, snapping his fingers to open a portal to his house. "But I have to run. My lady needs a knowledgeable hand to help her-"

"Enough," Batman growls. Though he has complete control over his emotions, John can tell he's irritated by the meaningless detail. He smirks as the hero waves a hand, "Just go."

He offers the rest of the meeting room a cheeky two-finger salute as he struts out, letting the portal close behind him so his trench coat flares dramatically. It's a nice view, he's sure, but it's also unnecessarily showy, and he is sure at least three pairs of eyes are rolling at his exit.

A chuckle escapes his mouth, straightening from his slouch to properly stand straight and bend it far enough to pop. Goodness, his act always leaves him with a sore upper back; maybe he shouldn't hunch over so much, even if he was playing the part of a no-good punk.

John only had a few seconds to shiver at his own thoughts- he was a punk. A real one! He was in a band!- before he heard the tell-tell sign of a rapidly approaching double set of footsteps echo down the hall. He scrambles to fling his lit cigarette into a water portal, chucking the pack for double security, while summoning a random suitcase from thin air.

All that's left is his rather eye-catching coat, a little too worn down and old to work well with his well-put-together outfit underneath. Without it, John has a clean, pressed white shirt, a respectful tie, and a pair of slacks that make more than one head turn as he walks.

All in all, he looks like the office businessman his worthless father always wanted to be.

John throws off his coat over a chair at the same time the door is thrown open with a pair of excited yells. "Welcome home, Dad!"

A grin stretched across his face before he could think about it, feeling his heart swell at the sight of them, as he knelt down, arms open wide. Two tiny bodies slam into him without a second of hesitation, nearly knocking John backwards.

He lets out a soft grunt as Dani's arms attempt to wrap around his left arm and right shoulder. She clashes against Danny, who's trying to bury himself into John's right side, little face squished against one of John's pecs, like a bunny burrowing into the snow.

"Hello, my little lambs!" He gushes, squeezing the kids close. "How was your day with the House of Mystery? Did you two behave?"

"They were angels," Black Orchid confirms, gliding into the room at a much slower pace. They had their regular, impassive expression on their faces, but John could tell that Orchid was happy with the kids by the way they gently tapped the tops of the children's black hair.

"Dad! Dad! Now that you're home, can we please go get my new ballet shoes?" Danny begs, bouncing on his toes.

For a moment, John doesn't see his son, but rather his own blue eyes staring up at his father, when he was also five, begging to join Lily, the next-door neighbor, in beginners' ballet class.

His father had beaten him nearly to death for wanting such a girly interest. It was the last time they spoke about it. It was also the last time John ever bothered asking to start new hobbies.

"Dad! Dad! Can I do Karate?" Dani asks then, snapping John from his memories better left buried, as she presses her check against her brother's in an attempt to get John's attention. "I want to break a board with my fist!"

He gives the children another squeeze, laughing at the squeals he gets. "Of course you can do karate, little lamb. We're going to get your brother his shoes, and then I'll find a gym that offers the classes at the same time."

"I already provided that service." Orchid cuts in, holding a flyer for Flying Graysons' gym, founded and run by the eldest Wayne in Gotham. "I took the liberty of signing Danny up for a class with Casnadra Wayne, and Dani will join Duke Thomas's class. It starts in a week."

"Plenty of time to go get them everything they need and a new book series for our bedtime stories," John announces, loosening his arms so his children can cheer and bounce up and down in excitement. His knee is starting to cramp up, but he ignores it so he can hold his kids.

It's moments like these, so small and mundane, that John is grateful he thought of his persona. When he first learned how to use the magic he was gifted, he always made himself available for any crisis.

This was before the Justice League days, so anyone who sought him out was familiar with the occult world. He adored helping, and he built an incredible amount of skill and knowledge in magic, but soon John was facing disaster after disaster, dragging his exhausted body from one place to another.

Those who came searching for him never cared. They wanted John to jump at the drop of a hat. He tried for years to always be ready, always be willing, but years of isolation and desperate battles tried him to the core.

Then he took in Danny and Dani, finding the pair of babies in a basket at the feet of the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep. He had gone to investigate the legends of the famous King Pariah Dark, only to find what he assumed were originally sacrifices, well and truly alive.

Their names were attached to their feet with a letter written by a Jazz Fenton begging the two to grow and live well. She had died to save them. In her honor, John kept their names.

Daniel "Danny" Fenton and Danielle "Dani" Fenton. He often wondered what Jazz had been to the kids, with their identical last names. It is a question he will never get the answer to.

They could have been no older than five months, but when they opened their eyes and reached up for him, John realized he no longer wanted to be the go-to man of magic.

He wanted to be their father.

To discourage people from calling him away from his children, John created his persona of a man barely honorable enough to join a team. Over the five years of his raising his kids, his reputation plummeted until only Batman called to him unless absolutely necessary.

It was a breath of fresh air. John had fought for too long and too hard. He was retired now, just like his band days, the days when John would speed off to save the world were behind him. He only stepped in if a friend asked for a favor.

He had other priorities now.

The best part? The Justice League would never know that.

"Dad!" Dani screamed into his ear, making him grimace.

"Inside voice, darling."

"Sorry." She twirls her fingers, a nervous habit she picked up from John, before brightening up "I'm just super excited. Orichad said Mr. Bruce Wayne will be at the gym! Do you think he'll sign my Wayne Space shirt?"

Ah, yes, the man who was funding some space program or another. He only knew about this because his twins adored anything to do with space travel, as if though he couldn't just teleport them to a different planet.

"I'm sure he will, darling."

#dcxdpdabbles #dcxdp crossover #John's Mask #Part 1 #John Constantine/Bruce Wayne #Danny and Dani are deaged #Five years old #Jazz died getting them out #They don't have any memories of their old life #John is a burnt out magic man who just wants to dad #He's got a whole bad image to uphold #Black Orchid from animiated moive Justice League Dark

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shadowuponstorm · 5 months ago

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He is Nothing Like You

Tim and Reader have been secretly married for three years, which has done them good, considering the risks of Tim's occupation. One day, while Tim was on shift, he never expected his secrets to start ripping at the seams and spill onto the floor.

MDNI 18+ since it involves sexual activities! I might do a second part

"I've been meaning to ask you, what's the ring around your neck?" Lucy asks, trying to break the silence in the shop.

"Not that it's any of your business, but it's just a ring to me, no specific meaning," Tim responds while silently praying Lucy would end the conversation there, "Also it's safer if it's around my neck than on my finger."

"Grey wears his wedding band, and you don't see him having any trouble with it," Lucy mentions as Tim chuckles and reminds her that Luna would kill him if he ever took his ring off.

"Just let it go and focus on other important things, like that carjacker right there," Tim said, causing Lucy to jerk her attention back in front of her as he stopped the shop and the both of them get to work.

Once the carjacker was booked and processed, Tim and Lucy were on their way to get back on the road when Grey stopped them with a, "Bradford, my office real quick."

Lucy asks, "What is that all about?" Tim responds, "I don't know, just wait by the shop. I'll be there when I'm finished."

Tim enters Grey's office to see his wife, Y/N, sitting in one of the chairs. "She doesn't look pleased about something," Tim thought to himself before Grey excused himself to let the couple talk privately.

-Y/N's POV-

"Is everything okay?" Tim asked me while I got up from the seat to stand in front of him before I ask him, "Do you remember telling me when we first started dating that your dad died?"

Tim gulps before clearing his throat and answered, "Yes, why are you bringing that up?"

"I was cleaning the house up when the phone rang. It was a hospice nurse calling for you because Tom Bradford was asking for you," I responded before continuing, “Thinking it was the wrong number, I called Genny to ask her what was happening. She told me I needed to have that conversation with you."

Before Tim could answer me, Grey popped his head in to remind Tim about an old case regarding a family friend, Monica Ochoa.

"Do you need to go? I'm not mad. I'm just so confused," I said before Tim turned his head towards Grey and told him he was still on it before turning his attention back to me.

"I'll explain it later, I promise," Tim responds before I nod. Understanding his tone's urgency, I told him I'd be waiting with Kojo at home.

Hours passed before I heard the doorknob jiggle; Kojo had heard it since he had jumped off the couch to run to the door and greet Tim.

"Hey bud," I hear Tim say as his footsteps start toward the living room, bringing him into view.

"Hi," I say as Tim takes a seat next to me before he takes my hands in his.

"I haven't been honest with you about everything, and I am truly sorry. It wasn't fair of me to let you get whiplash from finding out I lied about my dad being dead," Tim responds as I notice tears brimming in his eyes, making me take my hands back and put one of them on his cheek, running my thumb along the bone.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. I meant what I said. I'm not mad at you," I whisper, reassuring him before he sighs and responds, "I know, but it still wasn't right of me. So, I want to tell you everything."

"Okay," I say as Tim clears his throat to mention, "The reason I told you he was dead is because he's dead to me. He was abusive. To me and Genny, mostly me."

Before I can ask, he says, "When I was 7, he smashed my head into a wall. Another time, he left me at Griffith Park with only a compass to find my way home, said it's supposed to turn me into a man."

"Tim," I croak out before tears started to fall down my cheeks, "Now I feel bad that you had to reopen those wounds."

"No, no, don't you dare blame yourself," Tim said as he wiped the tears before continuing, "I should've been honest from the get-go, but instead, I wanted to keep that part of my past secret to spare you from the pain. And it was about time I told you since I have to see him."

"You don't need to see him if you don't want to. Don't let this hospice situation guilt you," I respond before Tim shook his head and told me it had to do with the Ochoa case.

"I think he had something to do with it; now I have to face him," Tim says, looking like the little boy who just wanted his dad's love, which prompts me to ask, "Want me to come with you?"

"No, you don't have to. I wouldn't force you," Tim started to say before I cut him off, "I want to. You're my husband, and my vows stated that I will be by your side for every obstacle in your path."

"Okay," Tim whispered as the both of us exited the house hand in hand, preparing to battle this demon together.

We arrived at the facility and entered the room to see my father-in-law lying in his hospital bed.

"Oh, man. Never thought I'd see your face again. Genny tell you to visit?" Tom says as I squeeze Tim's hand harder in comfort.

"Wow, liver really did a number on you, old man," Tim responds before Tom tells him he doesn't have it so bad.

"Nurses here all love me. It's just no one will bring me that shot of Patron I keep asking for," Tom says as he jesters toward the apple juice, saying it's a joke.

"A cruel joke if you ask me," I thought before glancing at Tim's face to see he thinks the same.

"You always seem to have someone looking after you, even when you don't deserve it," Tim responds, squeezing back my hand.

"Something on your mind, son?" Tom asked, clearly wanting this to be done and over with.

"Remember Frank Ochoa? Lived down the street. Shot to death 25 years ago. Well, I'm sure you remember his wife, Monica," Tim responds.

"Can't say I do," Tom deflects, obvious sign that he does remember.

"Come on. You were sleeping with her behind Mom's back," Tim says, making Tom laugh, and he asks where he got that from. Tim mentions that he saw the two of them together when he was 13.

"Oh, crap," Tom says before Tim continues, "For some reason that I still don't understand, I lied for you, lied to Mom."

"Poor little Tim-Tim," Tom degrades before spouting out, "What are you bitching about? You kept your mouth shut. You did good. Now get over it."

I feel my blood start to boil in anger at the audacity, the disrespect this son of a bitch in front of me had for the man I plan to spend forever with and have children with, but I keep quiet because he seems to not care about my presence.

"You know, I found the gun that you hid in the wall. I know you killed Frank. But why'd you do it? You wanted Monica all to yourself?" Tim asked before continuing, "Ruining one family wasn't just enough for you, was it?"

Tom takes his cannula out before getting off the bed and walking towards us. "And so what if I did?" What are you gonna do about it?"

"Get back in bed," Tim grits out as he moves me to stand more behind him for safety reasons, prompting Tom to challenge him with a "Make me."

"Yeah, that's what I thought. You're right. I killed Frank. But he had it coming. So screw him, and screw you," Tom says before telling Tim to put the cuffs on him and drag him away from his deathbed like a big man.

"This isn't over," Tim responds as he grabs my hand again, and we both leave Tom's room.

"I'm sorry. You shouldn't have heard all of that," Tim whispers before entering the truck, "I have to get to the station and type up that report. I'll drop you off at home before I do."

"No, take me with you, it would save gas," I said as I explained to Tim it wouldn't make sense to do that.

After arriving at the station, Tim heads to one of the computers while I follow him. I glance over to see his rookie, Lucy, walking over.

"My dad confessed to Frank Ochoa's murder. I'm typing up the report," Tim tells Lucy as she looks at me before gesturing there were ears listening, "She's my wife, she knows."

"Wait, wife?! As in ring on the finger?" Lucy asked in shock as I raised my left hand to show her my wedding band, "We'll get to that later, but Tim, while you were gone, I brought Monica Ochoa back in."

"Why?" Tim asks as Lucy explains, "Because I knew there was more to her story. You couldn't see past the version that you wanted to see."

"What'd she say?" Tim asks again, before Lucy tells him what was confessed.

The look on Tim's face tells me we're going straight back to that hospice facility. We walk back into the room and see Tom snoring in the chair, so Tim places the shot glass and pours Patron before placing the bottle on the table, waking Tom up.

"You brought me a present?" Tom asks before Tim tells him to think of it as a push.

"You didn't kill Frank," Tim says as Tom repeats that he did and tells Tim to cuff him, "Monica confessed."

"Leave her out of this," Tom responds.

"Frank was beating her. She fought back. She shot him. She was terrified, so she ran to you. You came up with the burglary story, helped her stage the house, then you hid the gun in case the cops got too close and you needed to frame someone else," Tim says.

"He was a brutal, abusive bastard. She deserves a medal for what she did," Tom responds, making me and Tim look at him in shock.

"He was an abusive bastard?" Tim asked, testing Tom for what came out of his mouth.

Feigning confusion that was fake, Tom asked if he was like him, which prompted him to say he was nothing like Frank.

"I taught you what you needed to know, son. You're a man now because of me," Tom says before I finally let my voice be heard.

"No, absolutely not. You are not getting credit for how Tim turned out," I gritted through my teeth as Tom looked at me with disdain before asking me who I was, "I happen to be the woman your son is going to spend the rest of his life with. I'll be damned if I stand by and let his piece of shit father try to take what's rightfully his credit. You deserve nothing of the sort, he's nothing like you and he will never be like you."

"Tim, you're going to let your wife speak to me this way?" Tom asked before Tim scoffed and responds, "She's right. I'm who I am in spite of you."

As Tom sits there stunned, Tim says, "Goodbye, Dad. I hope it hurts."

We left the facility without looking back, and after we arrived home, I suddenly felt my body being moved to where my back faced the door and I craned my neck up to look into Tim's eyes.

"Thank you," Tim whispers as I look at him in confusion, "Thank you for being by my side for that. I know it wasn't easy, but you were right. I needed you there with me."

"You don't have to thank me for that, I will always be there for you," I say before Tim smiles and leans down to kiss me.

After kissing for what felt like minutes, Tim moves his mouth to be near my ear and he whispers, "I'm also really turned on by you defending me."

I laugh before asking, "Oh are you? What are you going to do about it?"

I feel Tim's hands move down to my ass before I squeak out in surprise as he hoists me up, causing me to wrap my legs around his waist and feel the outline of his dick through his jean.

"I think I'm going to give my beautiful wife a thank-you gift," Tim whispers before moving towards our bedroom and putting me down on the bed.

"Tim, you don't have to," I started to protest before he cuts me off, "Just let me do it, you deserve it."

My attention gets grabbed while I watch his hands curl around the collar of his shirt before he pulls it up off his body, which, I feel myself start to drool over my husband's abs. His hands then moved to his belt to unbuckle it before he walk up to me and get down on his knees so he can be on the same level as me. Tim pulls me into another kiss, one more passionate than the last, as I feel his hands unbutton my jeans before he pulls the materials down to my ankles to take them off, leaving me in my black panties. He then positions my body to lean back against the pillows before he moves himself to be above me, Tim asks, "Is this okay?"

Not trusting my voice, I nodded my head before Tim's fingers curled around the sides of the panties as he started pulling them down. He groans out in pleasure as he changes his position, his shoulders in between my thighs, keeping my legs where he wants them to be, his hands near the area I yearn for him to pay attention to. I shivered when I felt his breath before he placed his mouth on me, causing me to let out a shuttered moan. When I felt myself getting close, Tim pulled away, causing me to groan out in frustration, making him laugh.

"The only way you're cumming is around my dick," Tim whispered in my ear as he gets himself out of his pants and boxers while he pushes my shirt up to above my chest, showing the matching black bra.

The both of us let out a groan as Tim enters me and starts to thrust, his dick hitting all the right places. After minutes passed, the both of us came and Tim's body moves to his side of the bed as I tell him that was a great gift, making him he let out a soft laugh.

"Glad to be of service," Tim says getting out of bed and putting on clean boxers and pajama pants before he goes to the bathroom to grab a washcloth to clean me up.

After Tim cleaned me up and helped me get dressed, he got back into the bed to pull me into him so we can cuddle.

"Tim?" I said after a moment of silence, causing him to say, "Yeah?"

"I have something for you," I respond before reaching over into my nightstand and pulling out a small box, "I was going to give you this later, but now feels right."

Tim opens the box and pulls out a onesie that says, "My daddy will arrest you if you mess with me."

"Babe, this is perfect for our future baby," Tim responds before he felt his voice stop short when he sees what else is in the box, reaching in to pull out the pregnancy test, "Are you really?"

"Yes, I found out two weeks ago, you're going to be a dad, Tim," I said as Tim pulled me into a tight embrace before kissing the top of my head, "And you're going to be the best dad, I just know it."

"I love you so much," Tim whispers before pulling me into the most loving kiss a girl could ask for.

Tim may have had the worst pick in the dad potluck, but no doubt in my mind he will never treat our children the way Tom treated him and Genny.

#tim bradford imagine #timothy bradford #the rookie #the rookie imagine #eric winter imagine #eric winter #tim bradford #tim bradford smut #the rookie smut #tim bradford fic #tim bradford x reader

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outsideratheart · 3 months ago

Text

You didn’t fail me (Alexia Putellas x reader)

A/N: My first fic in a while. I hope you all like it. In the name of honesty this has been in my drafts for about a week but I forgot to post it.

Very few times in your life had you found yourself speechless. Never like this and never whilst watching Barcelona play. You had a brutal case of Broncitus that had left you on the sidelines for a few weeks now which was the reason why you wasn’t in the starting line up.

Jana's goal was fair and you would die on the hill protesting that there was no offisde in the play. When the ref made the call the bench was on their feet ready to storm the pitch.

Then Real Madrid scored. They had the lead for the second time in this game and quite frankly you had had enough.

Breathing was painful at times but you were almost back to full health. You were on the bench but the plan was never to have you play, in fact it was advised against, but you found yourself in Pere's face demanding him to put you on.

"Y/N, I cannot allow that" Pere tried to talk you down but it wasn't working.

"No! You cannot allow that shit show to continue. Sub me on. Now"

Pere looked at you and you could tell he was thinking about it. His features softened and his eyebrows furrowed. In that moment you knew he was trying to workout who best to bring off.

"Ale" you answered the question for him "Straight sub, me for her. Let me get control of the midfield. Besides I won't be able to play with her worrying about me. Plus by the looks of it she is seconds away from getting a second yellow"

Both of your attentions went back to the pitch were Alexia and Esme were still argueing with the referee. You were just as mad as they were but they needed to move on. In football you needed to be a goldfish.

"She will worry. We all will" You were one of his players but he also knew you were human who wasn't 100%.

"Let her worry from the bench"

He nodded and those were the last words exhcanged. You went back over to the bench to grab your shin pads and take off your quarter zip.

Meanwhile Alexia was growing more and more frustrated with the way the game was being played and deep down she knew she wasn't having the best game. When she saw the board go up she saw her number but didn't even pay attention to the number beside it. Quickly she ran over to Patri to give her the armband only for her to refuse it.

"I'm not the captain. Y/N is" Patri said which was common knowledge within the team.

"She isn't playing and now neither am I. Take it so we can get on with the game" Still, Alexia was oblivous.

It is only when Patri turns Alexia's shoulder to the sidelines does she release who is replacing her. The balon d'Or winner was ready to kill her coach for playing you.

You could see the furiousity on your girlfriend's face but now wasn't the time. The clock was running down and there was less than ten minutes left in the game.

"Y/N, you aren-"

"Give me the band Ale"

You were mad and Alexia knew you had every right to be. Your mood didn't bother her but your condition plus the weather was a reason for concern.

She watched as you ran onto the pitch quickly. Misa was trying to run down the clock as she went down but it works in your favor. You gather the team and rip into them. There was no way for Alexia to know what you said but if the team’s reaction was anything to go by it just might have been your most motivating speech yet.

The clock was ticking and it was something you were fell aware of. You knew going onto the pitch that you wouldn't be playing your best so you used your time and energy wisely. You only made a run when you knew it could pay off and a couple of minutes in you saw the first opening. Caro and Aitana were linked up on the right and you shouted for Ewa to keep near you and in line with you. There was no way in hell that you would going to even come close to being offisde given the latest decision made by officals.

"CARO!!" you scream for the ball as you run with her further and further into the final third. She plays a ball perfectly into the box and the newly wet grass gave you the extra inches you needed to get your foot on the ball and into the back of the net.

"Get the ball" Salma does as you say and the team runs back to their half. The game was tied.

Alexia couldn't beleive what she was watching. Your presence has turned the game on it's head. You had done was she failed to do in 80 minutes.

Regular time had come and gone. There were mere minutes left in the game. Barca were hunting but Real Madrid were fighting. Both teams had chances but neither could score. You were out of your feet, your lungs on fire but the desire to win pushed you. You focused on the quality of your passes instead of making the runs.

With seconds left you send a ball into the box from near the half way line. It was a last ditch effort but it's all you had in you. The ball was flying through the air almost as if in slow motion. You knew who the target was and she was in the perfect position. Ingrid got her head to the ball with the perfect connection only for it to hit the crossbar and go over for a goal kick.

The whistle was blown and the game ended 2-2. The team might not have lost but a draw was like a win to your opponents and that pissed you off.

The energy at Montuic was stale with most of the fans already having left. That could have been due to the weather but it could also have to do with the team's performance.

Pere gave a speech during the huddle yet no one was listening. They all knew today wasn't good enough but still they took the time to do a lap of the pitch. Normally this is to thank the fans and today's was for that and an apology. Alexia walked next to you but she wouldn't look you in the eye. She did that when she was mad or upset, right now it was a mixture of the two. No words were exchanged as you wrapped your arm around her shoulders.

"You're not well" your girlfriend's words were barely above a whisper.

"I was needed on that pitch"

Again, silence fell on you two until she saw Pere near the tunnel.

"He shouldn't have played you" and with that she stormed into the locker room knowing full well that you didn't have the energy to chase after her.

The locker room was louder after you lost the champions league than it was now. Nobody was rushing to get changed. They sat in their kit and thought about how things went so badly.

"That shouldnt have happened" Pere began to spoke but Alexia cut him off. You knew this was coming and you also knew it would end very very badly.

"No!" the Catalonian rose to her feet "I don't care what the score was, you should never have put Y?N on. She has been ill for weeks. You were with us at the medical test, the doctor said she wasn't fit"

"Alexia, he said he advised against it"

"Alexia is right" Mapi was also on her feet walking towards Pere "He put his player at risk"

Pere looked at you. He told you this would happen and you knew it would be up to you to handle them, to handle the team.

"Both of you sit down" you didn't ask but they didn't do it "Sit down now" upon seeing the stern look on your face they did as they were told.

You stood up and looked at each player in the locker room before turning your attention to the two woman who were adament on defending you.

"Now I am going to be very very honest with you, with you all. That our there was abmismal. We pride ourselves on our ability to play at a world class level yet that our was fucking amateur hour"

"But the goal was-"

"A goal. Nobody in this world will argue with you on that one but we shouldn't have been in that position in the first place. We went down to Real Madrid not once but twice. That is not good enough. That is not us. That is not Barcelona" You take a second to catch your breathe "As for the decision to sub me on, that wasn't his, it was mine. Never have I seen us have to adapt to the way they play and I wasn't going to sit on the bench and watch it happen for a second longer. Pere didn't want me to come on but deep down he knew I had what it took to regain control of the game"

Alexia listened as you broke down the game. Play by play she realised as you pointed out mistake and mistake. To other teams it wouldn't come off as bad but you were right when you said the performance wasn't Barcelona level of football.

"I should have been on that pitch" Alexia still wasn't ok with the change.

"No you shouldn't" It was a harsh truth but it had to be said "You couldn't find a way through them and you were seconds away from getting a second yellow. You let them get under your skin and the moment that happened you were no longer of use to the team. I needed to be on the pitch without worrying about you worrying about me"

"So I got benched because I'm your girlfriend. That hasn't stopped us before" Alexia sunk into her locker. Even after your explanation, she din't agree with it.

"You got benched because things wasn't clicking with you on the pitch"

It was like a kick in a gut.

“A decision needed to be made and given how the game turned around it was the right one”

You looked at Alexia and disregarded everyone else in the room. In your mind it was just the two of you.

“I know” Alexia was disappointed in herself.

The rest of the locker room began changing whilst still thinking about what you said. Everyone was showered and changed within half an hour. By the time you game out of the shower Alexia was gone. You assumed she would take a minute then shower herself but clearly she had other plans and whatever they were you would respect them. You shoot her a quick message telling her you’ll be at home waiting for her when she’s ready. This happened quite a few times and you knew she would go to her mother’s. This was confirmed an hour later when you got a text from Eli saying Alexia was with her and Alba.

It didn’t hurt you that she went to them. Alexia was very close to her family and she was the one that helped her process her feelings or at least do so enough so that when she came to you she had some understanding of what was going on in her head.

You were sprawled out on the sofa under a blanket watching the latest series on Netflix when you heard the door open.

“Y/N” Alexia called out for you. In her mind she wasn’t sure if you would be at home and if you wanted to see her.

“In the living room”

She stood in front of you like a school kid who knew they had been naughty. Alexia carried the weight of the team on her shoulders since you were off and it had been weighing her down at times. She never let anyone see this but with you it was obvious. You knew your girlfriend better than she knew herself.

“Come here” you opened your arms and Alexia buried herself under the blanket and into the crook of your neck. A couple of seconds pass and as they do her breathing evens out. The pressure did consume her at times and when that happened she just needed some time.

“I’m sorry I played so badly that you had to go against what the doctor said” This is what bothered Alexia the most. Sure losing against Real was infuriating but the fact that you, who wasn’t full fit, felt the need to play affected her more.

“Baby, that’s not it at all” your fingers trace lines up and down her spine “Madrid were targeting you and it was working. They aren’t a team that’s worth you getting a red card. You’re better than them, Ale”

“Why couldn’t I be on the pitch with you?”

“Because as hard as you tried you wouldn’t be able to look at me as your team mate. You would look at me and see the girlfriend who you have been looking after for over a month”

“There’s nothing wrong with that. I always look at you and see my girlfriend because that’s what you are. Instead I had to watch from the bench as you ran yourself into the ground and you didn’t even do that much. You put the team before your own health and I don’t like that”

“Alexia” you wait until she looks at you “I’m ok. My chest is a little sore and the cough is still there but I’m ok. I’m no worse than when I stepped foot on that pitch”

It took you a couple of seconds but you saw it. There was something else going on in her head, something she wasn’t telling you.

“What is it? What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?” You waited and hoped alexia would stay something only she didn’t “Please tell me” you said softly.

“I failed you today. This morning when we left the house I told you we would win and I told you I would score”

She did tell you these things as you sat at the kitchen table, Alexia finishing her breakfast whilst you sipped on your coffee.

“Can I ask you a question?” Your girlfriend nods slightly “Did you give it your all on that pitch?”

Alexia thinks about it for a second. Every play she made on the pitch ran through her head like a homemade movie. Every pass of the ball, touch at her feet and shot at goal or more so lack of shots on goal.

"It wasn't my best performance" She was defeated, not just in the game today but also in mentality.

"It wasn't the team's best performance Alexia. You might be the captain but you weren't the only player on that pitch" You were aware how hypocritical you sounded but in this very moment you didn't care.

The woman laying in your arms was quiet for a couple of moments. She knew you were right but she was never going to admit that. Her stubborness wouldn't let her.

What you said next got her attention straight away.

"Besides that offside call was bullshit" you said with a smirk on your face.

"Por Dios! How was that offside? No one was anywhere close to being offside and definetley not Jana. She was miles off"

Alexia jumped to her feet and played the moment out right there and then in your living room. One minute she was her, the next Caro, Ewa and then Jana when she acts out the shot. You loved it when she talked football to you and her passion for the sport you both loved only made you love her more.

"See! Am I offside at any point?" She wasn't looking for an answer so her cutting you off before you can reply isn't a surprise "No, never, not a chance"

"No amor, none of you were"

"We'll be better next week. We'll be back to our Barcelona, I promise you" Alexia got serious all of a sudden and you knew why. She never liked to lose and whilst you weren't out for long, every game you spend in the stands she told you that she played for you. In her eyes she failed to make you proud that and that meant she failed you. What Alexia didn't understand is that even in the worse losses she could never fail you.

#alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas one shot #alexia putellas imagine #fcb femeni x reader #fcb femeni one shot #fcb femeni imagine #woso x reader #woso one shot #woso imagine #espwnt x reader #espwnt one shot #espwnt imagine

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hellisharchive · 1 year ago

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Hiii!!! I was wondering if you can do headcanons of what kinky/perv stuff that hazbin men (alastor, Lucifer, husk, Adam, val, etc) often do?

Plus I love your Adam fics!/headcanons

Have good day :3

﹒﹒﹒perversions of the soul

➤ [Separate] Lucifer, Adam, Val, Vox, and Saint Peter [Yall know I couldn't NOT include him, right?]

➤ 18+, sexual scenarios, sexual comments

➤ Hi, thank you for requesting! Because I don't write for Husk or Alastor won't include them, but I'll include the others! It's purely because I don't know how to write them in this way! I hope that's ok! :D

﹒﹒lucifer

He is a thighs man, he will stare at your thighs for hours if you let him. You've caught him so many times looking at your thighs and every time you lightly slap him on the shoulder because you know all he's thinking about is shoving his face in between them.

He loves to whisper dirty nothings into your ear to make you flustered in public, he lives for your reactions and red face as you try to remain calm. Just seeing your reactions and you slowly growing horny is enough to make him hard alone.

While that man can fuck good- he revels in giving oral sex to you whenever he can. He loves eating you out and sucking on you until you're cumming over and over again. He thinks you taste absolutely delicious and can't get enough of you. He's cum-drunk in all sense of the word.

﹒﹒﹒adam

This man isn't as kinky as you would originally think- but still explores sexually occasionally. However, if you got boobs, he will never get enough of them, and will motorboat them even if Lute is around. If you got a dick, best be ready for random crotch feel-ups at any given moment. If you don't have either/or- he will grab and pinch your ass and even smack it until its red.

He is big into you moaning, really big into it. It gets him off so easily, one little moan and he's at full mast. His main goal in bed is making you moan as loud as possible and when you do- well, expect to be getting a creampie.

Loves fangirls/fanguys and if you love him in his band before even personally knowing him, one stop to being given a...private show. He lives to see you get excited for his band and looking down at you from his stage, gives him the biggest serotonin rush (and another kind of rush) that slowly builds up over the course of the night as he gets sweaty and out of breath.

﹒﹒﹒valentino

Let's be real- what kinks doesn't this man have? There's many to chose from, but if I had to pick one- you being weak and powerless under him is one of his favorites. Watching you be completely at his disposal for any reason is a big yes to him.

Degredation is another one, oh boy, he loves making you feel like shit at any chance possible. He will tell you that you're a whore, a dirty slut, only good for being fucked by him and him alone.

He is possesive to the upmost degree and always makes sure to leave his marks all over you so others know that you are his. He always makes sure to parade you around the tower with you by his side so everyone knows not to fuck with you- messing with you or trying to fuck you.

Semi-public sex is his go-to when he needs a quickie, he loves fucking you in spaces where anyone can walk in and see you two going at it. He doesn't care who sees his body, he thinks it's hot as fuck and makes him even harder inside you if he hears someone walking by.

﹒﹒﹒vox

Just like Val- he is extremely possessive of what's his and makes it known. He doesn't display it publicly with you around as to not scare you off, but he makes sure every single person in the tower knows not to even touch you.

Biggest perv imaginable. Will watch you fuck yourself silly with toys even if he's just a room away. He never stops watching you, and I mean never. He always has to keep a close eye on you to make sure you don't fuck anyone else like Val or some ramdon schmuck off the street.

He loves getting his dick sucked above everything else, he loves the feeling of your pretty little lips wrapped around his cock swallowing all his cum down your throat. He loves to see you cry as you try to fit it all down, enjoys wiping them away and telling you that you're doing a good job.

﹒﹒﹒saint peter

That man is as innocent as can be what kinks could be possibly have? Well, he has a dirty little secret- one day he discovered that he got hard seeing you with ice cream all over your mouth and imagined it was cum. Naughty I know! Ever since he has not been able to let that thought go and guiltily imagines you sucking on his...

He always offers you ice cream just to watch you smother it all over your mouth as you eat it and he always acts nervous around you because he oh so badly wants to make his dirty fantasies real. But he can't just avoid you! You always ask why he likes ice cream so much and he simply says that it just tastes good.

He also would never admit that just you showing attention to him can get him riled up since almost every person that had crossed the gate never payed much attention to him. So when you showed interest in getting to know him and eventually dating him- he was down bad and it makes him act up a little.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #adam x reader #lucifer x reader #vox x reader #saint peter x reader #valentino x reader #saint peter #valentino #vox #lucifer morningstar #adam #lucifer morningstar x reader

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avocado-writing · 10 months ago

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being the worst wolverine’s wife and one day you get zapped by the TVA for whatever reason, and it looks like you completely disappeared, this is what leads logan to become depressed, start drinking and ultimately ignore the x men when they die etc etc

he goes with wade purely bc he would if you were alive- he couldn’t give less of a shit about wade’s universe but he can feel you over his shoulder like an angel telling him he needs to do this (i imagine it’s like the jean hallucinations he had in the wolverine movie)

what if you’re in the void and he finds you with the rest of the group, like being unable to believe you’re really here?

hehe i love angst and ily avo <3

I already did a “Logan meets you in the void” fic here so I didn’t wanna make this too long or I’d just end up hitting the same beats!

1.4k. rated m for excessive use of the word “fuck”

The day you disappeared you took his fucking soul with him.

You had been out shopping. Nothing weird about that, he wasn’t some overbearing husband who demanded to know your location every single hour. But then afternoon had turned into evening had turned into night and nobody had heard from you. The unfamiliar sensation of panic had risen, queasy, from his stomach into his chest. They sent out a search party and looked for days. Not a trace of you to be found. Logan couldn’t smell you. Fuck, he’d never not been able to smell you before.

He would hunt for you every day, hoping to find you alive but trying to level with the idea of you being cold and dead because at least then he’d have closure; he’d stay awake for hours on end until he collapsed from exhaustion… then he’d wake up and repeat the whole horrible affair. Nothing. After weeks of searching, Charles had laid a hand on his arm. Logan can still remember the look of pity on his face, like a bomb to the gut.

“I’m so sorry, Logan.”

They had to assume you were abducted and killed. Your body never turned up. And Logan just had to… keep going. How was he meant to keep going? You were his entire fucking life and then you were just…

Gone.

To say he was left empty was the biggest understatement of his fucking life. He was a shell of the man he once was. He never laughed any more, never smiled, always trying to plug the hole your absence left in him with whatever alcohol he could get his hands on. Drink himself to a place where he could forget you.

It never really worked. At least it made him numb to the pain though.

When he staggers home one evening, eyes bleary and head spinning, and finds the whole mansion torched? Everyone left that he loved fucking dead? Well, it takes the last vestiges of his existence and crushes them into dust.

Oh, Logan, he hears in the back of his mind. Your voice. It breaks him. He falls to his knees, hands buried in the burning timbers, and wails.

He survives. He does not live. Thinking about everyone he’s lost, with you haunting the corners of his consciousness, always reaching out to comfort him - but when he goes to nuzzle into the warmth of your palm he is overcome with rage and bitterness to find it’s just his own imagination playing tricks on him.

Then a fucking idiot in red dragged him away from the shambles which was his life and forced him to be functional again, if only barely. He’s angry, so angry all of the goddamn time, even when in the back of his mind he can hear you speaking sweet, calming words to him.

And then he hears your voice for real.

Sees you standing across the base this pathetic resistance has made. You look older, sure, he does too - but there’s no mistaking the fire in those eyes. You’re even wearing the same fucking shirt you went missing in, he remembers it, it has a picture of your favourite band.

His heart stops dead in his chest as you whisper his name.

“Logan?”

“Oh shit!” says Wade, and Logan has never wanted to kill him more, “Oh shit! Is this your refrigeratored wife, coming back to throw in a third act character arc?”

Logan finishes the bourbon bottle and throws the empty at Wade’s head, where it shatters and knocks him flat. You wince at the violence and he feels like pure shit.

“I’m fine,” Wade calls from the ground, sticking a thumbs-up into the air.

“Logan, I…” you clearly want to say something, but you have not been met with the Logan you knew. That Logan would have spent no time running to pick you up and hold you in his arms. This one half-snarls at the man he bloodied on the floor.

There is an agonising silence, both of you wanting to speak but not being sure how. You take a hesitant step forward.

“I never thought I’d…”

“How do I know it’s you?”

You recoil like he’s stabbed you with his claws, confusion and hurt flooding your face. Goddamn. He is the worst man alive. He’s not sure if he’s saying it because he just wants to lash out at the nearest person, or…

… or if, because he gets his hopes up, it might just kill him to have them crash down again.

“What?”

“All these fuckin’ timelines. How do I know? How can I be sure that you’re you?”

The sadness in your face melts away into anger. When you step forward this time, you’re on the warpath. He sees the others in the room cringe, trapped now in this caustic reunion.

“How can you be sure it’s me? Fuck, Logan, I knew it was you, didn’t I? What do you want? You want me to show you the shitty tattoo I got after we first started dating and we were both drunk?” You lift your sleeve to reveal a little design on your shoulder. “Want me to tell you how an eighteen-year-old Marie was my bridesmaid and she cried because she didn’t think anyone would ever be that kind to her after living as a mutant again? Want me to fucking remind you that in my vows I said I would be by your side, for fucking ever, no matter what - and how when that TVA agent zapped me when I was out for the day and I ended up here, it was only the thought of fulfilling those vows which kept me going? How about all that, or do I fucking need to humiliate myself more?” At this, you gesture to the others who have lined up at the side of the room, trying to look scarce but utterly failing.

Your shoulders are heaving with emotions, tears hot and heavy in your eyes but not yet spilling over. Logan grits his jaw. Yeah. It’s you.

“I…” he starts, but trails off when he realises there’s nothing he can say. You shake your head, numb.

“Fuck you, Logan Howlett,” you spit, words you’ve never ever thrown his way before, and run out of the room.

“Wow. Aced that one, peanut,” says Wade, and Logan rips off one of his legs.

He finds you several hours later at a campfire outside the rundown building which makes up headquarters. LeBeau has clearly been kind enough to part with some of his liquor, because you’re gulping down whiskey like it’s air. You stare at him, embers dancing in bitter eyes.

“What do you want?” you snap. He grunts as he sits down opposite you, either from age or exertion. Stares into the flames.

“I never stopped looking,” he manages.

You blink.

“What?”

“I never…” he shifts uncomfortably. It’s been a long time since he bared this much of his soul. “I never stopped. Even when the others told me to give up, that I would only make it worse for myself, I’d still search. Couldn’t face the idea you weren’t there any more.”

It’s true. If he was twelve bottles deep he’d be looking, if he was hungover as a dog he’d be looking. When the rest of the X-Men were still there and even after they weren’t. If he wasn’t sitting at a bar he was on the streets, ever a bloodhound trying to catch your scent again.

For the first time you soften.

“Oh.”

“So… when I asked if it was you… ah, fuck. I didn’t mean to come off as an asshole. Just couldn’t live with it if it wasn't true. Wasn’t real.”

When you stand he expects a slap. He deserves it. What he doesn’t count on is you sitting down - not on the log next to him, but in his lap. He hasn’t felt you do that for so long, and it’s so good. Your warmth on his thigh. You grab one of his hands, still larger than yours, and press it to your chest so he can feel your beating heart.

“I’m real, Logan. I’m right here, baby,” you whisper, eyes dewy. Fuck. His are as well; he can’t help it. He’s overwhelmed by you, your feel, your gaze, your smell. He’d forgotten how much he loved it.

Logan noses upwards against you, searching for your lips, and you let him find them. When you stroke his hair he can feel the wedding ring on your left hand. The kiss is desperate, longing, and the best one he’s ever had.

“Right here,” you repeat, forehead against his. He grips you so tightly that it’s possible he’ll never let go again.

#my writing #james logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x reader #logan x reader #wolverine x reader #x men x reader #logan howlett imagine #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #mcu imagine #wolverine fanfiction #mcu fandom

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vasito-de-leche · 9 days ago

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;KPOP DEMON HUNTERS ABBY - Relationship Headcanons

Compilation of headcanons about Abby (Abs Saja) in a romantic relationship.

YOUUUU KNOW ITTTTT OF COURSE THIS IS MY BIAAAAAS. I love getting into new things because I have so many ideas so many things to overthink and analyze about new blorbo, ougghhhh

since all the other Saja Boys that aren't Jinu get minimal screentime, it's pretty much free real estate for headcanons. dont look at me, i love making demon guys a little feral, as a treat for us monster freaks

When it comes to the Saja Boys and the concept of dating, I do think that if their idol careers lasted more than two songs released back to back, they would pull off some publicity stunts involving fake dating and so on--think of the Miromabby or Zoeystery shenanigans from the movie. Because of their nature as demons, I can't see them choosing to date someone so casually.

In my previous post with general headcanons for the entire group, I mentioned how the other four aside from Jinu might also have ulterior motives to help him and join the band, which adds to the pile of reasons they wouldn't lead any conventional lives on the surface, let alone find a partner.

But that's not to say that they're entirely closed off to the possibility of dating. There's just a lot to navigate first. Each has their own baggage to deal with.

When it comes to pretending to date someone as a publicity stunt, it's safe to say they're all good at it; it's part of the game, after all. They're very good at pretending to be a Kpop boyband already. But Abby specifically strikes me as one of the very few who might end up reconsidering his feelings on the matter, or at the very least, come to genuinely enjoy the illusion of a relationship. Jinu is too good at playing the game, only to pull the rug from under his partner's feet (RIP Rumi), Romance has (ironically) too many layers and too much baggage involving relationships to truly commit, and then Mystery and Baby are much too distant or guarded to even consider people out of the group.

While Romance and Abby have been shown to have some interest in Mira, I do like to think there is an important difference between the two of them when it comes to love--Romance plays the romantic and heartfelt lovestruck role as his namesake implies, but it is all part of an aesthetic and a fleeting hobby he indulges in. It's all fun and games, simply because he never had the intention of committing in the first place, a fun irony in which the embodiment of romance cannot really find love.

On the other hand, Abby lives by much more simpler rules: if it feels good, why stop or avoid it?

It's easy to portray him as a himbo, or someone who struggles to be taken seriously specifically because of how reductive his role in the boyband may be (only offering good looks and muscles, all brawn and no brain, etc) but I like to overthink things, and instead portray him as someone who is just direct when it comes about the things he wants or likes. While others take extra steps to get what they want, or pull the most insane mental gymnastics to justify their actions, Abby's approach is always the fastest and most straightforward.

Jinu will create a boyband to rival Huntrix and then almost fall in love with their leader only to betray her in the end and get his wish instead of going to therapy, but Abby? If he wanted to get his memories erased, he'd just give himself a concussion every so often or seek a spell that could do that. Easy.

I like to think this also plays into how he became a demon, heeding Gwi-ma's call in those extreme and rare occasions he couldn't just do as he pleased or get his way through sheer determination or perseverance, until it became the norm rather than the exception, and thus his shame is related to that powerlessness and dependence on the power Gwi-ma offers.

But to tie it back to relationships, this is all a lot of text to say that Abby would be the perfect Saja to get into a classic fake dating relationship 130k words slowburn fanfic scenario with, the type in which the lines between fake and real get blurry really fast. His demonic traits or emotional baggage don't keep him from forming meaningful relationships like others, but I do think that decades (maybe even centuries like Jinu) of living as a demon have definitely altered all of the Saja Boys' perception on how to properly interact with others.

When Abby catches feelings, he remains just as flirty, fun, silly and high energy, but there is a wild edge to his words that spells out trouble--not necessarily in any negative way, more so like the feeling of knowing you're being roped into shenanigans that none of your friends would agree with, the promise of fun danger, all while knowing you're in safe hands because the man leading you into the lion's den won't let anything happen to you.

I don't think he puts you in danger on purpose or with malicious intent, that's something Mystery or Baby would do. In Abby's case it's more like he gets caught up on these positive feelings you bring him that he ... forgets he's meant to put up a perfect boyband front. That's it. He gets swept up in the moment so easily, he just forgets he's in the human world.

His smiles are sharper, with pointy fangs you swear you have never seen him have. His hugs are a bit more suffocating, his grip on you when he leads you around town is somewhat erratic and manic, and you swear you can hear a slight distortion in his laugh, as if his voice wasn't human at all. He may forget that you need to sleep and show up at ungodly hours, looking frenzied and excited to take you out for a spin. Contrary to popular belief, no, he does not growl or get into fights with anyone who is remotely interested in you--but he DOES ask you directly if you'd like him to fight whoever tries to hit on you, literally asks if you'd be into that sort of thing of seeing him beat up others for your attention. He can do it. Humans are much more weaker. Just give him the sign. Do you want to see him beat up demons instead? Sure. He can do that too. He will look very good and flex his arms while doing it, just for you.

This is basically Abby in his honeymoon era--a demon trying to remember how to balance demonic instincts and habits built up over centuries against what he vaguely remembers as the conventional way to court someone. If you mix this with the fact that demons like the Saja Boys are basically doomed to relive their worst memories and feelings for all eternity as Gwi-ma's thralls, then you might understand why Abby gets a little too drunk on the butterflies and good feelings you awaken in him.

I think he's also the least troubled by the idea of his crush or partner finding out he's a demon. Surely, if you like hanging out with him, something so small shouldn't be a problem, right? It's not a problem for him, after all. You're absolutely cooked if he finds out you're into the demon aspect, though--Abby will be absolutely shameless, using this to his advantage whenever he wants to convince you indulge him or do whatever he wants. Abby may not have Baby's puppy eyes, but he keeps track of all the things you like about him, just in case.

When it comes to telling you about his past before becoming a demon, there might be some reluctance out of shame. The rest of the Saja Boys are allowed to know since they're all pretty much on the same boat as him, but what about you? What if you decide he's not the one for you based on something that happened so long ago? I can see Abby blurting out the events that led him to become a demon in the heat of the moment, during an argument or something, if only as a way to get you to stop arguing with him.

On a less intense note, I do agree that he's the clingiest Saja Boy, at least physically; Abby has to have a hand on you at all times, no matter how. Either with an arm around you, leaning on your shoulder or just fully leaning his entire weight on you, sliding his hand in the back pocket of your pants while you walk, resting his chin on the top of your head, etc.

This guy does not care about personal space. Or rather, he cares about getting rid of it altogether. Most likely to kabedon you, at first for fun to see your reaction, and once he settles into the relationship as a way to get a moment of your undivided attention whenever he feels like. He makes zero attempts at hiding your relationship once he's caught genuine feelings, and even gloats to his band members about it.

Most likely to make you sit on his lap even if there's other seats available because he thinks it's extremely endearing. Most likely to give you his clothes to wear, except he wears extra small shirts to emphasize his muscles, so he doesn't get to enjoy the view of his partner in an oversized shirt or sweater because he might as well be wearing crop tops at this point. This is easily remedied by just buying an extra large pair, so you can at least have matching outfits.

One thing that will never change regardless of the stage of your relationship with Abby is the insane amount of shirtless selfies he sends you throughout the day. You guys could spend 20 years married and he'd still manage to sneak in a shirtless bathroom selfie.

There's so fucking many. You can't even pull the "When he's copying your snaps so you pull this move" meme because he already sends you dozens of pictures of him flexing his biceps. These range from tasteful shirtless pictures as a "pick me up" for you, to genuine fun selfies of him going about his day but he somehow manages to always have his shirt open, to extreme levels of fuckboy vibes manufactured to deal extra damage to any fans in the vicinity.

I also like the dumb idea that, at some point, you just start playing tic tac toe with his abs whenever you receive a picture of them, and he thinks it's so fucking funny he always plays along. So your camera roll is 50 selfies and 20 versions of the same selfie of his abs because you keep drawing and playing tic tac toe on them with him. While others think his focus on his looks might be an indicator of low self-esteem or compensation for any other insecurities, Abby is actually rather confident. He thinks it's hilarious if you draw funny smiley faces on any pictures of his abs, or joke about how conceited he seem to be.

Another fun headcanon I have is that he's the lead dancer, and thus tries to get you to dance some of the Saja Boys choreographies from time to time, since he came up with them himself. The fans love to see these videos of you two practicing Soda Pop and trying to mess each other's rhythm up for fun.

#kpop demon hunters #kpop demon hunters x reader #kpop demon hunters saja boys #saja boys #abby #posts that i write at the speed of light so i can get these boys out of my brain #i need to put these thoughts down on a post and BE FREE #SO I CAN MOVE ONTO PROPER FICS #THE GRIP THIS MOVIE HAS ON ME THEYRE LIKE 1010 NSR ALL OVER AGAIN GUYS

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nanenna · 4 months ago

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That's Not How You Keep a Low Profile

Available on AO3

DPxDC

Danny joins Ember's backup band and goes with them on tour, he didn't take into account that he was in hiding from several groups and organizations chasing after him for various reasons. Who knew Ember would get popular enough to be noticed by one of them?

🎵🎸🎶

Damian entered the classroom to find Skylar and a couple of her friends standing off to the side, clustered around one girl holding a phone that was playing loud rock-and-roll music. Damian set his bag down at his desk, then went to go join them. “Good morning, Skylar.”

“Damian, hi!” Skylar greeted cheerfully, then moved so Damian could join their group. He obligingly moved in so he could also peer down at the video playing on the girl’s phone. “It’s this new artist who’s been getting popular recently, Ember McLain. She’s doing a tour right now and is going to be pretty close to us, just over in Pennsylvania.”

Damian studied the vocal artist, a young woman dressed in mostly black with a few silver accents, bright blue hair, and what he believed Brown had called “corpse paint” make up. Though from the way her hair seemed to almost defy gravity and the blue skin tone of her back up musicians perhaps she was a meta or alien like them. The exception was a baseline human young man dressed in a similar style to McLain with dark hair and a regular skin tone, playing back up guitar and doing back up vocals.

Damian frowned, something about the back up vocalist was familiar.

The song wound down, the back up vocalist abandoned his stand mic to move to front stage next to McLain while swinging his guitar behind himself. The keyboardist picked up a virulently pink guitar and took the vocalist's place. Damian pointed at the phone, “Who is he?”

“That’s Frosty McGee, usually he’s the back up vocalist but they have a duet.”

Damian scrunched up his nose, but chose not to comment on the poorly chosen stage name. The camera zoomed in, finally giving him a clear view of the older teen’s face as he opened his mouth and started singing.

Damian’s whole body went cold.

It couldn’t be, it just couldn’t. He’d watched his older brother die with his own eyes, lowered into the Lazarus Pit never to rise. And surely if he did somehow survive he wouldn’t be singing for some rock-and-roll band in America, he would’ve found some way to return home. Surely.

“This…” Damian tried not to let his face twist as he spoke the name, “Frosty McGee is a stage name, correct? What’s his real name?”

Skylar looked thoughtful as she pulled out her own phone and began typing away. “I don’t think their real names are public,” She said slowly as she navigated to the artist’s website. While she went to the “about” page, Damian pulled out his own phone to follow Skylar to the website. “Yeah, all they have listed are everyone’s stage names.”

Damian just nodded, already looking up their tour information.

🎵🎸🎶

Danny collapsed into a chair in the green room, exhausted after spending half the night tapping into his ghostly wail while in human form. Ember and the zombies looked fresh as ever, the consequence of Danny being the only one with a heart beat in the band.

“Your stamina’s getting better,” Ember offered with a smirk.

Danny resisted flipping her off, he knew she really meant it, even if she seemed to like getting under his skin a little too much.

“Look alive,” Mortimer, their manager, said as he walked into the room. “Someone actually bought a VIP ticket with the backstage experience, so you’re going to meet a fan.”

Ember perked up, already excited. “Just one? Or a whole group?”

“Just the one, so be ready to give him the full experience.” Morty left then, likely to go walk their fan back.

“Try to look a little tired at least, you are supposed to be a normal human,” Danny groused as he sat up and went about mopping up what sweat he could without smearing his makeup.

Ember scoffed, “No, we’re metas, Danny. You’re the one who’s supposed to be normal.”

“Or aliens,” Gunther said with his craggly voice. “We never did decide which one we like better.”

“You can be aliens, I’m a meta,” Ember declared proudly.

There was a knock on the door. Everyone straighted and turned to face the door, a bright smile spread on Ember’s face.

Danny’s own soft smile fell as he watched their fan enter and look around the room. A boy, the same age Danny was when he stepped into the portal, with an all too familiar face. His sharp green eyes zeroed in on Danny. There was a long tense moment where everyone simply stood, Damian just inside the door and Danny just in front of his chair (when had he stood?), staring at each other.

“Akhi?”

In a panic Danny turned partly invisible, “It’s been eight years Damian, let me go.” He finished slipping from human sight, then intangibly slipped right out of the room. He raced invisibly through hallways and walls until he got to their tour bus. Technically as ghosts they didn’t need it, but 1) the living expected that sort of thing and 2) Ember insisted on doing the whole experience. (He knew it was really because as someone who wasn’t entirely ghost Danny did actually need someplace to sleep and eat and shower and all that, that Ember actually got the tour bus for him.)

Once inside Danny let his powers fade as he curled up on a seat in the back, arms wrapped around his legs and face buried in his knees. Stupid! Why did he say that? Why did he run?!

He knew why.

“Baby-pop?” Ember called faintly, phasing into the van.

“Here,” Danny called miserably.

“Okay, good. We're all here just open a portal and we'll skedaddle.”

Danny sniffled but nodded. He looked up to find everyone was already gathered in the bus, all staring at him with worried faces. “Right, yeah, okay, I can do this.”

Rock got behind the wheel while everyone else settled in. Danny had to leave the bus, having been taught by Wulf on making portals. Not every ghost could learn, but Danny was predisposed to it because… well, it was pretty obvious why.

Danny clawed open a portal to Ember's lair, grabbing an edge and pulling it wide enough to fit the whole bus. The bus trundled through and Danny quickly followed, closing the portal behind him.

Almost on reflex he transformed once fully in the Realms, taking a deep (but completely unnecessary) breath of that crisp, fresh ectoplasm. The others filed off the bus, Ember put a gentle hand on Danny’s arm. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“Good.” Ember crossed her arms and gave Danny a Look™, “Care to explain what just happened?”

Danny groaned, he knew this was coming. “I’d rather not.”

Everyone frowned at him.

Danny scrubbed at his eyes briefly. “I haven’t told anyone, not even Sam and Tucker, not even Jazz!”

“So… do you want to conference call them in and explain it to everyone at once? Or is this a dead men tell no tales kind of situation?”

Danny gave Ember his own Look™. “I know what gossips ghosts are.”

“Hey,” Gunther cut in, “if you want us to not tell anyone we won’t tell anyone. Promise.”

Danny groaned as he thought it over, but he kinda did owe them an explanation. “Alright, but can we go somewhere a little more comfortable first? I’m still exhausted.” He wasn’t, not physically. But ghosts aren’t physical so being emotionally exhausted was basically the same thing.

“Yeah, let’s go hit my lounge.” Ember slung an arm over Danny’s shoulder and led him away from the bus.

Danny smiled, feeling loved and cared for. It was still a little weird sometimes, realizing how much his former rogues actually liked him despite how at odds they’d been at the start. They’d basically been coddling him ever since…

Once in the lounge everyone picked a plush, overstuffed piece of furniture to literally lounge on. Ember had no shoes off rule, it felt weird to just put his boots up on a couch, so Danny chose to slouch comfortably into the back while his legs stretched out to the floor. Once everyone was settled, they all looked over at Danny expectantly.

How to even start? “So uh… I’m adopted.”

“Wait, how does Jazz not know you’re adopted?” Ember exclaimed.

“Oh no, that’s the part everyone actually knows, or at least everyone I knew back then. It’s everything before that that no one knows.”

“That kid is from your bio fam,” Steve wheezed. Everyone looked at him, then back to Danny.

He shrugged and looked down at his gloves, “Yeah. That’s Damian, my little brother.”

“And you just ran from him because?” Ember prompted.

Gunther snorted, “Didn’t just run, he literally ghosted the kid.”

Danny couldn’t help blushing, “I panicked, okay?”

Everyone relaxed at that, smiling brightly at Danny’s embarrassment. Morty pulled out his phone and started tapping away, “Should I get in contact with him about a redo then?”

“No!” Danny yelped, his voice cracking like it hadn’t in almost two months. He flushed harder, Ember was going to tease him about that later. “No, no absolutely not. Honestly if he’s found me then that means Mother and Grandfather know I’m still alive after all. I think… I think I’m going to have to stay in the Realms.”

“What?!”

“Baby-pop, no!”

“You can’t!”

Danny looked down at his gloves, picking at the seems. “Look, no adoption starts for happy reasons, every adoption comes from a tragic backstory. My birth family is dangerous, even to us. No, listen,” Danny said harshly when the others scoffed. “They’re dangerous, they’ll hurt you trying to get me back.”

Ember’s lips thinned, “Are they ghost hunters like the-” she cut herself off, her face getting all the grimmer.

Danny shook his head, “No, magic users. They won’t have to know what you are to use magic artifacts against you. After all, blood blossoms were believed to be harmful to witches, it was just coincidence they were harmful to ghosts.”

“Okay,” Ember said, looking over to the rest of the band. “So Frosty McGee is quitting, but that doesn’t mean you can’t still hang around us. You can be a roadie,” Ember cut in when Danny tried to protest. “Wear one of those medical masks when you’re working, never be on stage or in front of a camera, that’s fine. But we still need you, Danny. You’re the one who’s been dead the shortest, you know how things work now. You’re the one that suggested I get a manager and start doing things legit instead of just overshadowing my way into gigs.”

“We didn’t even know metas were a thing until you told us,” Gunther added.

“I wasn’t aware of how much technology had advanced,” Morty added. “If it weren’t for you we would have a completely outdated website and no youtube channel. We’d probably only have half the merch we currently have available.”

“Don't forget the portals,” Steve wheezed.

“Yeah! Without portals we couldn’t make regular pit stops back to the Realms to recharge. So we need you, Danny. Frosty can quit, but don’t let Danny abandon us.”

Danny sighed, but he couldn’t help smiling at his friends, even if his bottom lip was wobbling dangerously. “Alright, I get it. I’ll stay, a roadie you say?”

“It’ll make us loading and unloading the bus more believable if we have hired muscle pretending to do it.” Morty smirked down at his phone.

“Ugh, gonna make me earn my keep.”

🎵🎸🎶

Damian stood in the green room in shock, unsure what had just happened. His mouth felt dry, his skin felt cold, every hair on his body was standing on end, his hands felt clammy. Daniel had just vanished right before his eyes. He turned to ask someone, anyone, what had just happened.

The room was empty.

Damian looked around, the door behind him was still closed, there were no other exits, he was the only living being in the room.

Metas, Damian reminded himself. He was fairly certain McLain and her band members were metas, likely the phrase Daniel had spoken was actually a code phrase for immediate evac. Damian turned and left the room, quickly making his way further into the building and out to the back. There was an employee parking garage just behind the venue that surely the band’s equipment vehicles were kept in during the show.

The garage was not completely empty, but it was completely bereft of trailers, tour buses, or other equipment hauling vehicles. Damian had been too late, they had fled completely. Damian kicked a support pillar in frustration, it didn’t help.

All he knew was his brother lived, and for some reason he chose not to return home, had fled at the mere sight of Damian.

Well, he would have some research to do. But before that, he had to return home before his absence became suspicious, there was only so long his careful web of misdirection would hold.

The next morning he returned to the manor, no one the wiser. Thomas was on his way out and greeted Damian as he entered. “Hey, how was the sleepover?”

“It was an experience,” Damian commented absently.

Thomas laughed at Damian’s response. “I’m glad you had fun.”

He was about to leave when Damian realized this was the perfect opportunity for some information gathering. “One of my peers said something I didn’t understand, I believe it was a meme.”

“Oh yeah? Which one?”

Most memes followed a format where the exact details could be adjusted to the situation at hand. Considering Daniel had said Damian’s name and the specific number of years he’d been -dead- missing likely he could swap those out for less suspicious details. “It’s been two years Thomas, let me go.”

“Ah, okay so you just claimed to be a ghost or a grief fueled hallucination and that I need to get my shi- uh… stuff. Together. My stuff together. Anyway, usually whoever says that also disappears right after they say it.”

“And is this meme recent?”

Thomas shrugged. “Eh, not really? The concept’s been around for decades at least, even in that format, but I don’t think I’ve seen it used as a reaction until a little bit ago.”

Damian nodded, “Thank you for the clarification.”

“No problem.” Thomas waved and was on his way. Damian went to his room to take care of his overnight bag. A quick check of McLain’s website showed no change, but that was to be expected so soon after they fled. He wondered if the whole tour would be cancelled.

Damian spent the next few days practically haunting McLain’s website (when he wasn’t systematically searching for Daniel’s likeness on public cameras), as well as the website of the tour’s next venue. He even went so far so to create a throw away email, signed it up for McLain’s fan club, and set it to alert him of incoming emails. Thus he was one of the first to find out when the next concert was suddenly cancelled, all tickets refunded. The newsletter that followed informed the fans that, “Sadly Frosty McGee has had to part ways with us due to some matters Frosty wishes to remain private. We wish him and his family well.” It went on to promise that though the next concert was cancelled the rest of the tour would continue as scheduled.

So Daniel had fled.

Damian wasn’t surprised, judging from his reaction Daniel felt his new identity had been compromised. Damian just didn’t understand why. Why Daniel was afraid of him. Why he hadn’t attempted to contact Damian. Why he hadn’t come home.

He had been away from the League and Grandfather’s influence long enough to understand why Daniel would choose not to go back to them, but Damian had been out of the League for five years, did Daniel not know? Had he not heard the news about famous billionaire Bruce Wayne’s youngest and only (known) blood related son?

It didn’t matter, Damian wouldn’t have the answers to any of his questions unless he found Daniel again. Even if he has fled again, Damian really only has the one lead and he would follow it.

In the meantime he had his regular duties to attend to.

🎵🎸🎶

“C'mon, what are you doing just sitting around? It's time for lessons.”

“What?” Danny looked up from where he was slouched in a chair with phone in hand, blinking at Ember.

“Lessons, we still haven't gotten you to sing and play at the same time yet.”

“I… quit… the band?”

“Frosty quit the band, I figure we can use this time to really work on your skills so they're finally up to snuff when we debut Phantom.”

“What?”

“What do you mean what?” Ember huffed and rolled her eyes. “Do you know how many people asked for refunds when we said you quit? I'm not letting any more fans get away.”

Danny just kept blinking, “You know Phantom is in hiding just as much as Danny, right?”

“So you get a costume change and pick a different stage name. Your old duds are outdated anyway.”

“It's what I died in???”

“And you think I died dressed like this?”

Danny wasn't sure how to respond to that.

“So we get you some new duds, pick out a better stage name, and wear makeup while performing. Do you know what contouring can do?”

“It would be suspicious-”

“If we brought you in right now,” Ember cut him off. “Which is why we're aiming for the next tour, which will give us time to get everything set up, including improving your abysmal guitar skills.”

Danny couldn't help smiling, “Yeah. Yeah, okay, let's get to it then.”

🎵🎸🎶

When the time came, Damian knew better than to buy another VIP ticket, they would be on guard for that. This time he decided to find and sneak into their vehicle while the concert was held. There was the risk the band would take a taxi or uber to their hotel instead, but considering the size of the venue and number of tickets sold they would likely attempt to reduce spending, especially since they missed the previous concert. It was a simple matter to pick the lock and sneak onto the bus. He sat waiting in the driver’s seat, making it impossible for them to drive off without him.

McLain stood just outside the bus and opened the door with a scowl on her face, crossing her arms once the door was open. “I could have you arrested for this.”

“I merely have a few questions for you.”

“I should sue you for lost revenue, do you know how much we lost in deposits alone? All those tickets we had to give a full refund on. Not to mention we lost 10% of sales for the rest of the tour, which might not sound like much but when you’re counting pennies that’s a lot!”

“How does Frosty McGee feel about having such loyal fans?”

McLain threw her arms in the air, “I don’t know! We haven’t heard from him since he left. Just took one look at you, packed what he could fit in one bag, and hopped the next bus.”

“And he told you nothing?”

“He told us he was oh for two on families, but you were from the first set of fuck ups and he wasn’t going back.”

That was disheartening to hear. It sounded as if Daniel had found a family to take him in the way Father took in children, but it also sounded as if they were not good to him the way Father is with his children. “Who was his second family?” Damian would make them pay.

“Fuck off, I’m not telling you that. It doesn’t change anything anyway, they know where Frosty is even less than us.”

Damian would like to find out what Daniel had been up to since his disappearance, there was also the chance it would give him a better idea of Daniel’s direction, and certainly he would like to find out what this so-called family did and find a way to get justice for Daniel, but McLain was not wrong that little of that would be useful in tracking Daniel down. He pulled a business card from a pocket and held it out to her. “If he does contact you again.”

“No.” Despite her words she took the card. She took it and set it on fire before dropping it to the asphalt beneath her feet. “In the extremely unlikely event he does get back in contact, I’m not telling you. He clearly wants nothing to do with you, got spooked real bad.” She crossed her arms again and looked away. “I’m worried.”

“Very well.” Damian descended the bus’s stairs, the band moving aside to glare at him as he passed. “You’re not the only one worried for him, it may have been years but he’s still my brother.”

“That’s none of our business.” McLain waved him off as she entered the bus, the manager and the rest of the band following behind her. Damian stood to the side and watched as the bus trundled out of the parking lot, leaving him behind.

🎵🎸🎶

Danny watched Damian until he was out of sight, going so far as to lean invisibly out of the bus. Once the building they were passing came between him and his little brother, he finally moved back inside and quietly scoured the bus.

“Baby-pop?” Ember asked as she watched him methodically search high and low.

Danny put a finger up to his lips, then went back to scouring. One thing Danny had learned over the years is that ghosts have a 6th sense for when they’re being observed, they always know when being watched or listened to. Danny felt that subtle itch now, a scratch at the back of his brain that felt a lot like how on edge he used to be all the time, like the paranoia Grandfather had carefully beaten into him.

The first bug he found was just a tracker, a weirdly spiky oval with a tiny red light to let him know it worked. Well, that he would leave on the bus, their whereabouts would be public anyway, and if only one of the bugs goes out Damian might not come back to plant more. He handed it to Morty with another finger over his lips again, he’d answer questions after he found the other bug.

Eventually he found the listening bug, this one a plain little button shape. It almost looked like an oversized button, the holes for the mic a good disguise. This one he showed to the others before phasing his arm out the car and dropping it in the road. He did one more sweep to make sure there weren’t any others, double checked the weirdly spiky tracker didn’t have any tiny cameras or mics attached, by the time he finally sat down to explain the bus was parked in the hotel's lot.

“The one I dropped outside was a listening device, that one I gave you is a tracker. Since where we’re going on tour is already publicly available I don’t see a point to getting rid of that one too, though we should probably leave it behind when we go to the Realms.”

“Ancients,” Morty murmured, staring down at the tracker nervously.

“Not painting a very reassuring picture,” Gunther agreed.

“Danny,” Ember said softly, “your little brother broke into our bus and hid bugs inside.”

Danny sighed as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Right, this is the part even Jazz doesn’t know about. You need to keep this to yourselves, you can’t even hint you know what I’m about to tell you.”

Everyone nodded.

“Jazz and… the Fentons believe I was raised in a cult before I met them. Honestly, looking back at it now, they’re right. An incredibly violent assassin cult that worships pools of nasty smelling, bubbling, glowing, green water.”

Everyone was staring at him with wide eyes, forgetting to even pretend to breathe.

“The person who both started and runs this cult is my Grandfather, who is over five hundred years old and still alive. Well… mostly, so far as I can tell. I didn’t know about ectoplasm or the Realms back then, so it’s kinda shifted my view of a few things but I can’t really confirm anything without going back there, yanno?”

“That is… a lot,” Morty said quietly.

“Have you ever assassinated anyone?” Gunther asked.

“I was nine when I got out,” Danny deflected.

“Has your brother assassinated anyone?” Rock asked.

Danny shrugged, “I dunno, probably?”

“Ancients,” Morty murmured again.

“So we’re just… keeping this?” Ember plucked the tracker from Morty’s open palm.

“I’m hoping if the tracker keeps working and is accurate he won’t break in and put more devices in here.”

“Lovely.”

“I can see why you were hiding,” Morty said tiredly.

“And also why I didn’t want to tell anyone,” Danny added. “Ghost hunters may have all the specialized tools to hurt us, but most of the ones we’ve met so far are pretty incompetent.” It had taken Danny letting his guard down for him to be caught in the first place, and by the time he had realized the betrayal it had been too late.

“That explains the hat though,” Steeve wheezed with a laugh.

Danny hadn’t just been wearing one of those paper medical masks, he’d added a brimmed hat to hide his hair and face from cameras. The mask got hot and sweaty sometimes!

“Well this just makes our decision all the better, you'll blend in better if we have other roadies,” Ember said confidently.

Danny perked up. “Oh? Who'd you get? Johnny actually looks human, I could blend in with him. And Kitty would kill it as security.”

“They're waiting in the hotel, you'll see.” Ember winked as she got up and exited the bus. Danny followed, eager to see more familiar faces.

The faces waiting for him in the hotel were familiar, but not the ones he expected.

“Sam! Tucker!” He ran to them, arms open wide. His best friends eagerly opened their own arms in welcome. It was like coming home and breathing for the first time, being in his best friends’ arms. Only one thing could make it better, but no annoying older sisters were in sight. Danny wasn't going to let that ruin this reunion, though.

Danny leaned back just enough to look Sam and Tucker in the eyes. “What are you doing here? How?!”

“We took our finals early,” Sam supplied. “And since the last week is just classroom parties we took it off.”

“We're gonna spend the whole summer with you!” Tucker grinned so brightly Danny thought he might go blind. Or it might just be the tears brimming.

“You guys!” Danny snuffled and swiped at his eyes.

“Check it out.” Tucker turned around to show the back of his shirt, which had “STAFF” in big white letters across the top, stark against the black shirt, and the tour's info below.

Sam pulled out a black fabric face mask from her pocket and offered it to Danny. He held it up to find it also had “STAFF” in bold white letters across what felt like very breathable fabric. It probably wouldn't stop a sneeze, but it worked great as a disguise.

Danny couldn't help barking out a bright laugh, “You guys going to help me load and unload the band's gear?”

Tucker scoffed, “You wish, I'm Ember's new tech guy.”

“Makeup and costumes,” Sam said in a deadpan before raising her voice slightly. “Which seems pretty sexist.”

“Do you want to help Danny cart gear or not?” Ember asked from where she and the others were watching their reunion.

Sam made a face and sighed, “Makeup and costumes it is.”

“So glad we got that figured out. Hey dipstick, open a portal to my lair. The boys and I are gonna party.”

Danny rolled his eyes but obliged. Honestly it was sweet of them to let him have the room to himself while he and his best friends caught up. Danny was so lucky to have so many good friends.

🎵🎸🎶

After Damian’s lackluster conversation with McLain, dashing any hopes for progress or leads, it was time he told Father and the others the situation. Truly he knew he should have before now, springing Daniel on Father would not be kind, he had simply hoped to have Daniel's whereabouts known so Father could meet him as soon as he was ready. Instead Damian was going to need to request assistance in tracking Daniel down.

It felt like a personal failure.

Still, to tell Father about his living, if missing, son was far preferable than him finding out about Daniel some other way and believing him dead. Damian had just finished setting up his presentation on the large screen TV in the media room when Father and Alfred entered.

“All ready to go, chum?”

“Yes, Father, we’re just waiting on the others now.”

Alfred began setting out drinks and snacks while Father took a seat in one of the armchairs. “While we wait, any chance of a hint on what all this is about?”

Damian was unsure how to answer, the news was not all bad but it seemed Father was under the impression this was some left over school project or something of the like. “It is a very serious matter,” was all Damian ended up saying.

Father smiled, “I’m sure it is, you wouldn’t have gone to all this effort otherwise.”

Damian nodded, glad Father understood.

Soon the others began trickling in. Thomas and Cain, as other residents of the manor, had been invited, Richard of course was also invited as he would be devastated to learn of a new brother any other way, Gordon and (reluctantly) Drake had been invited as Damian would be requesting their help in searching for Daniel, and Todd had been invited purely as curtesy and had, expectedly, turned the invitation down. Damian had considered some of the other Gotham vigilantes, but had ultimately decided against it. There were already enough people crowding into the room.

Once everyone had arrived and found their seats, Damian started his rehearsed presentation. “Thank you all for coming, I appreciate the support. I’m afraid this will not be as light hearted as you may be expecting. In fact, I have some rather distressing news. Father, at Mother’s behest I have been keeping a secret from you.”

Father sat up straighter, his pleased smile falling into a frown.

Damian took a deep breath, “I am not your firstborn, I had an older brother.”

As expected, this announcement caused quite the stir. There were a few shocked gasps, Richard looked devastated, Father had hunched forward to rest his elbows on his knees while staring down at the floor, Alfred moved to stand beside father with a hand on his shoulder.

Damian gave them a moment to digest what he had just told them before moving on. “His name was Daniel, when he was nine and I was six he went on a mission and came back successful but critically injured. Grandfather granted him permission to use one of the smaller Lazarus Pits, but he died en route. Mother put him in the Pit anyway, but the device used to lower him broke and his body never surfaced.”

“Oh Dami,” Richard said softly, a hand held out as if he would pull Damian into a hug.

“I’m telling you all this now because five weeks ago I saw him in a video for a performing artist.” Damian started the visual portion of his presentation, beginning with with a promotional photo of McLain and Daniel, then zoomed in on Daniel’s face.

Everyone’s heads snapped back up, entire focus laser guided to Daniel’s picture.

“He is using the stage name Frosty McGee,” Damian paused to allow the snickers and guffaws he had been expecting, he switched to a different promotional photo, this one including Daniel’s bandmates, “and was performing as a back up guitarist and singer for the artist known as Ember McLain. As they were, and still are, touring I attended a concert under a VIP ticket that included meeting the artists after the show.”

Father frowned, “I didn’t know you went to a concert.”

“It was an information gathering mission for personal reasons, of course you were not informed. I simply wanted to be sure I was not mistaken and McGee was actually Daniel before I burdened you with this distressing secret.”

“Daniel isn’t a burden, none of you are a burden,” Father said tiredly.

“And you confirmed that Frosty is Daniel?” Tim asked rather loudly.

“Yes, Drake. Unfortunately he recognized me as well. He said, and I quote, ‘It’s been eight years Damian, let me go.’ Then he and the other artists all vanished into thin air.”

There were more titters and guffaws. Thomas smiled brightly, “Ah, so that’s why you asked about that meme.”

There were a few frowns, clearly the others already putting puzzle pieces together. “Vanished?” Drake asked.

“I believe the other backup band members may be metas, possibly McLain herself as well. Invisibility is not a common met ability, but it is not unheard of either.”

“Or magic,” Cain offered.

Damian nodded to her, “Magic is also a possibility. Unfortunately,” Damian clicked to the announcement about Frosty McGee leaving the band, “McLain claims Daniel packed his belongings and left without any further explanation, neither she nor her companions have heard from him since.”

“Oh no!” Richard and Gordon both said together.

“I have monitored all publicly available modes of transport out of Midville, Pennsylvania, but I have not been able to track Daniel’s movements.”

“Send me what you got, I’ll see what I can do,” Gordon ordered.

Damian nodded, glad to have her help. “There is one last matter. McLain said Daniel had been adopted, but he was hiding from them as well, I suspect that was why he was using such a ridiculous stage name.”

“Well we’ll just have to look into finding them as well,” Gordon said with a wicked grin.

“They don’t have any shirts in my size,” Richard whined, staring down at his phone.

The others all pulled out their phones and began tapping away.

“Oh,” Thomas said brightly, “he has a credit on one of the songs!”

“Yes, he performed a duet with McLain.”

“Anything for You?” Tim scrunched his nose as his phone.

“Unfortunately,” Damian agreed. “A standard pop love song.” For the duet no less.

“Everything from the tour is listed as limited supplies,” Richard said morosely, swiping further.

“Of course,” Gordon said with a smile, “Frosty left without saying he’d ever come back, they aren’t going to make more merch with a member who’s left.”

“I don’t think they have shirts wide enough to fit any of us,” Thomas said.

Father tapped his phone decisively, then tucked it away while looking quite proud of whatever he’d just done.

Damian sighed deeply, from his very soul. “McLain also has a youtube account, there are a few private videos with behind the scenes footage if you wish to see Daniel in a more casual situation.” Damian regretted going straight to the next concert rather than doing his due diligence on digital information gathering, at the time he had felt rushed by the concert being only a couple days after his discovery.

Drake was already pulling a laptop from some hidden place while Gordon rolled over to his side of the couch, her own phone in hand.

Father stood and came to stand next to Damian, an arm reaching across his back to rest on his far shoulder. “Would you like to talk? About Daniel?”

“I believe I have given you quite a shock, do you not need time to digest the information?”

Father shrugged, “Likely, but we all know if I’m left to my own devices I’m going to just start digging and not come up for air for three days.”

“Yes, anything to prevent you from spiraling, Master Bruce.” Alfred smirked at Father before turning his attention to Damian. “I understand why you did not inform us of Master Daniel sooner, thank you for letting us know now.”

Damian nodded, glad he did not have to explain himself on that part.

“Too easy,” Drake crowed as the TV sputtered to life with one of the private videos.

Daniel and his bandmates were sitting on folding chairs in an otherwise empty space, likely an on stage rehearsal. On screen the recording of Daniel hopped up onto a folding chair, “May I have your attention, please! All rise for the national anthem.” There were titters from behind the camera, but the other three members of the band all obligingly lumbered to their feet. Daniel took a deep breath, then started singing, his voice low and haunting even as he pulled his hand into a sloppy American style salute.

Seasons don't fear the reaper Nor do the wind, the sun or the rain We can be like they are

The other band members were laughing and hooting when Daniel started singing, but quickly fell in to join him on the chorus.

Come on, baby (don't fear the reaper) Baby, take my hand (don't fear the reaper) We'll be able to fly (don't fear the reaper) Baby, I'm your man La, la, la…

Daniel started laughing too hard to keep going. The other band members were laughing right along with him.

“C’mon, dipstick!” McLain’s voice came from behind the camera. “Have you no respect? Finish the national anthem!”

Daniel was laughing so hard he tumbled from the chair, though the short fall didn’t seem to do him any harm. He attempted to sing the second round of “la la la” from the floor, but was incapable through his laughter.

Damian looked up to see Father looking on fondly, smiling gently as the video came to an end. The others were smiling at the video as well, likely glad to see Daniel being happy and enjoying himself. Despite everything he’d been through he still found his own happiness.

And then Damian’s impulsivity had driven him away from the friends and happy life he had made for himself. Damian needed to find Daniel.

🎵🎸🎶

Danny, Sam, and Tucker were just hanging out in the latest hotel room after a long day on the road, just a pit stop between one concert venue and the next. They could just use portals, but for some reason Ember was insisting on the full concert tour experience, including greasy diners and sketchy hotels.

Danny collapsed onto his back on one of the beds, “Ugh, Ember has me practicing singing and playing at the same time by singing Anything for You,” Danny complained.

“Well, it’s your duet,” Tucker pointed out.

“It’s Frosty’s duet, I won’t be singing it when I re-debut. Besides, it’s such tripe, just the required slow song to cool things down before the grand finale.”

“So… re-debut with a new duet?”

“Avoid love songs this time,” Sam ordered from where she was hunched over a notebook at the hotel room’s desk.

“I think Ember has it stuck in her head a slow duet has to be a love song,” Danny scrunched up his nose at the thought.

“There are plenty of duets that aren’t love songs.” Tucker defended.

“Name one,” Danny said with a huff. “No really, I need examples.”

“Easy, there’s… uh…” Tucker blinked and trailed off, suddenly looking kinda scared. “What about… Mungoje- no… um… there’s always You’re the Top uh…” he started visibly sweating. “Anything You Can Do… oh! Somebody I Used to Know.”

“Ooooh! A break up song!” Danny liked that, it would definitely be something more along Ember’s whole image too.

“I’m Not Writing You a Love Song,” Sam offered.

“Not a duet, but a good example of something that feels like a love song without being one.”

“You could also go all in on the devotion, sing about how you’d die for her or something,” Sam continued. “Or sing about loving each other even after dying, real obsessive stuff.”

“Have Ember sing about wrapping my calcified heart in my own poetry?” Danny asked with a cheeky grin.

“Not my fault Mary Shelley invented romance,” Sam said with a sniff.

“I hate to say it, but Sam’s right,” Tucker added. “That would really fit the whole undead thing more.”

“They’re all great ideas, I’ll bring it up to Ember tomorrow when we do lessons.”

“Your re-debut as Phantom is going to be great,” Tucker said with a laugh.

“Yeah… Phantom,” Danny replied morosely.

Sam sighed, “I don’t understand why you won’t even brainstorm on possible name ideas.”

“It’s just!” Danny sighed and rolled over on the bed to look at Sam, “If I pick a new name I can’t use the logo you designed for me any more.”

“And I can design you a new one.”

“I know, and it’ll be awesome. But you worked hard on that first one, and it’s so… perfect. I’d hate to never use it again.”

“No one says you can’t keep the old logo too,” Tucker cut in before this old not-quite-argument could play out again. “One of the costume ideas was a jacket with patches on it, so put the DP on there somewhere.”

“Right at the top of the sleeve,” Sam suggested, pointing to her arm just below the shoulder joint.

“You can have patches for everyone, even. A skull and crossbones for Youngblood, a paw print for Wulf, a thirteen for Johnny.”

“A heart dripping poison for Kitty,” Sam said thoughtfully. She turned and started furiously scratching at her notebook. “Pandora’s helmet with four crossed swords behind it…”

“Pandora uses one single magic staff,” Danny said in a deadpan.

“Do Frostbite’s ice and bone arm, that’s rad as hell.” Tucker laughed to himself.

“Just don’t design anything for Spectra, I refuse to have her on my cool jacket.”

“So you’ll do the jacket?” Sam didn’t even look up.

“Yeah, I really like the idea. It’s a good way to keep my logo and little reminders of all my friends. You’ll do patches for yourselves too, right?”

“And Jazz,” Sam promised. “Val too, even. Red Huntress deserves her own logo.”

“Yeah, she does.” Danny rolled back onto his back and picked his phone back up, going to the notes app. “So I guess I can’t really use Phantom at all since I’m still hiding from the GIW and any connection to Amity Park.”

Tucker sighed, “Yeah, probably not.”

“And Ember has already vetoed any more ice or cold names.”

“Which is too bad, there are some killer ice puns out there.”

“Could always go with Great One,” Sam said airily, “that’s your yeti name.”

“Absolutely not,” Danny said with an upside down glare sent Sam’s way.

“Tyrant’s Bane,” Tucker suggested.

“Guillotine,” Sam gave her own suggestion.

“Imperial Coup.”

“Monarchy Ender.”

“Twenty-three stab wounds.”

“I didn’t even kill the guy, just put him back down for nappies.” Danny couldn’t help laughing. Any further banter stopped dead as Danny’s phone started buzzing and dinging. Danny sat up, “It’s Jazz.”

Sam and Tucker both turned to look at Danny, staying quiet as he answered.

“Hey Jazz, you okay?”

“Danny! Have you heard the news?” Jazz sounded excited, so hopefully it was good news.

“Not yet, hold on a sec and I’ll put you on speaker for Sam and Tuck.” While he put his phone on speaker, his best friends both moved to sit on the bed, surrounding the phone. “Okay, so what’s this news?”

“The Justice League is finally getting somewhere! Mom and Dad are on trial for supervillainy, the GIW is suspended while under investigation, and the anti-ecto acts are being repealed!”

“Oh shit!” “Really?!” “Finally!”

“Well,” Jazz hedged, some of her excitement dimming a little, “the GIW is probably going to be disbanded, so that’s good at least. But it turns out the anti-ecto acts are scattered over several bills working together. Apparently several pieces were hidden in environmental acts, probably betting on ecto being misread as eco. The big thing they’re trying to focus on first is all the legal definitions that are scientifically incorrect, like ecto-beings being non-sentient.”

“Yeah, I’d kind of like the government to acknowledge I can feel things,” Danny said with a hollow laugh.

“The other big news is the meta protection acts are getting expanded to include anyone from the Realms!”

“Danny!” Tucker was bouncing in place in excitement, “Danny you’re going to be legally protected!”

“Yeah,” Jazz agreed. “The meta protection act should supersede the anti-ecto acts. The main thing is that everyone from the Realms are going to be considered people now.”

Danny didn’t know what to say to that, it was… it was great! It was wonderful!

“So you keep saying everyone from the Realms, is that more than just ghosts?” Sam asked.

“Any kind of spirit, actually. Nature spirit, city spirit, spirits of the dead. Since the Infinite Realms are infinite it actually includes a lot, mostly it’s ‘the otherside of the veil’ and is also where fairies and elves and goblins live? And maybe demons and angels and some gods?” Jazz sounded less sure the more she said.

“Oh, nature spirits,” Sam said thoughtfully. “I guess that explains Undergrowth.”

“Something like that. Basically anything supernatural is getting lumped in all together. And also a few undead too, guess they’re using this as a chance to really expand things. From the way Wonder Woman was talking a lot of the magic users are upset this wasn’t done sooner.”

“Well considering that a few heroes have died and come back they were really leaving themselves open to be blindsided,” Tucker joked.

“It’s about time they stopped and considered actually doing what they promise to,” Sam grumbled.

“Danny,” Jazz asked in worry, “you okay?”

“I’m… legally a person.” Danny felt a little numb and kinda floaty, but he was pretty sure he was still on the bed.

“You’re legally a person,” Jazz said warmly.

“Hey,” Tucker said, “does this mean Phantom doesn’t have to be in hiding and you can use it as your stage name?”

“Just because I’m legally protected doesn’t mean all the people out for my head are going to suddenly stop. People do illegal stuff all the time,” Danny said.

“Yes,” Jazz agreed sadly before plowing on with steel in her voice, “but you shouldn’t have to hide anyway! If you want to be a ghost on stage then you should get to use your name.”

“It’s not like they wouldn’t recognize you anyway,” Tucker added.

“Plus, any former GIW agents that come looking for you won’t have government backing anymore. They might not even have access to any useful anti-ghost weapons.”

“I’ll think about it,” Danny said. “Later, for now I just want to enjoy this good news.”

“We should tell the others,” Tucker exclaimed.

“We should throw a party!” Sam scrambled off the bed and went digging through her luggage.

“Yeah,” Danny thought that was a great idea, “let’s throw a party!”

🎵🎸🎶

Time passed and life moved on, much to Damian’s annoyance. Daniel never resurfaced, not surprising when all Damian had was a single chance encounter after 8 years of hiding from The Demon. They couldn’t find any hints of how he managed to leave Midville, and no hints he was still there either. McLain was no better a lead, Gordon found she had had a few shows a couple years earlier, but all traces of it had been scrubbed from the internet. Likely her previous debut had been a humiliating flop and McLain wanted to bury it. Unfortunately for the bats whoever she got to do it was good, they didn’t even know where shows had been, let alone if it was where she had met Daniel. Gordon had set up a facial recognition program that was constantly scanning for Daniel, but all it ever turned up were false matches. It was frustrating, but it was beginning to look as though they would have to wait for Daniel to realize Damian wasn’t a threat and reach out to him.

Damian hoped Daniel would realize.

Father’s order came in, copies of every piece of McLain merch that had Daniel on it, including the duet as a single. On vinyl. Most of it was put on display in Father’s office in the manor, an acrylic “standee” ended up on his desk at Wayne tower, nestled in among the various photos of the family. When Damian saw it he wondered if Father’s employees had noticed it and if he’d explained who Daniel is to them yet. That would certainly be an interesting conversation.

Damian had also ordered a round of merchandise, even if most of it wasn’t displayed. The private videos had been downloaded and saved in various storage states to preserve them. Damian watched one from time to time, it gave him strange feelings watching Daniel be happy knowing he wasn’t living like that right now.

Damian hoped Daniel found new friends and another new life to be happy in. He hoped Daniel hadn’t gone and become a hermit somewhere to be so hard to find.

But all of that fell into the background as life continued. Summer was in full swing in Gotham, which meant miserably wet and hot days with barely any reprieve at night, and a population whose collective patience was at its shortest. Then school started, the weather finally cooled in the fall, Damian turned 15, and then another busy holiday season rolled around.

Damian wasn’t sure, but it seemed his family was specifically avoiding mentioning Daniel. It was understandable, they still had no idea where he had run off to, he couldn’t join them for the various holiday traditions they all partook in. When he asked Richard about it, he had told Damian that in these kinds of situations it’s better to focus on the people you are with than the people who can’t be there. As if to prove Richard’s point, Todd even showed up for a few of the holiday traditions.

And yet all Damian could think about was how every Christmas he’d ever celebrated had been without Daniel.

Then on Epiphany something happened. McLain announced a new tour in the spring, this one featuring a special surprise guest. It was all Damian could talk about at dinner that night. “Surely if she were just replacing Daniel’s role she would not make such an announcement.”

“Maybe, you said she lost a lot of fans when Daniel left?” Father asked. “It’s possible she feels highlighting the rest of her band may be a good PR move.”

“What are the chances it’s Danny with dyed hair and facial recognition obscuring stage makeup?” Duke asked jokingly.

“That would be utterly foolish,” Damian said with a sniff. “Daniel is smart enough to know better than to keep company with anyone he’s already been discovered with.”

“I don’t know about that,” Father said with a furrowed brow.

“Father, you’re not insulting Daniel’s intelligence!”

“No, no… not at all. But after you told us about him I don’t think any of us looked into Ember’s current doings too much. Bands usually have a lot of staff traveling with them on tours, and they usually don’t have photos taken of them. We couldn't find out much about her staff, it seemed she was paying them all under the table.”

Damian frowned, “Aside from their manager, I didn’t see any staff with McLain.”

“Well, it certainly won’t hurt to look into the staff working this new tour, just in case.”

“We should go to the new show either way, see who this special surprise guest is,” Duke said with a cheerful grin.

Damian did allow himself to make a sour face at that, sitting through the first show had been enough punishment.

“I will say, after paying so much attention to her I have grown a soft spot for Ember’s music,” Father said with a mischievous smile.

Damian did not want to go, but she was still their one and only connection to Daniel. “Very well, I will allow you to make the arrangements.”

Now time was passing with a goal, Damian found himself anticipating the coming spring break. It was foolish, he knew this likely wouldn’t lead to Daniel’s whereabouts, and yet the anticipation persisted.

When the night of the concert arrived Damian had found some of his family had chosen the most ridiculous clothes. Father was sensible, wearing his usual casual clothing. Damian, Cain, and Drake were all wearing the shirts from McLain’s previous tour, since they were available in their actual sizes. Richard and Thomas were also wearing the same shirt, but since it wasn’t available in a size that would fit them they had both altered the clothing by taking off the sleeves and seam ripping down the sides until the shirts gaped, like the ones worn while lifting weights at a gym. Todd chose to wear a shirt that actually fit him, though his was for a completely different band called The Grateful Dead, apparently it is a faux pas to wear a band shirt for the band one is seeing. Judging from how many other attendees were wearing either the previous tour shirt or the one with just McLain’s face on it, it’s not much of a faux pas.

The night went much the same as Damian’s previous McLain concert experience, neither improved nor worsened by his family’s presence. Although Todd kept making odd faces. Between songs he motioned them all to lean in close.

“There’s something going on with their voices, magic I think. Not sure what though.”

Ah, so it was magic that was used to spirit Daniel away when he was discovered. There was even a chance he had been learning it as well, it might even explain why they couldn’t track him down after.

“Alright, Easton!” McLain said loudly, earning a round of cheers from the audience. “You guys ready for the debut of a brand new song?” Judging from the way the audience cheered, they were. “Anything for you, my lovely fans.”

That earned a round of surprised gasps along with the cheers. The lights suddenly turned off and the audience hushed in anticipation. A spotlight came on, shining on McLain as she started strumming a slower song.

I, I just woke up from a dream Where you and I had to say goodbye And I don't know what it all means But since I survived, I realized

What followed was a bittersweet song about spending the end of the world next to her lover. It seemed morbid, but the sentiment all the sweeter for it. The song built in intensity as McLain wailed the chorus, then the song pulled back. A second spotlight came on, a new artist was strolling onto the stage.

Oh, lost, lost in the…

The rest of the line was drowned out by excited screaming from the audience, which was quickly hushed by the rest of the audience. The teenager that came walking up as he sang was playing a glittering, white, translucent guitar that looked to be imitating ice. He was wearing a black jacket covered in colorful patches over a black shirt, silver belt, and loose black pants tucked into silver combat boots. Most notably his hair was pure white and seemed to defy gravity while his eyes were such a bright green they could be seen even in the audience.

The pair sang together, trading off lines in the chorus or harmonizing when they sang together. The effect was certainly haunting, but most haunting of all was just how familiar the new singer’s voice was. Damian glanced at his family to see them all staring at the stage with similar focus, clearly thinking the same thing as Damian.

It seemed whatever magic or cosmetics Daniel used to change his appearance couldn’t be done to his voice.

Thomas was going to be insufferable.

A large screen at the back of the stage lit up and words appeared. Phantom and McLain held their hands out to the audience, who started singing along.

If the world was ending, I'd wanna be next to you If the party was over and our time on Earth was through I'd wanna hold you just for a while and die with a smile If the world was ending, I'd wanna be next to you

As the song wound down Father leaned down to whisper into Damian’s ear, “I’m glad I sprung for the backstage experience after the show.”

“We’re not deviating from the plan,” Damian responded.

“Yes, of course.” Father straightened back up and clapped along with the audience once the last note played.

The audience screamed, “Phantom!” loudly from behind them. Damian turned to find a portion of the audience jumping in place, holding up signs with what seemed to be a stylized D on them or the name Phantom scrawled across.

Daniel, presumably Phantom, looked shocked. He put a hand up to shield his eyes against the now brightly lit stage lights. “Is that…?”

“Surprise!” McLain called cheerfully as she patted Daniel on the shoulder.

“Oh ancients, you guys!” Daniel was clearly struggling to keep hold of his emotions. He rallied with a bright smile despite his glittering eyes, “Where my Parkers at?”

The audience screamed, yelling phrases such as, “We love you Phantom!”

“I missed you guys too.” Daniel sniffled, but was smiling so wide it was becoming unsettling.

“For those of you who don’t know, this is our surprise secret guest: Phantom Dwarfstar!” McLain paused to allow the audience to express their excitement. “Now nothing and no one can replace Frosty McGee as a person, but Phantom here is taking his place in the band.”

“I was actually supposed to debut with Ember, but couldn’t until now.”

“And it’s great to finally have Phantom up on stage with us, right where he’s supposed to be. Let’s hear it one more time for our newest member!”

The audience cheered once more, most of it coming from the section that already knew him, it seemed the rest of the audience had mixed feelings about Phantom. A glance at Father showed him him frowning for some reason, clearly looking concerned.

Daniel smiled and waved, “Alright, enough about me. Let’s hear it for the real star of the show. Ember! Ember!”

As if on cue the portion of the audience that had been chanting for Daniel started chanting for McLain, the rest of the audience quickly picking the chant up as Daniel jogged over to join the rest of the band.

“Alright, you guys ready for Remember?!”

The rest of the show went on as before, save for Damian and his family keeping their eyes solely on Daniel. Once the show ended Father herded them towards the backstage, where their VIP experience would pay off.

“I would like to state for the record,” Thomas was saying, “that I called it. Bruce as my witness, right down to the bad dye job.”

“I dunno,” Todd replied, “I think the hair is legit. I’m pretty sure Phantom was doing some kind of magic with his voice too. The same kind of magic as Ember, but a different spell? I’m not really sure how to explain it.”

“It makes sense Daniel would learn magic if he took up with magic users,” Damian said stiffly.

“If we’re going to stick with the plan you need to use his stage name,” Father said softly.

Damian nodded. He knew what he had to do.

🎵🎸🎶

Danny and his friends were celebrating in the green room after the show. Danny felt… strange. Emotionally tired, physically pumped. Guess doing the show as a ghost really changed his stamina.

“I can’t believe you guys!” Danny said with a laugh.

“I give the best surprises!” Ember cackled, spinning in the air in delight. “The look on your face!”

“It’s amazing! Any clue on when they have to go back? It’s Saturday night…”

“It’s spring break, dipstick,” Ember mocked him. “They’re here until next weekend!”

Danny felt gravity’s hold on him slip away, the room growing brighter. “The whole week?”

“It took a lot of doing to arrange things like this, you better appreciate!”

Danny darted over and pulled Ember into a hug, “You’re the best, Ember!”

“And don’t you forget it!”

There was a knock on the door, Morty poked his head in. “The VIPs are here for their backstage experience.”

“Awesome!” Ember settled down on the floor, always excited when these happened. Danny was rather proud, he thinks it was one of his better suggestions. He moved to go perch on a nearby armchair while the zombies all leaned back on a couch.

Morty opened the door wide and in filed a group of people. Four absolute tanks of men, one guy who was just regular buff, and a woman. One of the tanks, an older man with gray in his hair, stepped off to the side while everyone else approached Ember for the meet’n’greet. Something about the older man looked strangely familiar. It wasn’t helped by the way everyone kept glancing over at Danny. At Phantom.

“And you are?” Ember asked the older man after meeting everyone else.

“Bruce Wayne, but I’m just here as the chaperone.” Which was an odd thing to say, everyone else was at least old enough to drive but half of them looked like full blown adults.

Ember seemed to agree, “You guys need a chaperone?”

“Not them, no. My youngest.” Mr. Wayne looked back, “Do you want to come out and say hello?”

Damian stepped out from behind Mr. Wayne.

Danny couldn’t help stiffening up in shock, looking between Damian and Mr. Wayne. He was paler than Damian, but the similarities were there. ‘So that’s where I get my eyes from,’ Danny found himself thinking.

Ember also recognized Damian, crossing her arms and scowling. “Oh, it’s you.”

“Hello, again,” Damian said blandly. “I simply wish to send a message to Daniel.”

Danny caught the way Damian’s eyes darted to him for a moment. Time to commit to the bit, “Ember, who’s this?”

“This is the guy who scared Frosty off,” Ember motioned to Damian. “And I already told you, we haven’t heard from him since he left.”

“Nevertheless, if he does contact you please inform him that Grandfather is dead and I left the League years ago.”

“WHAT?!” Danny couldn’t help shrieking, rocketing into the air in shock.

Everyone in the room turned their attention fully on him, including Damian. “Grandfather is dead, and I left the League years ago. I’ve been living with our Father.” He motioned to Mr. Wayne, who waved awkwardly.

Danny didn’t know how to react to that, didn’t know how to feel about that. His legs wisped into a tail before popping back to legs, a layer of frost coated the room then vanished. Danny looked over to Ember.

“Baby-pop I swear if you abandon the tour again!”

“No, no, of course not,” Danny defended.

“I’ve already bought so much merch, how can I brag about you to my board members if you drop out again?” Mr. Wayne asked.

Danny felt something in his brain break and couldn’t help giggling at that.

“How much longer is this going to take?” Dash’s voice came loudly yet muffled from the hallway. “We have an afterparty to get to!”

“Give them a moment, Phantom’s in the middle of a reunion with his birth family,” Morty snapped back.

“WHAT?!” Jazz shrieked. Oh, Jazz was here too! This was great! The door to the green room burst open, Jazz standing in the doorway. She leveled the Not-Fenton-Anymore Anti-Creep Stick at Damian and said, “You!”

“Jazz!” Danny zipped down and wrapped himself around her for a full body hug.

“Danny!” Jazz hugged him back, everything was right in the world.

“Ms. Nightingale,” Mr. Wayne said with a strained smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Bruce Wayne, Danny’s father.” He held a hand out, which Jazz ignored.

“It’s okay, they said Grandfather is dead and Damian’s not in the League anymore.”

“I’m assuming the League is the cult you were born in,” Jazz said with a fond sigh. She turned her attention back to Mr. Wayne. “How do you know my name?”

“I’m one of the Justice League’s backers, I like to keep abreast of their bigger projects. Finding out the US government nearly started a war with an entire dimension was quite the shock.”

Great, now Damian was going to look up everything to do with Jazz and find out all about everything.

Sam and Tucker slipped into the room and joined the hug. Okay, now for real everything was right in the world.

“So, how about that afterparty?” One of the tanks asked, Danny thinks he introduced himself as Jason.

“Can we come?” One of the other ones asked. “It’s okay if not, we can just exchange phone numbers, it’s a lot to take in.”

“No, afterparty’s fine.” It really was, Danny was actually pretty happy about getting his little brother back in his life, and he was super curious about his birth father. “You guys got a hotel for the night?”

“Wait, hold up,” Sam demanded. “Is that Bruce mother fucking Wayne?!”

“He did fuck my mother, thank you for reminding me,” Danny deadpanned.

“Danny!” Jazz snapped, accompanied by a relatively gentle smack to the back of his head.

“Hey, watch the piercings, those hurt!” Danny protectively put his hands up to shield his ears from any errant hands. The piercings may be fake, but only because he just straight up phased them into his ears.

“No, back up, you’re telling me Bruce Wayne is your bio dad?!”

“I literally just found out myself.” Danny sighed deeply, then squinted at Sam, “Wait, how do you know him.”

“He’s richer than Vlad and kinda famous for it.”

“Oh… gross.” It seemed Danny just couldn’t escape from money. Danny idly wondered what his too-rich-for-his-own-good secret underground lair was, couldn’t be worse than Vlad’s cloning lab or Grandfather’s afterlife sewage jacuzzi.

“To answer your question,” Mr. Wayne said with an amused smile, “yes, we do have hotel rooms booked for the evening. Though we can extend it a little longer if you’d like.” Mr. Wayne sounded so hopeful.

“I dunno, my friends are only here for spring break…” Danny looked towards the door, where the rest of his friends were waiting to start the afterparty. He could hear the rest of his classmates starting to get more and more impatient.

“We can arrange something later,” the second tank said brightly. “We’ll extend the hotel a day or two, exchange numbers, make some plans, and you’ll have the rest of the week to hang out.”

Sam scoffed, “It’s not like Gotham’s even all that far, c’mon let’s get going!”

“Gotham?” Danny asked, that seemed important for some reason, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it as Sam dragged him out the door. He had an afterparty to get to. He had a new life to get to.

#long post #super long just warning you #dpxdc #danny phantom #dc comics #batman #batfam #demon sibs #nenna writes #fanfiction #implied reveal gone wrong #implied vivisection if you squint #fanfic #it is done! *praises the sun*#dc x dp

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kousanosgf · 7 months ago

Text

men, minors dni

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　☽༓･*˚⁺‧

sevika x f!reader

you take care of sevika when both of you decide to spend the night at the club

tags: fluff, lap dance, oral (sevika receiving), fingering (sevika receiving)

an: was written while i was listening to my soft/chill tyla and rosalia playlist, keep it in mind for the atmosphere (⁠⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　☽༓･*˚⁺‧

the night was still young but the party was in a full swing. you were not yet drunk on the alcohol but the atmosphere and music made you euphoric. you were dancing for the past hour, the gentle beats of the drums, mbiras and xylophones, guitar string that jumped from upbeat to more sensual led your body. it was something you preferred more than the hard electronic noise of other clubs, which were more common in zaun.

though something or someone was missing. you left the dancefloor, making your way to the bar. a bartender nudged a glass of water your way and you took it in one swing, thankful to the woman.

hands captured your waist from behind, one real and the other mechanical, a body pressed close to your back.

"vika", you smiled and reached your hand back, sliding a palm on sevika's neck. "i'm all sweaty". you wrinkled your nose smiling.

"you often are when we're together", the woman whispered in your ear with heat but it only made you laugh. sevika was in your favorite drunk mood: touchy and blabbering sweet nonsense.

"missed you", she sighed heavily, like you didn't came here together. "well, someone could've dance with me". sevika only huffed out, grumpy, making you giggle again.

you signaled to a bartender for a new set of drinks. as you untangled yourself from sevika's grip you took the glasses, pushing one in her hand. "come on, baby", you moved away from the bar to the private booths, choosing one and closing the heavy curtains.

the booth was nice, muted colours, little trinkets hanging here and there, inviting soft and, mostly important for zaun, clean pillows. sevika plopped down on the seat, drowning in the cushions.

she was too quiet today, not that she would run her mouth nonstop in your or anyone else's presence, but definitely more quite than usual. "what's wrong?", you poked her gently in the side as you took your place beside her. she just grumbled in response. okay, so no reason really, you blamed alcohol for her attitude.

"did you watch me dance?", you try to get her mind out of the dark places. you put your knees under yourself to sit a little higher to be able to put your arm around her shoulders. she leaned into your embrace.

"barely. too much people", sevika answers, clearly sulking over the fact.

she never was the one to care for parties and definitely not participating in them, usually preferring some dimly lit bars and a long card game. but ever since you appeared in her life she made sure to follow you around to the clubs. "just care for your safety, princess", sevika would say. and that's a solid reason, zaun can be harsh on anyone, so noone would say no to a woman like sevika taking a role of a bodyguard. in this case though she loved seeing you move as if the dancefloor was your natural habitat, your home.

"been staring at me the whole night from your dark corner. people probably think you're some creep", you joked everytime later, when you went back home or moved somewhere private, like today.

"let me make it up to you", you untangle yourself from her and climb on her lap. sevika's real hand immediately gribs your thighs, running up to cup your ass cheek.

"no touching, babe. it's a performance." you smile and slap her hand away playfully. sevika frowns but doesn't try to do anything else.

you let your hair down, slowly dragging the hair band. the muffled music changed to something more slow, fortunately setting the right mood, you hummed the tune.

sevika's gaze was turning heated and hungry by a second, following your hands as they dragged on you body, starting with you hips, going up to your sides, to your neck, tangling in your hair and moving back, all while you swayed from side to side, making waves with your torso, coming closer and father to press against sevika's body.

"don't be mean", she whined under you after couple of songs, her fingers twitching in a need to touch.

and you were being mean, you knew that. you just couldn't help yourself to tease your girlfriend when she was so cute, all mushy and relaxed.

"told you, i'll make it up to you", you leaned closer, whispering in her ear.

the sound of a zipper opening is too loud. you can feel yourself on edge already. but this is not about you. you raise your eyes, looking over sevika's face. her eyes arr closed, she's breathing heavily. she's beautiful like that, she always is, really. but something about her soft expression, how relaxed she is under you awakens butterflies in your stomach.

her hands grip your waist as you move to stand up, holding you on her lap.

"come on, vika", you protest and push her hair out of her face. "if you want something, i gotta stand up". she let's you but complains while she does it.

you slide down on the floor, sitting on your knees now in front of her. sevika feels a tap on her hips and raises them to let you make a quick work of taking off her pants and underwear.

she's not wet enough yet, you notice as you slide your fingers between her folds but it's not much of a problem. you love taking it slow with her, spending all the time in the world leaving kisses and light bites on her inner thighs, while your hands roam around her body, squeezing her waist, feeling her muscles, your fingers traveling up and down the hair on her stomach.

"please" sevika whines and that's exactly what you were waiting for, that's how you know she's ready.

you move closer, though it feels like you can't be even more, skin touching skin. your fingers slide with ease inside of her and you feel like you're the one who needs to moan in pleasure. her pussy is hot, clenching around your digits.

"so good, baby. so pretty". you praised her because how could you not. sevika holds herself from moving too much so she wouldn't mess up the game you're playing, her hips staying in place but already trembling.

"don't even need to tell you what to do, yeah? always know what i want from you".

at last, as you move the tips of your fingers inside of her, you put your mouth on her. your tongue flat, you try to get as much as you can, starting from the place your fingers connect with her hole, going up, pressing on her clit and dragging it to her press. the sounds she makes are heavenly, sevika is so worked up she moans loudly, arching her back. you sure if anyone stands right outside the booth, they could hear it. it only makes you want her more, to make her scream that everyone in the club would know how weak she's for you. the woman who scares every thug on the streets of this city turns into a soft and whiney mess in your arms. that kind of power makes you dizzy.

you suck on her clit, hollowing your cheeks to put more pressure.

"wait", sevika breaths out.

"what's wrong, baby? already ready to cum?"

both of you want it to last so you give her time, withdrawing your lips and fingers completely and going back to caressing her inner thighs.

"gonna eat you out so good, gonna make you feel so good, vika."

her hands press on your head when she decides she's ready, guiding you back to her dripping cunt.

"need to promise me one thing, though", you smile as she nods without questions.

"look at me, 'kay? don't close your eyes."

you return to where you stopped. you try to be soft and careful at first, kissing her folds, occasionally flicking your tongue between them or pressing it on her clit, all while you hold her gaze. you smirk and huff out as her eyes remind you of some sad puppy, asking for more.

"fuck", she swears as you quicken you moves, getting messier. you can swear that's where you belong. between her thighs, squeezing your head so all the noise becomes muffled, like you're underwater, your tongue deep inside of her and your nose rubbing her clit.

it's cute, you think, how obedient she is for you, still trying to look you in the eyes, as you asked her, fighting the need to roll them back and just arch her back, leaning her head on the sofa back.

your face is drenched in her juices, few drops falling on the floor between your knees. you're so worked up, your panties are probably all wet but your pleasure isn't a top priority now. and honestly seeing sevika brake under your mouth is pleasurable enough.

as you feel her squirming and moaning more and more, you know she's close, so you put your arms under her knees and raise them on your shoulders. she never lets you do it while she still can control the situation, worried that it's too much for your smaller frame. but now sevika is going crazy with her own pleasure and you don't have to deny yourself.

it takes her couple more seconds to cum finally. her eyes roll back and she gives herself a moment of weakness as she throws her head back but quickly returns back to hold your gaze when she remembers your request.

you guide her through her orgasm, slowing your moves and letting go of her legs.

"relax, sweetheart", you laugh as you finally tear yourself from her pussy and climb back in her lap. your hand covers her eyes and you feel her eyelashes flutter, tickling your palm.

"you're a dream, vika."

sevika reaches for your lips and you meet her halfway through. the kiss is slow and sloppy, both of you need time to get some air and steady your breath. her cheeks now wet too. it does something to you, seeing her own juice on her face, makes you want more of her.

"fuck, vika. gonna destroy you when we get home. promise."

#sevika x reader #arcane #arcane netflix #sevika #sevika x y/n #wlw #lesbian

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vingtetunmars · 30 days ago

Text

Silver Springs

Pairing: Eddie Munson x F!Reader

Summary: Years after Corroded Coffin's rise to fame, the band's frontwoman and Eddie Munson — once lovers, now estranged — find their past echoing through every lyric and chord. After a bitter fallout tore them apart, a chance reunion at a music awards gala rekindles old wounds.

Epilogue

Tags: Lovers to Strangers to ???, angst, hurt/maybe comfort, possible second chances, Eddie's a bit of an ass but dw he regretted it, she'll follow him down till the sound of her voice will haunt him. No mentions of Y/N.

A/N: I was showering when Silver Spring came to shuffle, and I just had to barf it all out before I go down a spiral. If you have any requests, suggestions, or thoughts, feel free to send me a message. Reblogs are appreciated. Please do not steal or cross-post it on another platform without asking. Thank you.

Word Count: 3k

masterlist

1984

You were always louder than the amps.

Not in volume, necessarily, but in presence. In grit. In the way you stared down a crowd with that crooked little smirk before you opened your mouth and sang like the world had done you wrong and you were going to make damn sure it listened. You were all spitfire and heartbreak, leather and chipped black polish, and Eddie Munson thought you were the most electrifying thing to ever walk into his life.

He met you during an open mic night at some dingy bar in Hawkins — before Corroded Coffin was anything more than a few boys dreaming out loud. You stepped onto the stage like it was a throne, borrowed guitar slung over your shoulder, and sang something raw, throat-shaking, and holy.

You didn’t even look at him that night.

He looked at you like a revelation.

He said it first — because of course he did. Three beers in and high off your shared first rehearsal, sweaty and wild in Gareth’s garage with your voices cracking and your fingers bleeding.

“You know you’re trouble, right?” he said, lying on the floor, hair a mess, arm slung over his eyes.

You tilted your head, curled your lip into a grin.

“Only if you get too close.”

He got close.

You didn’t fall in love all at once. It was louder than that. Messier. A series of late-night drives in his van where you argued about song lyrics and made out between takes. Sharing old Walkmans and trading off headphones. Whispering melodies into each other’s mouths when sleep wouldn’t come.

“I love you,” he murmured into your hair one night, quiet as a secret, scared like it might jinx something.

“Took you long enough,” you whispered back, but your fingers were in his curls and your cheek was pressed to his chest, listening to the way his heart kicked.

Sometimes you’d be backstage, just before the lights hit, his hand squeezing yours. He didn’t need to say it every time — the way he looked at you said enough. Like you were the beat that kept time. Like you were the reason any of this felt real.

“You ready, sweetheart?” he'd ask, teeth flashing, eyes gleaming.

“Always,” you’d grin, adjusting the mic. “Don’t fuck up the solo this time.”

He never did. Not when you were singing.

You were chaos and stardust, he used to say. A storm in black eyeliner. The voice of Corroded Coffin, the girl who stood shoulder to shoulder with him in every photo and never flinched when the spotlight got hot.

It was good. It was so good.

And maybe that’s why it still lingers, even now — like the ringing in your ears after a show, like smoke on your clothes, like a song you wrote together that you can’t bear to listen to anymore.

But you’re not there yet.

Not quite.

Right now, it's still the early days. Fingers tangled in guitar strings. Eyes locked over crowded bars. Two kids in love, chasing noise and fire and fame, and thinking it would always be enough.

“I’m gonna marry you one day,” he whispered, voice hoarse from screaming and weed and maybe too much wanting.

“You better,” you breathed, and kissed him so hard your teeth knocked.

2003

Eddie Munson hadn’t thought about the band in weeks.

Not in the way he used to, anyway. Not with urgency, not with that gnawing need to make noise until the world listened. These days, it was contracts and appearances and the occasional reunion show when the money was good enough and the nostalgia ran deep.

Corroded Coffin had been something. Sold-out tours. Magazine covers. A platinum record that still hung on the wall in his home studio, half-covered by dust and a denim jacket he hadn’t worn in a decade. There was a time when they couldn’t walk down the Sunset Strip without someone yelling their names.

But that was a long time ago. And you? You’d been gone even longer.

He didn’t know where you were now — not exactly. He knew the cities. The setlists. The way your solo career took off like a lit fuse, how critics called you “a voice made of gasoline and god,” how the world found in you what he already knew. What he used to have.

Eddie didn’t listen to the radio much anymore. Too risky.

But the van was on its last legs, and the aux cable had finally died for good, so he was stuck with FM, flipping through static and commercials as he took the long drive up the coast. Maybe to clear his head. Maybe to escape it.

He was halfway through a sharp turn, Pacific glittering to the left, when it happened.

That voice.

Your voice.

Soft at first. Just a breath. Then a note — long and low, curling at the edges like smoke.

He gripped the wheel tighter.

He almost swerved.

It was that song. The one from your third solo album. The one the public picked apart like vultures, trying to find which lyric meant him. They never needed to guess. He knew. He always knew.

Because you wrote it the way you lived: no filter, no mercy.

He turned the volume down, but not off.

It was masochism, maybe. Or maybe it was penance.

You sounded older. Not in a bad way. Just… lived-in. Weathered. Like someone who’d survived the kind of love that scars.

And god, did he miss you.

Not just the you who kissed him backstage, or finished his sentences in interviews. He missed the fighter in you. The fire-eyed, foul-mouthed girl who spit lyrics like knives and made every stage feel like the center of the goddamn universe.

You’d burned so brightly. He should’ve gone blind.

Instead, he let you leave.

And now you haunted him in every melody, every lonely drive, every radio signal strong enough to carry your voice across the coast like a curse.”

He pulled over.

Parked at the edge of a lookout, engine ticking, chest tight.

He let the last notes play out. Let the silence settle.

You were still following him. Maybe always would.

And for the first time in a long time, he didn’t reach to turn the dial.

1998

It started with a song.

Like most things between you and Eddie.

Rehearsal had already gone long. Too many late nights. Too many new eyes on the band. The label breathing down their necks, looking for the next hit. The tour looming. The air thick with pressure. Eddie’s knee bounced restlessly on the amp he was sitting on, fingers tapping out a rhythm even though they’d been playing for hours.

You were standing at the center of the room, boots planted, mic cord coiled like a whip around your wrist.

“You’re flatting it again,” he muttered, not looking up.

You stared at him. “No, I’m not. I changed the phrasing — it’s intentional.”

“Well, it sounds off. The chorus loses punch. The whole hook feels—” He waved a hand vaguely. “—detached.”

You blinked. “It’s supposed to hurt, Eddie. Not everything has to be a punch. Sometimes people just bleed.”

Gareth, Jeff, and Doug exchanged glances, silent.

Eddie stood up. “You’re too in your head about this one. It’s a single. Not a therapy session.”

That was the first blow.

You flinched like he’d slapped you. “Is that what you think this is? Just me being sad with a guitar?”

“I think you’ve been turning every verse into a fucking diary entry,” he snapped, jaw tight. “And it’s getting old.”

Your breath caught.

“Oh, right. God forbid I actually feel something,” you spat. “Sorry I can’t be a caricature of your perfect riot girl fantasy anymore.”

It was personal now. Everyone knew it. They always danced around it, pretended the tension in the studio was just artistic friction. But the truth was—it hadn’t been just music for a long time.

You stepped closer, voice low. “You want a puppet, Eddie? Someone who’ll smile for the cameras and sing your lyrics and shut up when you take all the credit?”

His eyes snapped to yours. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Twist this into some goddamn betrayal.”

You scoffed. “That’s rich, coming from the guy who said I was nothing without this band.”

Eddie’s face darkened.

“That’s not what I said.”

“But it’s what you meant.” Your voice cracked then — barely. Just enough. “You don’t think I see it? How you’ve been freezing me out since LA? How every time I bring in a song it’s suddenly not 'Coffin enough'?”

“Because it’s not!” he shouted, finally exploding. “It’s you! It’s all you, all the time — it’s not a band anymore, it’s a goddamn solo project featuring the rest of us! And maybe—maybe that’s all you ever wanted.”

Silence.

Even the amps seemed to hum nervously.

You stared at him, eyes wide and stung. And then you laughed. But there was no joy in it.

“I begged you to work on that song with me,” you said, quiet. “I waited for hours while you got high in the parking lot. I covered for you when you forgot lyrics on stage. I believed in you when no one else gave a shit about this band, Eddie.”

He didn’t respond. Couldn’t.

“And all this time,” you went on, breath shaking, “you were just waiting for the moment I got too big for you.”

The silence stretched. Jeff shifted awkwardly, but no one spoke.

Finally, you nodded to yourself. Like the final note had hit.

You unwound the mic cord from your wrist, set it down gently on the amp beside you.

“Okay,” you said. No dramatics. No tears. Just finality.

You turned, grabbed your jacket, and walked.

Gareth started to move — maybe to call after you. Maybe to stop you.

But Eddie didn’t.

He didn’t say a word.

Not then.

They played one last show together.

Not officially — not that anyone knew it at the time — but everyone felt it.

The venue was packed, lights low and golden, the air thick with heat and screaming fans. But backstage, no one was screaming. No one was even speaking. Except for Gareth, maybe, trying to crack a joke that didn’t land.

You wouldn’t look at him.

Eddie kept his guitar in his lap, fingers picking a riff he didn’t even realize he was playing. The setlist hadn’t changed. The songs were the same ones they always played. But something else was loaded in the air, like stormclouds hiding just behind the amps.

And when they got to that song — the one you wrote about him, for him, against him — the audience felt it.

Every note. Every glance. Every sharp intake of breath.

It started with your voice — steady but biting, like you had something clenched in your teeth. You didn’t sing to the crowd. You sang at him. Your eyes found his, once, and didn’t flinch. The way your mouth wrapped around every lyric was more like a warning than a performance.

And when it came time for his part — the backup line that was never meant to be loud — he stepped forward into the mic.

He didn’t harmonize. He fought.

They weren’t singing anymore. They were shouting in tune.

Like every word was a dagger, every verse a memory dragged back from the grave.

It wasn’t just heartbreak. It was defiance. It was betrayal. It was two people who still loved each other in ways that hurt too much to hold.

And everyone saw it.

Even now, fans talk about that night like it was folklore. They say you could feel the stage crack under the weight of them. That it wasn’t music — it was a breakup set to distortion. That her voice had never sounded so sharp. That his never sounded so wounded. That you could watch their history bleed through every lyric, every gaze that almost met and then didn’t.

After the final chord rang out, she left the stage first.

No wave. No bow.

Just gone.

And the next morning, you were too.

Eddie would never forget the sound of your boots echoing down the hallway, or how you didn’t even take your leather jacket.

That performance would be the last time they stood side by side.

And the world wouldn’t stop replaying it.

2004

You didn’t want to be here.

The makeup, the flashbulbs, the champagne that tasted like coins. You hadn’t walked a red carpet in four years — not since the last album, not since you decided your voice didn’t need a face to haunt people. But your team insisted. A legacy award. A lifetime achievement thing. You weren’t even forty, but they called you iconic now, which usually meant still alive, but no longer a threat.

The dress was black. Sleek. Simple. You never liked frills. Your eyeliner was heavier than usual, a silent act of defiance. You stayed near the edge of the crowd during the afterparty, cradling a whiskey neat in one hand, eyes drifting between velvet curtains and industry ghosts.

That’s when he showed up.

One of those golden boys — platinum records, model exes, cheekbones sharp enough to slice through ego. He sauntered over like he’d won something.

“Didn’t think you were real,” he said, offering a smile like it was a business card. “Thought you were some kind of myth.”

You gave him a sidelong glance, unimpressed. “Disappointed?”

He laughed. A little too loud. Definitely a little drunk.

“Nah. You’re better than the stories.” He leaned in slightly. “But I gotta ask—what’s it take to get a legend like you to come out of hiding?”

You took a sip of your drink, slow. Let the silence stretch. He wasn’t used to that.

“A good reason,” you said flatly. “This barely qualified.”

His grin faltered for a second. Not enough to make him quit — just enough to make him recalibrate. He leaned against the wall beside you like he belonged there.

“You know, I used to have posters of you in my room,” he added, fishing for a reaction. “You were kind of my first heartbreak.”

You raised an eyebrow. “That’s unfortunate. You should pick better crushes.”

“I don’t know,” he said, trying for charming. “I’ve always had a thing for complicated.”

You tilted your head, something colder sliding into your expression. “Then you’d love my discography. It’s full of people who wanted the fantasy, not the fallout.”

His smile cracked then, just a little. You looked away, eyes drifting to the ceiling like you could ignore the glitter and the chatter and the weight of everything this place used to mean.

“Sorry,” he said, quieter now. “Didn’t mean to hit a nerve.”

You shook your head. “You didn’t.”

You just weren’t interested.

Because in the corners of your mind — even now, years and lifetimes and lovers later — there was still him.

The boy who played guitar like he was exorcising demons. The man who let you walk away because neither of you knew how to hold on without breaking everything else. The ghost you carried in every song, every verse that ended in silence instead of resolution.

And no amount of charm from a stranger could scrape that out of your chest.

“I should go,” you said, already walking away.

You didn’t look back.

And you thought of him.

Still.

Always.

You were across the room before he even realized what gravity felt like again.

Eddie hadn’t expected to see you tonight. He hadn’t even known you’d be here — nobody ever knew with you. You didn’t do red carpets anymore. No late-night talk shows. No surprise features or industry dinners. you voice stayed, sure — in soundtracks and charts and in his fucking head — but you youself? you had vanished from the public eye like a magician pulling off one last trick.

But there you were.

A black dress. A sharp line of eyeliner. Whiskey in your hand and that same steel in your posture, like no one could touch you unless you let them. Everyone else in the room blurred into wallpaper the moment you entered.

And god, you looked like something he used to pray for. Still did, sometimes, by accident.

He found himself walking toward you before he had time to second guess it.

When you looked up and saw him, your eyes didn’t widen. No gasp. No drama. Just a stillness — like something old settling into place.

“Didn’t think you’d show,” he said, once he was close enough to speak without an audience.

You sipped your drink. “Didn’t think you’d still remember me.”

He huffed a quiet laugh. “You wrote yourself into every radio. Kinda hard to forget.”

You tilted your head slightly. “That’s not what I meant.”

He nodded. “I know.”

A beat passed. The air between them felt almost too full to breathe.

“I heard your speech,” he added. “It was… good.”

“You mean short.”

He shrugged. “Poetic.”

You cracked a faint smile. That old kind — the one that didn’t show up in press photos or magazine spreads, the one only a few people in the world ever earned.

“It’s weird,” you said after a moment, softer now. “Being here. Letting people look at me again.”

“They never stopped,” Eddie said. “They just didn’t know where to look.”

You glanced around the room — not knowing how to react — then back at him.

“You still write?”

“Bits and pieces. Mostly for other people now.”

“That’s a shame,” she said. “You were always better when it was yours.”

“You still sing like you’re trying to save your own soul,” he said, and she looked away — like it hit too close.

You glanced at him then — really looked. Like you’d just remembered how.

“You hurt me,” you said. No venom. Just the truth.

“I know,” he said again. Softer. “I hurt me too.”

That surprised you — just a flicker in your eyes, like a memory resurfacing.

“I didn’t stop you,” he continued. “That’s what I’ve been stuck on for years. You walked, and I just… let you.”

You didn’t say anything.

So he kept going.

“I thought if I said something, if I begged you to stay, it would’ve made it worse. Like admitting how much I needed you would break what little we had left.”

“Maybe it would’ve,” you whispered. “But at least it would’ve been honest.”

He nodded, jaw tense.

“Do you regret it?” you asked suddenly.

“All the time,” he said without hesitation. “But not the music. Never the music.”

That made you smile. Barely. But it was there.

“I never said I was sorry,” he said quietly. “Back then.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“I did.” He looked at you, honest and wrecked. “I should’ve said something. Anything. I should’ve stopped you.”

your jaw clenched slightly. “I don’t know if I would’ve let you.”

“Maybe not,” he agreed. “But I still should’ve tried.”

Something in your face cracked then — just a flicker. Not pain, not anger. Just recognition. Like a ghost brushing your shoulder and whispering, you’re not the only one who remembers.

They stood there for a moment, years layered between them like sediment.

The gala hummed around them — clinking glasses, polite laughter, a distant jazz band trying its best.

Finally, you said, “I don’t know what this is.”

“Me neither.”

“But it doesn’t feel like nothing.”

He smiled. Not the stage kind. The old kind.

“No,” he said. “It never did.”

you finished the last sip of you drink, then set the glass down on a tray.

And before you turned away, before you left him standing in the hum of chandeliers and chance, you said—

“Maybe we start with a conversation.”

And he nodded, heart catching in his throat.

“I’d like that.”

A beginning. Again.

Maybe.

Epilogue

#kar's fics ☆#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fics #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things #eddie munson angst

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