#phantom offer tea

[zeeengris]

Birb want tea?

https://artfight.net/~SneJ

[lunamugetsu]

Danny is a house husband.

That's it, that's all it is.

As the years went on. Danny retired from being a superhero. There was no need for Phantom when the GIW were dealt with and all the ghosts were under control.

Now what's left for him to do but to just sit back, relax, and finally be able to live his life.

Sam and Tucker on the other hand....

Well, they had plenty of pent up rage, wits, and chaos inside their mind to become villains.

But they had one rule.

Never bring work home and to never involve Danny in any of their supervillain business.

Okay that's technically two rules, but they're kind of synonymous especially since Danny has been taking care of their house while also entertaining himself with trying new hobbies.

Tucker and Sam both make sure that they never bring any of their villainy home to Danny, because all they want is for Danny to enjoy his happy hero retirement.

And Danny in turn, doesn't bat an eye when watching the news and seeing that there were magical plants that were attacking sites that oil companies were digging or that somehow Lex Luthor had lost five hundred million dollars and had somehow leaked records showing he was building weapons of mass destruction.

He also doesn't bat an eye when he sees that Tucker had brought home a telescope that definitely looks like it came from some fancy lab because hey, Tucker was making him an observatory so he can look at the stars and planets. While also how they were able to make a great gaming pc with computer parts that are definitely not sold in stores, because hey at least the newest update of Doomed wasn't lagging.

Or that Sam comes home with various plants and animals that are definitely not from planet earth, but hey the three headed wolf-lizard-eagle- hybrid thing (that Danny has affectionately named Fluffy) is pretty great at keeping the pests away from his vegetable garden and likes to eat any of Danny's new food creations and is a great playmate for Cujo.

So you can imagine how the Justice League thinks when dealing with the pair of new villains: Upload (Tucker) and Sam (I could not think of a villain name that would suit her, so it's up to you what you think her villain name would be)

And how they were currently wreaking havoc in the city either by cyber warfare with robots or by magic plant monster or a Frankenstein of both approaches. The heroes had all evacuated the civilians from the battle zone and are currently fighting a losing battle. When they've been effectively captured and restrained by the two. Right before the villains could go into a monologue, they hear a person clearing their throat.

Everybody looks to see a 25 year old man wearing a sweater vest (he made it himself, thank you very much) currently holding onto the leash of a giant glowing green dog and some kind of giant animal hybrid. The man's arms were crossed and was currently not sporting a very happy look on his face.

Tucker and Sam (looking at Danny with hesitant smiles): Hi honey.

Danny (frowning): you missed our anniversary dinner.

Tucker and Sam both pale as they quickly realized what the date and time was.

The league all watch as Sam and Tucker immediately start apologizing to the man that just walked into a battle zone.

Danny (still frowning): Hmph! I guess since you two didn't want dinner you can go back to your little fight. Don't expect me to make you any lunches for the next month, and since you two are having so much fun here, you'll be sleeping by yourselves for the next couple weeks.

The league all watch as they were let go as Sam and Tucker yell as they run after Danny yelling apologies as he was walking away from them.

This is not the last they see of Danny.

When Danny is displeased with either of his partners, he'll invite a hero over to have lunch of afternoon tea.

[bodybaggage]

Ghostly Heir or Batty Custody?

DP X DC

———

The Justice League Watchtower was an advanced piece of technology, housing the world’s greatest heroes. But even in a place dedicated to protecting the Earth, some things were simply unavoidable—like gossip.

It had started innocently enough, as these things often do. Superman, having just returned from Gotham, was discussing the latest developments in the Batcave with Wonder Woman over a cup of coffee. The conversation was meant to be private, but when you have people like the Flash who can be in and out of a room before anyone notices, privacy is a relative term.

“So, Batman has another kid?” Superman had said, trying to keep his voice neutral.

Wonder Woman raised an eyebrow. “Another one? Are we running a daycare now?”

Superman shrugged. “Not sure. But he’s different from the others. White hair, glows a little. Bruce is being… secretive.”

“Bruce is always secretive,” Wonder Woman pointed out.

“Yeah, but this one seems—” Superman’s words were cut off as the Flash zoomed by, pretending to be busy with something else. The two superhumans exchanged a glance but said nothing more, knowing that once the speedster got wind of something, the whole League would know within the hour.

And they did.

Back in Gotham, Bruce Wayne—better known as Batman—was oblivious to the brewing storm. He sat in the Batcave, going over the latest reports on Gotham’s criminal activity with his usual intensity. Beside him, a ghostly figure floated lazily, occasionally glancing at the screens with mild interest.

Danny Fenton—known to most as Danny Phantom—had been in Gotham for a few weeks now, lying low while he figured out how to deal with some supernatural issues back in Amity Park. Clockwork had suggested Gotham as a good place to lay low, citing the city’s reputation for attracting all sorts of weirdos. Besides, Clockwork had argued, Batman wouldn’t care as long as Danny didn’t cause trouble.

And for the most part, Danny hadn’t. He’d stayed out of Gotham’s wayward criminal elements, kept his ghostly powers under wraps, and only occasionally wandered the streets at night to stretch his legs (or float, as it were).

Of course, he hadn’t counted on the Bat Family.

Damian had challenged him to a duel within minutes of their first meeting, insisting that he prove himself worthy of staying in the Batcave. Danny had countered by turning intangible and letting Damian tire himself out, which only seemed to frustrate the young Robin more.

Tim had interrogated him about the nature of ectoplasm and ghost powers, scribbling notes furiously as Danny tried his best to explain without giving too much away.

Jason had simply grunted, muttering something about “another brat” before disappearing on his motorcycle, while Dick had been the only one to offer a somewhat normal welcome.

“You’re like, what, the seventh kid Bruce has taken in?” Dick had said, clapping Danny on the back. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it.”

“I’m not staying here permanently,” Danny had replied, but Dick had just laughed, as if Danny’s words were the punchline to a joke only he understood.

Things had been relatively quiet since then—until now.

It started as a low hum, a barely noticeable vibration in the air. Alfred, the ever-watchful butler, was the first to notice something amiss.

“Master Wayne,” Alfred said calmly, setting down the tray of tea he’d just brought in. “We appear to have… company.”

Bruce looked up from the Batcomputer, his eyes narrowing as the hum grew louder, evolving into a low rumble that seemed to shake the very foundations of the Batcave. Danny, who had been floating upside down, lazily spinning in midair, suddenly snapped to attention.

“Please tell me that’s not what I think it is,” Danny muttered, his expression turning from bored to annoyed in seconds.

“I’m afraid I cannot,” Alfred replied, his tone as even as ever, despite the growing disturbance.

The rumble turned into a roar, and suddenly, with a burst of green light, a swirling portal opened up in the middle of the Batcave. The vortex crackled with energy, and from it stepped a towering figure clad in ghostly armor, a crown of ectoplasmic fire atop his head.

Pariah Dark, the Ghost King, had arrived.

“BATMAN!” Pariah’s voice boomed through the cave, rattling the glass cases that held the old Robin suits. “I, Pariah Dark, King of the Infinite Realms, have come to challenge you for the custody of my heir!”

There was a moment of silence as the words hung in the air. Danny facepalmed, groaning audibly. “This is not happening.”

Bruce, for his part, remained as stoic as ever, though his eyes narrowed as he assessed the situation. “Your heir?”

“Yes, my heir!” Pariah bellowed, his eyes glowing with ectoplasmic energy. “The boy you have taken into your care! I will not allow this—this mortal to usurp my claim!”

Bruce’s gaze flicked to Danny, who looked thoroughly unamused. “Is there something you forgot to mention?”

“Oh, come on!” Danny threw his hands up in frustration. “This isn’t what it looks like! I’m not his heir, and I’m definitely not up for custody!”

Pariah seemed undeterred by Danny’s protests. “You defeated me in battle, boy. By the laws of the Infinite Realms, that makes you my heir! And now this Bat-creature seeks to claim you as his own! I will not stand for it!”

Bruce’s expression remained impassive. “I’m not trying to claim him.”

“See?” Danny gestured to Bruce. “Totally not trying to claim me. So you can just go back to the Ghost Zone, Pariah. No custody battle needed.”

Pariah’s eyes narrowed, his fiery crown flaring. “The only way to resolve this is through combat! Batman, I challenge you to a duel for the boy!”

Bruce glanced at the portal, calculating the odds. “And if I refuse?”

“Then I will take the boy by force!” Pariah declared, raising his massive sword, which seemed to materialize out of thin air, crackling with ectoplasmic energy.

Danny floated down between the two, trying to keep the peace. “Guys, let’s just calm down. No need for a duel. I’m fine. No one’s taking anyone by force.”

Pariah looked down at Danny, his expression a mix of paternal concern and royal indignation. “Do not worry, my heir. I will defend your honor.”

Danny groaned again. “I don’t need my honor defended. I need you to stop making this weird.”

Before Danny could protest further, Bruce stepped forward, his voice as calm as ever. “Very well. A duel, then.”

“Seriously?” Danny looked at Bruce, incredulous. “You’re just going to agree to this?”

“If it ends the situation quickly, yes,” Bruce replied, his tone as dry as ever. “This isn’t the first time I’ve dealt with an overprotective guardian.”

Pariah raised his sword, clearly satisfied with the outcome. “Prepare yourself, mortal! I will not hold back!”

“Hold on, hold on!” Danny zipped between them again, clearly exasperated. “We don’t need to do this! Pariah, go back to the Ghost Zone. Batman, you don’t have to fight him.”

Pariah looked genuinely perplexed. “But… the honor of the Infinite Realms demands it.”

“No, it doesn’t!” Danny insisted. “The Infinite Realms don’t care about some weird custody battle! Besides, I’m not a kid, and I’m not staying here permanently! I’m just crashing for a bit!”

Pariah frowned, lowering his sword slightly. “You… are not staying?”

“No!” Danny said, exasperated. “I’m not staying! I’m not your heir! I’m just Danny, okay?”

The Ghost King looked around, as if trying to process this information. “But… you are under his care. It was reported by reliable sources.”

“Reliable sources?” Danny echoed. “Who told you that?”

Pariah seemed to hesitate for the first time. “A rather talkative sorcerer in a trench coat. He mentioned it while muttering about ‘bloody bats’ and ‘undead nuisances.’”

Danny blinked, realization dawning. “Constantine. Of course.”

Bruce’s expression remained unchanged, though there was a faint glimmer of irritation in his eyes. “This… Constantine has been spreading rumors?”

Danny sighed heavily, feeling more tired by the minute. “Look, can we just forget this whole thing happened? Pariah, you go back to ruling the Ghost Zone. I’ll handle Constantine. And Batman, you can go back to doing… whatever it is you do.”

Pariah Dark seemed to mull this over for a moment before finally lowering his sword completely. “Very well. But know this, boy—if ever you require my assistance, you have but to call.”

“Sure, sure,” Danny muttered. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

With one last, dramatic sweep of his cape, Pariah Dark stepped back into the swirling green portal, which closed behind him with a final, ominous crackle.

For a moment, the Batcave was silent. Then Danny turned to Bruce, looking both sheepish and annoyed. “So… I guess I should have warned you about that.”

Bruce simply nodded, his expression as unreadable as ever. “Next time, try to keep your interdimensional family disputes to a minimum.”

“I’ll do my best,” Danny promised, floating back toward the Batcomputer. “But with my luck, that’s not gonna be easy.”

“Luck has nothing to do with it,” Bruce replied dryly, already turning back to his work. “And tell Constantine to keep his mouth shut.”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Danny muttered, rubbing the back of his neck as he floated back to his usual spot, thinking about the supernatural messes that seemed to follow him wherever he went.

As the Batcave returned to its usual state of brooding silence, Danny couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, Gotham wasn’t the best place to lay low after all. But with the alternative being another encounter with Pariah, he figured the Batcave wasn’t so bad—at least, not until the next interdimensional incident.

[batsyheere]

Phantom doesn't trust the Justice League as far as he could throw them- which was a weird statement to make considering, so he might as well say he did not trust them.

First there had been the attempt to exorcise him. That had been done with some very obviously coerced members of Dark, who had eventually been stopped by a panicked Constantine who Phantom now had weekly tea with. (Because Danny needed more ways to defend himself outside of his ghostly abilities, and especially with the attention of the JL now focused on him. Constantine had not put up much of a fight, especially after that incident.)

Following that had been the JL's attempt at peacemaking and finally handling the Anti-Ecto Acts- which had simply sped up the work that Team Phantom had been working on since the majority of their group hit 17 and the threats were more human than ghost. Taking credit for the years of activism and appeal Team Phantom had already made efforts in had soured whatever they wished to gain.

Offering him a place within the teams of Young Justice or the Titans had been another layer of insult when they tried to pressure him into some sort of mentorship- Phantom very much was insulted by the implications that he needed any such help after the years of being left to fend for himself. And the implications that they thought they could control and observe him now.

The final straw was their invitation to join the Justice League itself.

"I don't know about you," Phantom drawls, tone almost apathetic as his head leans against his fist. He was hovering in the air, sat back in a pose his little sister often called his "I'm dealing with idiots and politics" posture. "But if I've repeatedly rejected and ignored an individual who asked for help, then ignored their requests to leave them be... well, I wouldn't assume they would wish to join your club and be pleased by it."

"King Phantom," Wonder Woman begins, one of the few who actually had any sense. She looks exhausted.

Another member, one of the Green Lanterns whose names Danny couldn't be bothered with after some rather volatile debates with the dead of Oa, cuts her off.

"Look, kid, you're being offered something most other heroes only dream of being offered-"

"Most other people have to be recommended or apply to join the League, or otherwise be ignored and left to handle situations such as a chunk of the Midwest sinking into the Infinite Realms through the directions of a tyrannical conqueror seeking to gain access to the mortal world."

Silence. There were a few winces, as well as a few heroes who were glancing nervously towards Superman who was frowning.

"Look, we've obviously made mistakes-" the man in blue begins. Phantom cuts him short as well.

"A mistake is dismissing a call about ghosts as a prank," he states. "A mistake is making assumptions based off the research of science and believing it to be true."

He sat up, crown flaring above his head with frost as the temperature in the room dropped.

"What you have done is blatantly allow a government to persecute and prepare acts of genocide, while ignoring the evidence and pleas of the people you swear to protect. You then proceed to ignore the word of those who have stood the line of defence and resolve the matter without any representation of the voices that fought long enough to be heard."

"What would you have us do."

It was Batman who spoke up. While not his favorite member of the League, Phantom could appreciate the fact that the man had been left out of most of the formal decision making on these matters- even Amity Park had heard of the strange mass outbreak of Arkham residents spilling into Gotham- something that had not happened in quite a while. It had kept Batman and his associate busy enough to keep away from League business, in an effort to keep the chaos contained to Gotham's borders.

But Batman had many issues and Phantom had very little care for them.

"At this time? Move on. The situation is handled, and those who have not screwed up diplomatic matters are informed and may keep contact. We want no further ties to the Justice League or it's members at this time."

[buttercandy16]

The Landlady

PAIRING(s): Landlady!AgathaHarkness x Tennant!Reader

SUMMARY: New place, new beginning, and strange nights.

WARNING(s): Non-Con, Dub-Con, Stockholm Syndrome, Somnophilia, Manipulation, Breastfeeding Kink, and other Dark Themes

A/N: Just exploring some kinks that I find interesting.

The room was small but cozy, bathed in warm hues from a Persian rug and a few old-fashioned lamps that gave off a golden glow. The walls were lined with bookshelves stuffed to the brim, their spines worn from years of use. It felt inviting, charmingly cluttered, and smelled faintly of lavender and something richer—something earthy and intoxicating.

"This is the space," Agatha said, gesturing toward the spare bedroom as she turned to face you, her smile like a velvet trap. Her dark hair was swept casually over one shoulder, and her blouse clung in all the right ways, accentuating her confidence and an air of playful mystery.

You felt impossibly out of place, standing in her perfectly curated home with your battered suitcase and freshly broken heart. Your ex’s harsh words still echoed in your mind, but you pushed the memories aside, forcing a small smile. “It’s perfect.”

Her smile widened, and she leaned against the doorframe, a spark of amusement in her piercing blue eyes. “Perfect, hmm? High praise. I’ll take it.”

Her flirtation was subtle, but it didn’t escape your notice. Since you’d replied to her ad, she had been effortlessly charming, her wit sharp but never cruel. At first, you’d been nervous about moving in with someone so... magnetic. She was older, sophisticated, confident in a way that left you fumbling for words. But when Agatha leaned into that confidence—throwing in a wink or letting her hand linger on yours during mundane moments—it left your chest tight and your cheeks warm.

You blamed the tiny crush forming in the back of your mind on the turbulence of your breakup. Agatha couldn’t possibly see you that way—her endless flirting was surely harmless.

Wasn’t it?

For the first few weeks, things felt easy. Agatha proved to be an ideal roommate. She shared her carefully prepared meals with you, the kind that were always spiced just right. She kept the kitchen spotless, offered advice when you sheepishly confided about your ex, and filled the silence with laughter when the weight of your heartbreak threatened to pull you under.

The only odd thing, you’d noticed, were the nights.

You began waking up feeling... strange. As if you were buzzing, every nerve in your body unusually sensitive. Your dreams grew more vivid and peculiar, filled with a phantom warmth you couldn’t quite explain. Fingers tracing your skin, soft breaths grazing your neck, whispers you couldn’t make out. And every time you woke, you felt flushed, your heart racing, the sensation too tangible for a mere dream.

At first, you shrugged it off as residual stress. The breakup. The move. It was a lot to process, after all. But then, strange details started to pile up. You’d wake with your blankets slightly askew or your shirt riding up your stomach. Once, you swore you smelled Agatha’s perfume on your pillow—the same lavender and musky hint you could only associate with her.

It was easy to dismiss at first. Coincidence. Sleepwalking. Overthinking.

But the feelings lingered—tingling warmth along your neck, an ache in your chest you couldn’t place, as if you were missing something you didn’t understand.

What you didn’t realize was that your dreams weren��t dreams at all.

Agatha sat perched at your bedside every night, thankful to the drug she slipped in your evening tea, ensuring you stayed in a deep, pliant sleep. Her fingers trailed softly over your cheek as she watched you, her expression caught between tender admiration and raw hunger.

“You’re so sweet when you sleep,” she murmured one night, her voice a low whisper meant only for your unconscious ears. Her hand brushed the strands of hair from your face, and she let herself indulge, pressing her lips to your forehead in a possessive kiss.

Each night, her touches grew bolder. Her fingertips ghosted down your arms, tracing invisible lines along your skin as though she could draw you closer to her even in sleep. Sometimes, she let her hand linger at your waist, feeling the steady rise and fall of your breath as you laid helpless beneath her gaze.

“You don’t even know how much I’ve longed for this,” Agatha whispered another night, her hand curling into a fist briefly before relaxing again. “Every sigh, every smile—it’s all mine now.”

Her lips found your neck one night, brushing the sensitive skin just below your jaw. Her teeth grazed the spot lightly, her body trembling with the restraint it took not to leave a mark—a sign of her claim that only she would know was there.

“I’ll have all of you soon,” she promised, pressing a kiss to your ear. “And when I do, you’ll wonder how you ever lived without me.”

Agatha didn’t just visit you out of obsession—she believed this was her way of grooming you, breaking down your resistance bit by bit. She’d made sure you found her ad, planned every detail of your arrival, and watched with satisfaction as you settled into the life she’d so carefully orchestrated for you.

Her nights of devotion were her reward.

Every brush of her fingers, every whispered promise, was a secret she kept just for the two of you—a bond you weren’t even aware existed.

Unaware of what happened after you closed your eyes each night, you started noticing subtle shifts during the day.

Agatha’s glances lingered longer, her touches more frequent—a brush of her fingers against your wrist as she handed you a mug of tea, the way she smoothed your hair absentmindedly as you passed on the couch. Her presence was overwhelming, intoxicating, but part of you began questioning the growing pull between you two.

You told yourself it was just her confidence, her charm—nothing more. But the strange feelings, the dreams, and her piercing gaze lingered, leaving you flustered, confused, and vulnerable in a way you couldn’t quite name.

You had no idea just how completely Agatha already owned you.

Life with Agatha grew more perplexing as the weeks passed. Your days blurred together in a haze of shared laughter, casual touches that lingered too long, and the peculiar warmth that bubbled beneath the surface every time she looked at you.

Yet, the nights still held the strangest weight.

The dreams persisted, each one more vivid than the last. You felt her hands—a phantom presence sliding over your skin, stroking your hair, tracing patterns along your exposed arms or stomach. Whispers filled the spaces between sleep and waking, soft murmurs that sent shivers racing down your spine even as your mind clung stubbornly to its unconscious state.

More and more, you awoke tangled in your sheets, your heart pounding as if you’d run a marathon. And every time, you felt her presence—Agatha’s scent lingering on your pillow, the faint impression of a figure beside you that vanished when your eyes opened.

One morning, as you sat across from her at breakfast, picking at the edge of your toast, you caught her watching you again. There was something almost predatory in her gaze, as though she were savoring a secret you weren’t yet privy to.

“Sleep okay, darling?” she asked, sipping from her mug.

You froze for a moment, your hand stilling midair as you reached for your coffee. “I—I guess,” you stammered, your cheeks heating under her scrutiny. “I keep having these... weird dreams.”

Agatha tilted her head, curiosity feigned but expertly calculated. “Weird how?”

You shrugged, unsure of how much to share. “They just feel... real. Like someone’s in the room with me.”

Her lips quirked upward in a knowing smile, the corners of her mouth curling like a cat playing with its food. “Do they, now?”

You nodded, unsure if you imagined the flicker of amusement in her eyes.

“Well,” she said after a pause, “maybe it’s just your mind adjusting to a new space. Moving in with someone new can bring out all sorts of feelings. Don’t worry about it too much, sweet thing.”

Her words were meant to reassure, but something about her tone only made you more uneasy.

That night, as you lay curled beneath your blanket, exhaustion threatened to pull you under, but your nerves kept you teetering on the edge of wakefulness. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was coming—something you couldn’t escape.

It wasn’t long before you fell into a deep, fitful sleep, lulled into submission by a strange comfort you couldn’t explain.

The dreams came swiftly, vivid and disorienting. But this time, the touch wasn’t as ghostly, as faint. This time, it was clear—unmistakable.

The room was thick with the scent of lavender and something darker, something primal. The moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting long shadows across the bed where you lay, your body limp and pliant under the weight of Agatha’s doing. She sat perched on the edge of the mattress, her fingers trailing lazily over your exposed skin, her touch feather-light but deliberate. You were deep in the throes of drugged sleep, your breathing slow and even, completely unaware of the violation unfolding around you.

Agatha’s lips curled into a wicked smile as she leaned over you, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders like a curtain. “Such a sweet little thing,” she murmured, her voice a low, sultry purr that sent a shiver through the room. Her hand slid beneath the hem of your shirt, her fingers brushing against the soft skin of your stomach. “So innocent. So perfect.”

You stirred faintly, a soft whimper escaping your lips as her touch grew bolder. Agatha’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction as she watched your body respond to her, even in sleep. She leaned down, her lips brushing against your ear. “Shh, darling,” she whispered, her breath hot against your skin. “Mommy’s here. Just let me take care of you.”

Her hand moved higher, cupping your breast through the thin fabric of your shirt. She squeezed gently, her thumb brushing over your nipple, coaxing it to hardness. You moaned softly in your sleep, your body arching into her touch, betraying the pleasure you couldn’t consciously acknowledge. Agatha chuckled darkly, her fingers slipping beneath the fabric to tease your bare skin. “That’s it,” she cooed, her voice dripping with possessive affection. “You’re so good for me, aren’t you? My sweet, helpless little thing.”

Her other hand slid down your body, her fingers tracing the curve of your hip before slipping between your thighs. You gasped in your sleep, your legs parting instinctively as her fingers found the warmth of your core. Agatha’s smile widened, her touch growing more insistent as she explored you, her fingers slick with your arousal. “Look at you,” she murmured, her voice thick with desire. “So wet for me already. You don’t even know what’s happening, do you? But your body knows. It knows who it belongs to.”

She leaned down, her lips brushing against your neck as her fingers worked you, slow and deliberate. “You’re mine,” she whispered, her teeth grazing your skin. “Every part of you. And I’m going to make sure you never forget it.”

Her fingers curled inside you, drawing a soft cry from your lips as your body clenched around her. Agatha’s breath hitched, her own desire flaring as she watched you writhe beneath her touch. “That’s it,” she breathed, her voice trembling with need. “Let go for me, darling. Let mommy make you feel good.”

You moaned again, your hips rocking against her hand as the pleasure built, your body responding to her even in the depths of sleep. Agatha’s lips found yours, her kiss deep and possessive as she claimed you, her tongue sliding into your mouth. She swallowed your cries, her fingers moving faster, pushing you closer to the edge.

When you came, it was with a shuddering gasp, your body trembling as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Agatha held you through it, her lips never leaving yours, her fingers drawing out every last drop of your release. When you finally stilled, she pulled back, her eyes dark with satisfaction as she gazed down at you.

“Such a good girl,” she murmured, her voice soft and adoring. She leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

Agatha’s lips lingered on your forehead, her breath warm and heavy as she pulled back just enough to admire your flushed, trembling form. Your body was still twitching faintly from the aftershocks of your forced release, your chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths. She smiled, a predatory gleam in her eyes as she shifted her weight, her hands moving to the buttons of her blouse. One by one, she undid them, revealing the pale swell of her breasts beneath. Her nipples were already hard, pebbled with arousal, and she let out a soft, satisfied sigh as the cool air brushed against her skin.

“You’re so perfect like this,” she murmured, her voice low and honeyed, dripping with a sickening sweetness. “So soft. So pliant. Just the way I like you.” Her fingers trailed down your cheek, her touch almost tender if not for the possessive hunger burning in her gaze. “You don’t even know what’s happening, do you? Poor thing. But that’s okay. Mommy’s here to take care of you.”

She leaned down, her breasts brushing against your face as she guided your head to her chest. “Open up, darling,” she cooed, her fingers slipping into your mouth to part your lips. You stirred faintly, a soft whimper escaping you as she pressed her nipple against your mouth. “That’s it. Just like that. Take what mommy’s giving you.”

You resisted at first, your body instinctively recoiling from the intrusion, but Agatha held you firmly in place, her will overriding your own. She tutted softly, her fingers tightening in your hair as she forced you to latch onto her. “Don’t be difficult,” she chided, her voice sharp but still laced with that sickening sweetness. “You need this. You need me.”

The moment your lips closed around her nipple, a shudder ran through her, her breath hitching as she felt the pull of your mouth. “Oh, yes,” she moaned, her head tipping back as she rocked her hips against the bed. “Just like that. Such a good girl for mommy.” Her fingers tightened in your hair, holding you in place as she ground herself against the mattress, her own arousal building with every suckle.

You whimpered around her, the taste of her flooding your mouth. It was too much, overwhelming, but Agatha didn’t care. She only moaned louder, her free hand slipping between her thighs as she worked herself to the rhythm of your suckling. “That’s it,” she panted, her voice trembling with need. “Take it all. Drink up, darling. Mommy’s got so much to give you.”

Her fingers moved faster, her hips jerking as she chased her own release, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. “You’re mine,” she hissed, her voice breaking as she came, her body shuddering violently. “Mine. Every part of you. You’ll never escape me.”

When she finally pulled away, her chest heaving, she looked down at you with a satisfied smile, her fingers brushing over your lips. “Such a good girl,” she murmured, her voice soft and adoring. “Mommy’s so proud of you.” She leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead before settling back against the pillows, her arms wrapping around you in a possessive embrace. “Sleep now, darling. Mommy’s got you.”

“I’ll protect you. Love you. No one else will ever know you like I do. No one else deserves you.”

“I’ll make you understand,” Agatha promised, pressing her lips to your temple.

When you finally woke hours later, the room felt heavier, the air clinging to you like a second skin. Your hands trembled as you pulled back the blanket, noticing how it seemed to cling to the faintest remnants of warmth that didn’t belong to you.

You sat up, your heart hammering in your chest. Something was wrong.

Dreams didn’t leave bruises.

As you pulled your shirt down to get dressed, you caught sight of something in the mirror—a faint, purplish mark high on your neck, near the hollow of your throat. Your breath hitched, panic surging through your veins as you stared at the spot.

No.

It wasn’t possible.

You clutched at the mark, your mind racing to explain it. Maybe you scratched yourself in your sleep. Maybe you leaned against something. Maybe—

“Morning,” Agatha’s voice called from the hall, making you jump.

You quickly yanked your shirt higher, covering the mark as she entered the room with her usual confident air, carrying two mugs of coffee. She handed one to you, her fingers brushing against yours in that deliberate way that made your stomach flip.

“You look flustered,” she noted, her eyes sparkling with amusement as they lingered on your throat for a moment too long.

“I’m fine,” you lied quickly, your voice shaky as you avoided her gaze.

Agatha’s smirk widened. “Oh, I’m sure you are, sweetheart,” she said, her tone dripping with knowing. “I bet you slept like a dream.”

The weight of her words sent a chill down your spine.

She knew.

The tension between you and Agatha was palpable, but it wasn’t just in the way she looked at you. It was in every gesture, every word. Every moment she seemed to linger just a bit too long, or touch you just a bit too much.

You tried to push the thoughts away—tried to focus on your work, to put the strange sensations and the feeling of being watched out of your mind. But it was impossible.

You found yourself growing increasingly disoriented, as if the boundaries between dream and reality were starting to blur. The nights were the worst—especially since waking up feeling flushed and disheveled had become an unsettling routine. Sometimes, it was only the sound of Agatha’s low, comforting voice that pulled you from the fog, telling you everything was fine. “You’re just adjusting,” she’d say with a knowing smile. “New place. New rhythm. It’ll settle.”

But it didn’t settle. The weight of the mark on your neck, the growing feeling of being watched, gnawed at you. The marks started to appear more often, always just out of view—hidden beneath your hair or the collar of your shirt—but you could feel them. It was as if Agatha had claimed you, and no matter how much you tried to fight the idea, your body betrayed you.

You could feel her eyes on you constantly, even when she wasn’t in the room. And sometimes, when she was there, it was like the air itself thickened, charged with something you couldn’t understand. The room seemed smaller with her in it, her presence overwhelming, magnetic, like the pull of gravity itself.

It was a Thursday night, and you didn’t take your evening tea. This time, the restless energy felt different—it was as if your skin was too tight, the weight of your thoughts pressing down on you in a way you couldn’t escape. You tossed and turned for hours, but it wasn’t until the soft sound of footsteps in the hallway that you knew.

She was coming.

Your pulse quickened, and you swore you could feel your heart beating in your throat. Agatha’s presence was undeniable.

The door creaked open, and her silhouette appeared in the doorway, framed by the dim light of the hallway. Her expression was unreadable, her gaze trained on you with such intensity that it made your breath hitch in your chest.

“Agatha…” you whispered, the sound thick with a mixture of dread and something darker, something you didn’t want to acknowledge.

She stepped inside without a word, her soft shoes making no noise on the floor. She didn’t need to speak; her mere presence was enough to still the room, to still your mind.

“You don’t have to pretend anymore,” she said softly, her voice the perfect balance of sweetness and something far more dangerous. Her fingers brushed against your hair, a touch so tender it almost made you lean into it. “You know what’s happening. You know what I’m doing.”

Your throat tightened. “What are you talking about?” you tried to ask, but it came out like a plea.

Agatha smirked, moving closer, her body language predatory, her movements slow and deliberate. She gently cupped your face in her hand, forcing you to meet her gaze. “Don’t play coy with me, darling. I’ve given you everything. I’ve been here, every night, for so long...”

You couldn’t pull away from her touch, and though you wanted to shout, to run, your body didn’t listen. You felt caught in her web, helpless to escape. The mark on your neck still burned faintly, a constant reminder of her claim.

“I’ve been patient, haven’t I?” Agatha murmured, her voice dripping with satisfaction. Her thumb ran over your lower lip, the touch so soft, it made your head spin. “But now… now I think you’re finally starting to understand.”

Her lips parted, and before you could react, she closed the distance between you two. Her kiss was slow, methodical, and almost unbearably tender. You should have pulled away. You should have screamed. But instead, you melted into it, the heat of her body overwhelming, pulling you deeper into the spell she’d been weaving.

Agatha broke the kiss with a soft chuckle, her lips hovering just over yours. “You’re mine now, sweetheart. Completely mine.”

The weight of her words settled in your chest like a stone, and as she smiled, a cold shiver ran down your spine. There was no escaping this—no way out. Agatha had been preparing you for this moment, molding you with every touch, every whisper, every night. And now, in this quiet, shadowed room, the truth was undeniable.

She leaned in again, this time her breath hot against your ear. “You’re going to beg me for more soon. I’ll make sure of it.”

You woke the next morning with your head pounding and your body aching in ways you couldn’t explain. Your skin felt too sensitive, like every nerve was firing at once. You blinked a few times, your vision blurry, trying to make sense of the hazy memories that danced at the edges of your mind.

Your neck throbbed where the mark had been—had it always been there? You glanced into the mirror, but the spot was gone. Still, the lingering sensation remained. The faintest trace of her lips, her hands, as though she’d marked you in a way that no physical mark could explain.

You pulled your shirt down quickly, but it wasn’t enough to hide the feeling that something had changed. Something fundamental. You were different now—changed. And it wasn’t just because Agatha’s kiss had stolen all your breath, or because her words still echoed in your ears.

It was because you wanted it.

You wanted her.

The days after that night were nothing short of a blur. The haziness of sleep deprivation and the strangeness of your own body’s responses left you walking around in a fog. But the fog wasn’t just in your head—it was in every room, in every corner. Agatha’s presence lingered everywhere, like a scent you couldn’t wash away, no matter how hard you tried.

The subtle touches were still there—her fingers brushing your wrist when handing you a mug, her breath too close to your ear when passing by. But it wasn’t just her touch that affected you now. It was her gaze. Her eyes followed you, studied you with an intensity that felt like you were being stripped bare, analyzed, and claimed in ways that made your stomach churn and your heart race.

You couldn’t escape it. You didn’t want to.

It was late afternoon when Agatha cornered you in the kitchen. You were drying dishes, your hands still trembling slightly from the events of the previous night, when she casually leaned against the doorframe, watching you.

"You seem distant today," she said, her voice lilting with a mix of concern and amusement. "You haven't been yourself lately."

You glanced up quickly, feeling an electric charge run through you as her eyes met yours. "I’m just tired," you said, but even to your own ears, the excuse sounded hollow, forced.

She smiled softly, a quiet understanding settling in her expression. "I think it’s more than that, darling." Her eyes flicked down to your hands, where you gripped the dish towel a bit too tightly. "You’ve been... distracted. Like something’s on your mind."

You opened your mouth to protest, to deny it, but her gaze held you captive. Her voice dropped lower, smooth and seductive. “I think you know exactly what’s been on your mind. Don’t you?”

Your heart fluttered, an irrational warmth spreading across your chest as her words sank in. “I—” You froze. You couldn’t lie to her anymore. She knew.

“You’re thinking about last night,” she continued, stepping closer, her heels clicking softly against the floor with each step. “About what we did. What I did to you.” Her breath brushed your ear, sending an involuntary shiver through your body. “And you want more, don’t you?”

Your breath caught in your throat. You opened your mouth, but no words came out. The truth—however uncomfortable it was—was right there in the air between you. You did want more. You did. And you hated yourself for it.

“Just say it,” Agatha purred, her lips brushing the sensitive skin of your ear. “Say it, and I’ll make it all go away. Or rather, I’ll make it all come true.”

“I—” You shuddered, a desperate gasp escaping your lips. “I want you.” The admission was soft, but in that quiet kitchen, it felt like a bombshell.

Agatha smiled then, a slow, satisfied curve of her lips. “I knew it.” She stepped even closer, her hand brushing your cheek, her thumb stroking over your lips in a slow, deliberate motion. “You don’t have to be afraid anymore. I’ll take care of you. Always.”

Her lips were on yours before you could react, soft and insistent, and for a moment, all the noise in your head vanished. All the doubts, all the fears—they were gone, drowned out by the overwhelming sensation of her mouth on yours, her hand on your waist, pulling you closer.

It wasn’t like the soft, tentative kiss from the night before. This was something deeper—more consuming. Agatha’s kiss was possessive, hungry, her tongue sliding into your mouth with a certain urgency that sent a jolt through your body. You kissed her back, unable to stop yourself, your hands grasping at her shirt, feeling the heat of her skin through the fabric.

Her hands roamed, exploring the contours of your body, leaving a trail of fire wherever they touched. You moaned softly into her mouth when she cupped your breast, squeezing gently. It was enough to make your knees feel weak, to make your chest tighten with desire.

“You’re so beautiful,” Agatha whispered against your lips, her voice raw and thick with need. “I’ve wanted you for so long. And now, you’re mine. All of you.”

From that moment on, there was no turning back.

The nights grew more intense, more charged with an unspoken tension that neither of you could resist. Agatha took full control—no longer subtle with her touches or her words. No more drugging you. Every night, she came to you, claiming you piece by piece, until your very bones felt like they belonged to her.

But it wasn’t just in the darkness of the night. During the day, her presence haunted you, her eyes never leaving you, her touch always just a second away. She was always there, in every quiet moment, in every shared glance, in every brush of her fingers across your skin.

She’d been patient, waiting for you to surrender, waiting for you to come to her on your own. And now that you had, she was determined to make sure you never left her side.

One night, as you lay in bed, tangled in the sheets after another heated, desperate kiss, Agatha gazed down at you, her fingers tracing idle patterns on your skin.

“I’m going to make sure you never forget who you belong to,” she murmured, her lips brushing against your collarbone. “I won’t let anyone else have you. Not after everything I’ve done.”

The words hit you like a blow to the chest, and though part of you wanted to run, another part—one you couldn’t quite control—felt a twisted sense of relief. You wanted this. You needed this.

And in the quiet of the night, with Agatha above you, holding you with a possessiveness that almost scared you, you knew deep down you weren’t the same person anymore.

You had become hers.

_-_-_

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[blackenedsnow]

Hi, I really like your writing and I hope you're doing ok. Can you write the werehog finding the reader awake at nighttime because they've been struggling with misophonia and didn't tell anyone? (Personally I do this because there are less triggering sounds at night and I can focus more than in daytime) and maybe the next morning they go out together to buy earplugs or stress toys? Thank you!

silent nights

WARNING: Misophonia (sound sensitivity, coping struggles), mild self-isolation themes

PAIRING: Sonic the Hedgehog x Reader

NOTE: Hi there! <3 Thank you so much for this thoughtful and heartfelt request. I love how personal this feels. I hope you enjoy this (and that it feels like a warm hug)! Take care of yourself, and thank you for trusting me with this idea. You’re amazing!

SUMMARY: After a particularly overstimulating day, you sneak out of bed in the middle of the night, desperate for the peace and quiet that daytime rarely offers. Unbeknownst to you, Sonic isn’t much of a sleeper either.

The house was still, save for the quiet creak of the floor beneath your socks as you tiptoed down the hall. Nighttime had become your haven, an escape from the overstimulation of the day. No buzzing conversations. No clinking dishes or distant hums of appliances. Just the comforting stillness that let you think and breathe without interruption.

You’d tried to sleep earlier, of course. Curled up in bed, eyes squeezed shut, but the phantom echoes of daytime noise lingered. Every shuffle of fabric, every faint creak of a settling house, grated against your nerves until you couldn’t take it anymore. So here you were, sitting at the kitchen table with nothing but the hum of the fridge for company.

It was better this way. Or at least, that’s what you told yourself as you nursed a mug of lukewarm tea, staring out the window at the quiet, moonlit street.

“Couldn’t sleep either, huh?”

You nearly jumped out of your chair, heart leaping to your throat as a deep, gravelly voice broke the silence. Turning quickly, you found Sonic—or rather, the large, furry form of his Werehog self—leaning casually against the doorframe.

“Geez, you scared me,” you muttered, clutching your chest as your heart tried to calm down.

“Sorry,” he said, padding into the kitchen on. “Didn’t mean to sneak up on ya. You okay?”

You hesitated, fiddling with the handle of your mug. You hadn’t told him—or anyone—about your struggles with misophonia. It felt hard to explain, harder to share, and you didn’t want to sound… difficult. “Just… couldn’t sleep,” you mumbled. Not a total lie, but not the whole truth either.

Sonic tilted his head, his fluffy ears twitching. “Y’know, I’ve pulled that move a lotta times. ‘Can’t sleep’ really means ‘something’s on my mind.’ Wanna spill it?”

You glanced away, unsure how to put it into words. But Sonic didn’t rush you. He just grabbed an apple from the counter and sank his sharp teeth into it, waiting patiently as he leaned against the wall. His presence was calming in a strange way—big and protective, but not overbearing.

Finally, you sighed. “It’s… the noise. During the day. It’s just too much sometimes, and I can’t deal with it. At night, it’s quiet, and I can think. I just… didn’t want to bother anyone with it.”

Sonic stopped chewing, his ears flicking again as he studied you. Then, without missing a beat, he plopped down across from you at the table, resting his chin on his massive hand. “That’s not bothering anyone,” he said, voice softer than you expected. “That’s you trying to survive. And you don’t have to do it alone.”

Your throat tightened at his words. You’d braced for teasing or dismissal, but Sonic didn’t seem interested in either. His expression was sincere, almost protective, as if he was already running through solutions in his mind.

“Tell you what,” he said after a moment, his usual grin creeping back. “Tomorrow, we’re gonna hit up some stores. Grab you some earplugs, noise-canceling stuff, whatever helps. Maybe one of those stress toy things—y’know, the squishy ones that look like donuts? Those are fun.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound soft but genuine. “You’d get me a squishy donut?”

“I’d get you a whole box if it’d help,” Sonic said with a wink, leaning back in his chair. “But only if you let me have one. Deal?”

“Deal,” you said, feeling a warmth in your chest that hadn’t been there before.

The next morning, true to his word, Sonic dragged you out to a small shop in town, his Werehog form now replaced with his usual blue self. The trip was surprisingly fun, with Sonic cracking jokes and making a game out of testing every stress toy in sight. He even modeled a pair of comically oversized earmuffs, earning a snort of laughter from you.

By the time you got home, you felt lighter. Armed with a bag of tools to help manage the noise—and that squishy donut stress toy in hand—you realized that maybe you didn’t have to handle everything on your own. And with Sonic around, it was a little easier to believe.

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC prompt. Granny al Ghul

Ra's al Ghul believed that there were no former members of the League of Assassins. Maddie understood that perfectly, but it didn’t make her any more prepared when she saw her father.

"Hey, are you my favorite sweet grandpa?" Danny, who noticed his mother freezing in fear after opening the door, immediately stood in front of her. "Want to hug?"

"It was you again! I know for sure." The head of the league hissed in anger. ''Get out!"

"But this is my house." Her son shrugged his shoulders and smiled in a strange snide way. "Do you want me to show you my room or do you want me to chew a cookie for you? You look totally senile. Even your feet can’t hold you."

Ra's Al Ghul was shaking with rage. "Don’t play dumb, I know you’ve been tinkering with water in my Lazarus pits." "They are part of the nature reserve of the Ghost Zone." Danny was rightly outraged. "Write your name on them even a hundred times, they will not be yours."

"But you’ll get a fine for vandalism. You’re lucky I didn’t report you to the authorities." Danny threatens grandpa with his finger. "But it’s only because we’re family, you know?" Ra's frowns but stops arguing. "Would you like a cup of tea?" Danny’s offering a truce. Ra's sighs. "Well, I wouldn't say no."

~~~~~

"Do you like your drink?" Danny asks, pouring grandpa more green tea with milk. "Disgusting." The head of the League of Assassins answers sincerely. "Good." Danny’s smiling like a gremlin. "Hey, do you want to see an album with photos of baby Danny, Ra's?" asks Jack, who doesn’t notice the tension around. "No." Maddie was sitting there with her eye twitching for the last 40 minutes. "I would like to see a family photo album, Madeline." Ra's, who saw an opportunity to embarrass his insolent grandson, did not want to lose it.

~~~~~

"For the last time, why should I participate in this abomination?" Ra's stared angrily at his grandson pushing him into the classroom.

"Come on, grandpa, you saw my photo from kindergarten with a piss on my pants." Danny looked at him, batting his eyelashes.

Ra's rolled his eyes."And why does it mean I have to join this circus?"

"We’re definitely family now! And I promised Mr. Lancer I will take on Career Day this year anyone but not mom or dad. I’m definitely not gonna call Vlad. So that leaves you." Danny pushed him again.

The guard at the Demon's Head got nervous, but Ra’s hand stopped him. "I did not agree."Grandpa moved one of the swords to Danny’s neck.

Fenton just brushed it off with a frown. "Come on, tell everyone a little bit about your plans for immortality and world domination. Maybe I’ll be interested in being your heir then. I promise to listen carefully!"

~~~~

"The most important thing in educating your minions is control. They must feel an absolute fear of your authority." The inspired Ra's continued his speech after the bell. Lancer was taking notes. Tucker looked at it.

"I don’t like it, guys. I stick to the good old-fashioned disciplinary measures, you know?" Techno geek whispered.

"Well, I’m totally fine with it." Danny, who had noticed that after a fascinating lecture about the most effective tortures Dash was sitting two desks further away from him, showed his grandfather fist with the thumb up.

~~~~

"I changed my mind, I’ll kill him." Danny roared, running around the stadium after his thirtieth lap. What idiot from the school board took his crazy grandfather’s advice about organizing extra fitness classes? Next to him Wes fell to the ground. "Do it, Phantom. Avenge us." The boy wheezed at the last breath. "No distractions, five more laps!" Ra's stood on the field with the hand fan. "This bastar-r-rd." Danny roared furiously. "What? My favorite grandson wants to run another ten? Well, I can’t say no, right, coach?" Demon's Head yelled.

~~~~

"You know, it is really nice to take a vacation sometimes. I feel an unprecedented surge of strength." Ra’s reached out to Mr. Lancer standing next to him. "Would you like to meet for coffee sometime?"

"How about Friday, around 7:00 p.m.?" Mr Lancer looked at his schedule. "No, I’m busy at this time." Ra's sighed with regret. "We have a ritual sacrifice scheduled for six p.m." "You have a great sense of humor, my friend." Mr. Lancer laughed. "Who knew Mr. Fenton had such an intriguing and well-read grandfather. You’re full of surprises, Mr al Ghul." ~~~~ Damian, sitting on the roof of Casper High, lays down his binoculars and sighs. "Yes, mother is right, grandfather finally lost his mind." "Well, I’m glad you noticed too." A voice filled with relief rang very close. "Who’s here?" Damian took out the katana. "Um, boo?" Void’s voice answered.

[aether-starlight]

Mending - Zayne

Pairing: Zayne x Reader

Warnings: None.

Word count: 1k

Summary: Grandma and Caleb’s absence is hard on you. When you find yourself in the emergency ward, Zayne shows up with a helping hand.

Zayne was the one to break the news of Grandma and Caleb’s passing to you.

The memory was a blur, a concentration of words that blended one into the other until they became a whole different language.

You hated to admit that for a moment you had wished you had gone with them. Then you wouldn’t have to feel so alone.

Burying yourself in missions and textbooks had come as easy as breathing afterward. The less time you had to spare, the less you thought about them.

It gave you a sick kind of relief not to have to remember your Grandma’s voice or her delicious cooking. The scent of her home or the wrinkles from smiling that framed her eyes.

Forgetting Caleb’s easy laughter and the weight of his arm draped over your shoulders felt infinitely easier than knowing you wouldn’t have it ever again.

Until the day came when working wasn’t enough. Missing them had become a phantom pain you could not get rid of.

Your poor sleep schedule and foggy mind caught up to you, and it was a little surprise that you ended up in the emergency ward.

It was pure carelessness, the way you had disconnected yourself from your body, how you hadn’t felt the graze of claws until you were slammed into your back.

Now you were bandaged up — with a dislocated shoulder—, and trying to remain focused as a nurse asked you if you had consumed any kind of sedative or psychoactive substance.

“I didn’t.” Your voice managed to crack in between those two words.

The nurse eyed you doubtfully, tracing the dark circles beneath your eyes and the fisted hands tightly pressed to your lap.

“I can take it from here, thank you.” A familiar voice broke through before she could inquire further.

“Zayne,” you called, feeling some of the tension upon your shoulders wane.

He pushed the curtains to your section closed, stepping until his thighs were a breath away from your knees.

Your foolish heart sped up when he leaned down until your eyes were at the same level.

He smelled like usual, something fresh and light, a trace of soap and lavender beneath the hospital’s antiseptic.

“I think I recommended that you rest and maintain good sleep hygiene as you recover.” He paused, assessing your reaction. “I believe I also suggested for you to see a grief counselor before returning to the field.”

You cleared your throat, forcing your voice to not come out as weak as it felt.

“I did. Go to the counselor, that is.”

“What about sleeping?” It was a futile question, for you both knew the answer.

“I can’t help it if it’s hard for me.”

You closed your eyes, furious at how defeated you sounded.

Zayne’s voice became softer, his hand pressing into your uninjured shoulder.

“Nightmares?”

You nodded.

“Look at me.”

When you opened your eyes there was no judgment in his face. You almost would dare say he seemed worried.

“You went through an extremely traumatic experience. No one would blame you for needing help.”

Your eyes stung.

“What help could you give me?” It wasn’t necessarily hostile, if anything, your tone was curious.

Zayne let out a slow breath, pulling back, face clouded with contemplation.

“My shift is over. Come with me.”

At your widened eyes, he hastened to add: “We’ll talk. Have a cup of tea. It will help you regulate your emotions and promote the release of serotonin, necessary for sleep.”

The ghost of a smile pulled at your lips. Zayne had a peculiar way of being sweet without meaning to.

“Okay.”

“I can’t sleep.” You mumbled into the dark.

After hours of talking it had gotten quite late, and given your arm predicament, you were unfit to ride your motorcycle back home.

Zayne had kindly offered for you to sleep in his bed and was now on a futon beside it.

“What’s on your mind?” He asked, patient as usual.

“Things I don’t want to remember.”

The deafening sound of the explosion, the ringing in your ears afterward. Caleb’s last smile to you, and glimpses of your home blazed alight.

You closed your eyes as if that could stop the memories from pouring in.

“Can you come here, please?” You asked, feeling incredibly small. It wasn’t a feeling you cherished.

Zayne sighed lightly, but it wasn’t exactly annoyed.

“Alright.”

He laid carefully beside you, leaving a proper space between your bodies.

Your hand automatically reached forward, intertwining your fingers with his.

His hand was cold, but it felt nice, a break from the heated panic you found yourself in lately.

“Do you want to discuss it?”

“I don’t think I can.” You said honestly, then whispering: “I don’t want to break, Zayne.”

His hand tightened in yours.

“You’re not breaking. You are mending.”

A small smile cracked through your lips.

“Thanks. I hope so.”

A heartbeat passed before Zayne spoke again.

“What if…?”

“What?”

He shifted in place, turning so he was looking at the ceiling instead of you.

“Forget it.”

“Zayne.”

He sighed, knowing you wouldn’t let it go.

“What if we do that mindfulness exercise your yoga teacher taught you? The one you showed me.”

You smiled lightly.

“I’d like that.”

“Alright,” he murmured. “Close your eyes.”

“You’re supposed to cover them with your hand, silly.”

He huffed a small laugh.

“So impatient.”

Any mirth vanished from the air when he shifted closer, until your side was pressed to his chest.

“Are you comfortable with this?” He asked.

You nodded, adding in a quiet: “yes,” for good measure.

Zayne’s lips hovered close to your ear, breath fresh and just a bit cold. The mint of his toothpaste sent a shiver down your spine.

He smelled more of lavender and less of antiseptic now, his pajamas’ shirt soft against your arm.

When his hand covered your eyes, you let out a soft breath.

“We are children and you are coming home from school. We run into each other,” he whispers. “I approach you and treat you to something sweet…”

That night no nightmares come for you.

When you wake up, Zayne’s hand is cradling your cheek.

[thenightwolf51]

So i originally had this idea when i reblogged this post by @saphushia but i wanna just seperate it out as its own little prompt.

A quick context is that Danny seems to be roaming around Gotham like some homeless cryptid, kinda Bus to Nowhere style but with more vigilante interaction and casual offerings of first aid. And the batkids are keeping their adoption bait First Aid Cryptid(tm) secret from Batman.

One set of tags in the reblogs from @little-pondhead caught my attention

I came up with both funny answers and an angsty answer for that "#why?" but here's the angsty one (though i promice i actually envision it to be more hurt/comfort with a lot of family fluff)

Actual Prompt⬇️⬇️

Something happens, maybe a reveal gone wrong, maybe he got capture by the GIW, maybe he lost Jazz and his parents somehow.

Whatever it is, it leaves Danny with a need to escaped to a new dimension which just so happens to end up being the DCU. He winds up in Gotham and is just trying to start over, easier said than done but at there's plenty of heros around so he doesn't need to go ghost and he can still patch up the local vigilantes to feed his obsession. He's just not up to being Phantom yet and he's still recovering from whatever happened in Amity, whether it be mentally or physically.

Plus these vigilantes are kinda fun to mess with. Danny can practically see the gears turning as they try to put together and make sense of his little "lore drops", that Red Robin almost reminds him of Wes in a way.

Its not like he really needs to hide anyways. There's no GIW here, no Anti-Ecto Acts, if it really comes down to it he could probably pass as meta and fall under those protection laws. Judging by Signal, Danny's pretty sure Batman's bluffing on the whole "hating metas" thing anyways.

It takes awhile before Danny actually does meet the big bat himself and the reaction he gets is nothing anyone was expecting.

You see theres one little detail danny couldn't have been warned about, and its that there just so happens to be a version of Jazz here.

Except this Jazz lost her Danny when they were in high school, as in full on dead and gone Danny, no halfas here, the portal simply did not work and it was just regular ole lethal electrocution that hit her little brother.

What if she grew up with a young Bruce somehow, whether it be because CPS took her from the Fentons after her Danny's death or Amity Park simply doesn't exist in the DCU making Gotham the city with the thinnest veil and thus where the Fenton's chose to settle down.

This Jazz is an adult in her 40s but was once a kid smart enough to go to Gotham Academy on scholarship (or maybe the Fenton's had enough money from patents?). A kid who took one look at young Bruce's grumpy little face and decided he needed a honest friend, one that wasn't after status or money.

This Jazz grew up being a secondary voice of reason for Bruce, ganging up with Alfred in their own crusade to enforce healthy habits on him in between their weekly tea sessions.

This Jazz lost her brother and could not only understand Bruce's resoning on a minor level but encouraged his planned "journey of self discovery and healing". (Though the bat costume he made when he came back was unexpected and she gave him a look to rival Alfred for it)

This Jazz grew up to be a social worker because if anyone had cared enough to take her away from the Fenton's sooner then her brother might've still been alive

This Jazz being the one Bruce calls when he first gets Dick because holy shit he has no idea what hes doing and "Jazz, i just became a father, help!"

This Jazz being a sort of aunt to all the Batkids and is a major influence that has led to their dynamics being similar to Wayne Family Adventures

Bruce goes pale and later calls Jazz after he finally gets a glimps/meets the so called "First Aid Cryptid" his kids have been obsessed with. Because this kid that he's looking at with the barely visible lichtenberg scars... that's a face he hasn't seen in little over 20 years, that's his old friend's long dead baby brother.

Bruce sees danny and his mind rapidly jumps to all sorts of possibilities. Is this a clone? Is this a trap? Are the Lazarus pits involved somehow? Time travel? He does consider a ghost but this kid is too solid and they're nowhere near the old dilapidated Fenton Works building

Eventually, down the line when they get the full story of Danny being from an alternate dimension, Jazz might try to adopt him. Which has potential to be unhealthy but i fully believe Jazz would be aware enough not to project her decades old grief on this Danny, who is so similar but so different to her brother.

(Because I think a Gotham raised Danny would've been similar to a young Jason in street smarts so this Amity raised Danny is noticeably different)

Danny on the other hand... not sure if i could say the same, especially if he just lost his Jazz before winding up in the DCU. But again, this is an adult Jazz in her late 40s with professional experience dealing with traumatized kids, and she'll do her best to help him through it

Im imagining Jazz and Bruce to have a more platonic friendship, maybe even see each other as family, but you could go with Parent Syndrome if you want

(And because i love to see other peoples ideas and opinions, @omnicrafts @ailithnight @atiyasnake @hdgnj @nelkcats @nerdpoe @im-totally-not-an-alien-2 @dcxdpdabbles. Sorry i tag you guys so much but i like your writing, im eager to offer ideas, and your posts have been major sources of joy while ive been hyperfixating on DPxDC)

[yuri-is-online]

Trey seeing you like his teasing and bullying, don't tempt the man. He's barely hanging on.

the following is a rough concept? warm up? from a long fic I have been writing on and off for months now. the context is that Trey is sick and Yuu has decided to bring him food before Riddle can kill him w/ Lilia on the assist.

Nothing too explicit... yet. yet

"Seriously." You sigh, focusing on the container and... quivering. Your arms are straining against the containers unintentional vacuum seal, did you run over here to see him as soon as you heard about him fainting? Or were you just too... he doesn't want to say stupid even though it catches in his throat along with his saliva when he sees you roll your lower lip under your teeth and grunt. "It's tight." Yes, something is, wound so tight it ought to snap.

"Need some help?" His voice is uncharacteristically breathy, as is the directness of the offer, and he thinks he can make out disappointment. A phantom strength allows him to sit up as his eyes narrow to let him see just that much better; he tries focusing on your teeth, it's the left canine that's denting your lip. It pushes in as he moves forward, threatens to pierce the flesh. The lump in his throat goes down as he floats more than moves up from the bed, resting his weight against his night stand.

"No." You bring the soup up to your chest before immediately bringing it back down. How silly of you, it must be really hot. "I keep telling you, I'm not doing this because I need you-" Trey moves his arm around to your other side, resting it on his desk and delighting in how clear your surprise is now that he has his glasses on.

"How kind of you." Your tongue peaks out to lick your canine and draws his attention back to your lips. Trey likes your lips, they're so... expressive. Uncontrollable, no matter how much you try to hide how much you want to have him around your lips always give you away. "But you've got to be doing this for some reason." Right now they purse, hooked on his bait and unaware of the line as he leans just a bit more forward crowding you closer to the desk. "That's just how this school works." Your lip trembles. Three more teeth peak out of your mouth and Trey can't even be bothered to list the numbers in his head to distract from where the blood leaving his head is going. He wants to bite down, sink in his own teeth in place of yours and suck-

"Trey!" Thank the seven you put thought to put the food behind you before you went to catch him, Trey's heavy even if you only have to push him back over to his bed which thankfully isn't that far. "You're supposed to be resting." You snatch his glasses from his head before he can even manage to react but he doesn't seem to upset. He wiggles his head back into his pillow, and looks in your vague direction as you finally manage to pop the damn lid off the soup and try to convince yourself the heat hurting your face is from the steam and not your own stupid feelings. "I'll set this over here and get some tea."

"Make some for yourself too." You think you hear him say as you walk on out in a daze.

Trey closes his eyes and tries to take a deep breath without hating himself too much. Something is wrong with him, that's got to be the correct explanation for this.

[haveihitanerve]

And When You Go Away

Batman and Nightwing did not work together frequently. That wasn’t to say they didn’t see each other. Or interact. It was hard, really, as they both worked with the Justice League now, to avoid the other. Just as it was hard, for Bruce at least, to pretend like they were mere acquaintances. Barely colleagues, hardly friends. Definitely not family. Not since Bruce had messed it all up. It hit him especially hard at times like these, when lives were on the line, and everyone was called to action, and Nightwing stepped up to lead. The way he always did. The way Bruce had trained him to. 

“We need a perimeter here, here and here.” Nightwing placed his fingers on the map, derogating quickly.  “Superman, I need an immediate evac of the West side,” Clark nodded, and was out the window in a flash. “Green Lantern help out with that, Flash, and any speedsters, I need you over in the North. We can’t leave any civilians in danger.” Superman, Green Lantern, Flash, the other speedsters, Wonder Woman, Green Arrow, all the older, more experienced, founders, all nodded, all obeyed his orders.

“Batman,” At his name, Nightwing finally hesitated, slowed, a break in his otherwise perfect mask. “Batman, you and me will defend the front.” He finally settled on, not looking up from the plans. If any other hero caught the repetition or hesitation, they didn’t show it, zipping off to follow their own orders.

Bruce fell into step beside his son Nightwing as he marched for the doors, heading to the front of battle. “I can be somewhere else.” he offered quietly, barely louder than a whisper, definitely not loud enough to be heard above the din of battle and battle preparations.

Still, Nightwing scoffed, charging his escrima sticks with a quick pump of his arms. “Don’t insult me. I can be professional. Besides, it’d be stupid to waste an asset somewhere else.” Bruce took the blows without comment or wince, merely nodded.

Despite the distance, despite their recent… space, it was almost scary how effortlessly they fell back into routine, fighting side by side the way they used to.

Nightwing called out “Back!” and suddenly he was eleven again, bright red shorts on and a massive smile, as he instructed Bruce to bend forward, the way his father had used to, so he could use him as a springboard against oncoming attackers.

It was a testament to Dicks skills that Bruce hardly felt him, a gentle brush of fingertips on his shoulders and then he was gone, soaring over his head, fists slamming into threats, shredding them apart.

The battle was over quicker than expected, and Bruce almost forgot, almost wrapped Dick in a hug, almost joked with him. But the flash of blue was jarring enough so that he caught himself, pulling away.

“Nice work Nightwing.” He muttered gruffly instead, ignoring the way Nightwing arched at the words, chest puffing out, standing taller on instinct, before he clamped it down, slouching once more.

“Yeah. Thanks. You too.” He bit out, before stalking off towards Flash and Arrow, a dismissal that hurt more than Bruce thought it would, after so many.

He slunk off to the other side, helping to tie up loose ends and clean up, before retiring back to the cave. He almost waited, head tilted to listen for the sound of a roaring engine, before he caught himself, slipping off the mask and cape, and draping them over a chair.

“Did you see Master Grayson today, Master Bruce?” Alfred asked, balancing a tray of tea on the table, trying, and failing, at subtlety.

Bruce rubbed his chin, staring at the empty white lenses of the green mask, illuminated in the display case. The light of the cave reflected off the glass, and Bruce swore the red seemed almost… blue.

“Master Bruce?” Alfred repeated. Bruce started, wiping at his eyes as he cleared his throat, turning.

“Hm? Oh, yeah. Sorry Alf...” He headed to the table to grab a cup of tea, glancing back only once.

The edges of the mask were crinkled, as though the phantom ghost of laughter still haunted them. “Yeah. I did.” 

@1-800-i-ship-it -you asked for bruce and dick, and you shall recieve! It's not entirely a long fic, or very detailed, but I tried, and was inspired by the song "sunsetz" by cigarettes after sex, i think it really works for Dick and Bruce. Anyway, hope you enjoyed and I made your day at least a lil better :) hopefully at least not worse lol

[chronosdawn]

Zhongli x GN!Reader, Soulmate AU Part 2

Link to Part 1

Word count: ~2.5k

He was waiting for you at the Stone Gate.

You hadn't known it was him at first, having taken to pointedly ignoring the sensations crawling up your arm from your soulmate mark once the phantom hand tugging you back to the harbor had turned clawed when you refused to listen to it. 

Of course you could hardly be blamed for overlooking a lone tall man standing just at the edge of the border, his back to you as he looked out over Mondstadt's grassy plains. There was nothing particularly remarkable about him at first glance, save perhaps for his height and fine clothes. The way he stood—perfectly still with his hands clasped behind his back—made him seem more like part of the landscape than a living thing. It was only when you got close to him, just barely out of arm's reach as you made to walk past and he turned to face you, amber eyes meeting yours, that you realized who he was.

Your legs refused to move as though they'd been turned to stone, torn between hurtling back the way you'd come—as though attempting to run from a god a second time might somehow prove more successful—and throwing yourself the last precious distance between you and the border, like the invisible line of it would somehow protect you from whatever was to come. 

Before you could commit to either however, your soulmate spoke.

"I apologize if the suddenness of our connection startled you, but it is very good to meet you at last." His voice was rich and smoother somehow than it had been during the rite, his expression one you could only describe as soft as he looked at you.

You'd thought gazing into the face of the dragon-qilin version of Rex Lapis was bad—somehow this was worse.

Words failed you as you stared at him. What were you even supposed to say? Your head felt like a hornets nest, thoughts flicking from excuses to questions to apologies until it turned into a garbled mess that made your temples throb. 

"I don't…" you stammered out before petering off. Your chest felt funny, like it was trying to cave in on itself.

Rex Lapis looked you over from head to toe and whatever he saw caused his lips to press together slightly. 

"You must be tired after the long journey here from the harbor. Come, you should rest for a moment." He moved to your side, a hand resting gently against the small of your back as he steered you away from the boundary of the nation of freedom and towards what appeared to be a modest tea stand nestled against the stone of one of the large cliffs making up the gate. You tried to protest, you really did, but your tongue felt like lead in your mouth, your skin prickling from how close you were to a literal god. Before you knew where you were, you'd been ushered to a table in the cornerーthe Archon only leaving your side to pull your chair out for you and then take the seat opposite. 

The elderly man running the stand came over and Rex Lapis ordered for the pair of you while you watched mutely, noting that he’d seated you in a corner, placing himself between you and any route of escape. Your hands shook faintly where they rested against the chipped wood of the table.

Silence descended as the old man left to brew your tea, interrupted only by the faint howl of the wind against the cliffs. You fought not to fidget in the face of such blatant awkwardness, turning your attention instead to the other patrons scattered nearby. The young woman closest to you was dressed in a signature Adventurer’s Guild uniform, likely on her way to a commission judging by the heavy backpack rammed with supplies at her feet. Sitting a little further away were a couple with obviously graying hair, twin soulmate marks visible on their joined hands as they quietly enjoyed the view. A lump formed in your throat at the sight.

“You hail from Snezhnaya.” Your gaze snapped back at the sound of Rex Lapis’s voice. It wasn’t a question, but the tone left the statement open-ended, an offering of idle conversation in place of the one you should be having but obviously weren’t ready for.

Nodding, you mustered your courage and said quietly, “I came to Liyue three months ago.”

“May I ask what brought you here? It’s rather a long way to travel.”

“My grandmother. She… She was from Liyue, she used to tell me stories about the harbor and the er— the Adepti growing up. After she passed, I decided I wanted to see it for myself.” You stammerred your way through your explanation, all too aware that it was only a half truth—the rest being the obviously Liyuean symbols swirled into the soulmate mark inked starkly upon your skin. 

“I am very sorry to hear of your loss," he said with a sincerity that put all the others you'd had this particular line of conversation with to shame. "Has it been all you expected, your time in Liyue?” 

"That's…" You trailed off, dropping your gaze to the table. How were you supposed to comment on a nation when the god who'd presided over it for thousands of years was sitting right across from you?

Obviously picking up on your inner turmoil, Rex Lapis spoke again, "There's no need to be anxious, I would not ask if I did not want to hear an honest answer. Though I have played a part in shaping Liyue into what it is today, it is but one of the seven nations and I would not expect it to appeal to all." 

Your drinks appeared just after he finished, providing a short but welcome reprieve as a warm cup was pressed into your hands. You inhaled deeply, the rich scent of expertly brewed green tea filling your nose as you did so. It was not until the old man had left that you gave your answer.

“It’s… prettier than I’d thought it would be. My grandmother always said the harbor was beautiful but it’s been another thing to see it in person.”

You glanced up quickly, meeting amber eyes through the faint trickle of steam rising from the cup in his hands. The Archon poised to take a sip, waiting for you to continue.

“Fitting in has been harder than I’d thought it would be. I knew it wouldn’t be easy, moving so far away from home, but I thought I’d done enough research that I’d be ready for it. I guess there’s nothing you can do to really prepare yourself for living somewhere completely new though.”

“Indeed, it’s true such adjustments can take time. Has it grown easier over the months you’ve been here at least?” 

Not really, you thought. You’d been hoping that something would click upon meeting your soulmate, that you’d feel like you’d finally found your place in the world. Instead you now felt like you wanted to be anywhere but the land of contracts and stone. 

It was that thought and the warmth seeping into your fingers that finally gave you the courage to stop dancing around the issue at hand. You shifted in your seat, straightening your back and lowering your shoulders so you looked at least a little more sure of yourself than you felt.

“Look, I think… I think there must have been some sort of mistake.”

Rex Lapis returned his cup to the table, the cor lapis gem on the back of his glove gleaming in the evening light.

“Mistake?”

“Yes, this—” you gestured between the two of you “—this can’t be right. I mean you’re a god and I’m just some human from a small village in Scheznaya—I don’t even have a vision. I don’t know that much about soulmate marks honestly,” you instinctively placed your hand over your left forearm, missing the way your conversation partner’s eyes zeroed in on the gesture, “but this has to be a false alarm or something.”

Rex Lapis’s expression remained neutral as he let out a deep exhale—it wasn’t quite a sigh but reminded you of the controlled breath someone might take before they had to explain something to a child. 

“Over the many years I have watched over Liyue, I have been witness to numerous soulmate connections. While the reason behind a pairing is not always immediately obvious, not once have I observed a soulmark responding to anyone but the person’s intended. It’s true that differences in personal status between soulmates can act as a source of friction, though that is usually between families rather than the individuals themselves, something that will not prove to be an issue in our case.” He paused to take a sip of his tea, his movements measured and steady, a stark contrast to your white-knuckled grip on your own cup.

You were painfully aware of the sun slipping lower in the sky, the cliffs slowly being stained amber in the fading late. You’d hoped to be safely in Mondstadt before nightfall.

“And though it is not common knowledge,” Rex Lapis continued, returning his cup to the table, “ours is not the first case of an archon having a human for a soulmate.” Though the words were perhaps meant to serve as some sort of reassurance, his voice held a somewhat wistful tone, as though lost in a memory from long ago..

“I just—” you sucked in a breath, the words ‘never wanted something like this’ caught in the back of your throat. It was true, of course, you didn’t want the pressure of being soulmates with Liyue’s exalted archon; of being the supposed other half of a being you likely would never be able to truly understand, let alone measure up to. It felt unfair, however, to throw that in his face. There were tales up north of various ways the story could play out when one soulmate rejected the other, none of which ended well. 

And it wasn’t as though he’d actually done anything to deserve your rejection either—you wanted to cast your connection aside because of what he was rather than anything he’d actually done. You weren’t sure you were really capable of that kind of cruelty, no matter how badly you might wish to vanish with the setting sun. 

“This wasn’t what I expected,” you said finally, after a long period of uncomfortable quiet.

“And that is not something anyone would fault you for.” If Rex Lapis was upset by your lack of enthusiasm for the bond that existed between you, he made no show of it. “I doubt many who were not intimately familiar with the gods would dare to even dream of the possibility. I hope however,” he continued, his gaze falling to the mark hidden away underneath your sleeve, “that with time it will become easier to accept.”

You swallowed uncomfortably. It wasn’t the words themselves that made something in your guts twist—if anything you should probably be grateful that a deity referred to in some stories as the Warrior God was granting you so much grace—but there was a certainty in his voice as he said them that didn’t sit well with you. 

Rex Lapis lifted his eyes from where your arms rested on the table, looking up at the slowly darkening sky. Taking a final sip of his tea he said, “It’s rather late for the return journey to the harbor, but there is an inn on the way that I believe we should be able to reach before nightfall.”

“I’m sorry, what do you mean we?” you asked in a small voice, casting a furtive glance towards the path to Mondstadt.

“Ah.” For the first time since you’d met the Archon, the slightest crack appeared in his composure, a minute shift in expression that you’d almost call bashful. The look was gone as quickly as it had appeared and you found yourself meeting the deep amber of his eyes.  “Please forgive my forwardness but I’m afraid it would be remiss of me to allow you to be exposed to the dangers that come with traveling alone at night, especially with… so few preparations.” A polite way of remarking on the fact you’d basically legged it with no supplies to your name.

“That’s…” You trail off, no good defense coming to mind as to why you should continue your journey alone with only the clothes on your back and scarcely a pocketful of mora. 

As if sensing your desperate fumble for an excuse to not go with him, he continued, “If your business in Mondstadt is urgent then I will escort you come morning, once you have had adequate rest. Otherwise, perhaps it may be best to return after you’ve had a chance to recover from the shock of recent events. It has been some time since I last had reason to visit but I would be more than happy to share the sights with you after ensuring matters will run smoothly in Liyue for the course of my absence.”

“I—” The sun was only half visible at the horizon now and as it sank further you felt your hopes of slipping away go with it. “I barely have any mora on me, I’m not sure I can afford a night at an inn.”

“That will not be an issue, I am more than willing and able to cover any of your expenses. Speaking of which,” Rex Lapis placed a large pile of mora on the table and you felt your eyes nearly bulge out of your skull at the amount—it had to be many, many times however much your tea had actually cost. You were suddenly struck with the utter stupidity of trying to use a lack of mora as an excuse to the very being who was responsible for creating it. That and the fact you were completely out of ideas on how to get out of this situation short of simply making a run for it—a tactic which had failed to provide much success thus far.

“If you are feeling up to it, we should begin our journey to the inn now before it gets much darker.” He stood and rounded the table, extending a gloved hand out to you. 

You were backed into a corner in every way that mattered, the stone of the cliffs at your back as unyielding as you suspected the god of this land was. With nowhere else left to go, you place your hand in his, the leather of his gloves cool against your skin as his fingers curl around your own. You could only hope you wouldn’t regret not trying to run when you had the chance.

Taglist: @tanspostsblog, @esthelily, @alice4wonderland2812, @kalinka9999999999, @lacunaanonymoused

A/N: I have no excuses for how long this took me but here we finally are OTL. I make no promises as to whether or not there will be a part 3 but I am trying to get into the habit of writing more regularly again so I hope to at least start posting more stuff on this blog.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Steal Your Heart (Part 1)

When the calling card of the infamous Knave of Hearts arrives, he’ll rob his victims blind of their most treasured items on the appointed date. Enter ace detective Yuu accompanied by rookie cop Deuce Spade, both seeking to apprehend the Knave and bring him to justice.

Will they succeed, or will the phantom thief steal their valuables--and their hearts--first?

This was originally meant to be one fic, but it was getting to be WAY too long. I decided to split it in half and release this part now and the second part (which I am still working on!) later. This first part focuses more on Yuu and Deuce; the second part will be more Yuu and Ace.

(Please note: there are slight romantic implications in the form of an Ace/Yuu/Deuce love triangle, but those elements could also be interpreted as platonic or as just playful teasing with no additional meaning. It’s all in the eyes of the reader!)

Imagine this...

The police station’s waiting room was a familiar sight.

With time, the shiny checkered floor had grown matte, marred with scratches and scuffs from the boots that crossed it on a daily basis. Someone had taken to attempt to pretty up the otherwise dull space by hanging out abstract paintings on the cream-colored walls, and a vase of white roses dripping with red paint at the check-in desk. There was as even a glass tank which housed a small family of colorful hedgehogs.

Maybe they were meant to be welcoming—but really, they were more clashing than anything. Certainly not a fit for the stiff atmosphere of the station.

Still the fluorescent lightbulbs buzzed faintly, flickering in and out on occasion. The sound distracted from the old television mounted in a corner to entertain guests. It seemed to play commercials on a loop more often than it played actual shows. Currently, an Olympus Corp. branded tablet was being toted as the next big technological marvel—though the TV’s audio was fuzzy at best, and the image half static.

A coffee table pushed to the wall, stacked with a new stash of magazines. Whoever updated the reading materials—most likely the friendly senior officer with orange waves for hair—was into the latest trends, often selecting fashion magazines with high gloss finishes. A dangerously beautiful man graced the covers of many of them, dressed in the hottest summertime styles while looking the part of an untouchable ice queen.

As usual, the station was scented with coffee and tea, the beverages of choice for many officers burning the midnight oil or working overtime. The chief demanded it at times to meet deadlines and goals—he was such a stickler for them—and the caffeine helped those under him stay sane as they went about their duties.

In the afternoons, most were either out on lunch or on patrol, lessening the foot traffic at HQ. There was only one man in uniform, seated behind the desk and filing some papers.

Yuu shifted in their own chair, adjusting the rim of the baseball cap upon their head. They were suited in an inconspicuous jacket and sneakers, fingers toying with a badge in a pocket, hidden out of view. To the common man, they were a jogger--but one flash of their lilac gemstone bound to a black and white striped ribbon, and there would be no doubt as to what their true identity was.

The smell of coffee and tea grew stronger, and Yuu glanced up from behind the bill of their hat.

The bespectacled man from behind the front desk had approached. He had a sheepish smile, bearing a paper cup filled with hot brown liquid and a napkin with a donut laid upon it. Bright pink icing dusted with sugared violet petals crowned the golden fried pastry.

“Detective.”

“Mr. Clover.” Yuu nodded—a terse, polite greeting. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Please, just ‘Trey’ is fine.” He offered the treats, which they readily accepted. “Sorry for calling you in on such short notice. I’m sure you’re busy juggling your other cases—but I think I speak for the entire department when I say we’re thankful that you were able to make it.”

“No worries, I’m used to it in this line of work,” Yuu replied. “It must be something pretty urgent this time around. The Chief sounded frantic over the phone.”

Trey rubbed at his chin, grasping for the right words. “Let’s just say he’s not in the best of moods right now. You’ll need that sugar to get through this in one piece.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you.”

“Just trying to avoid any trouble. You’d better finish them before you step into his office. You know how he hates it when there are crumbs or spills in there.”

“Aye, aye, sir.” Yuu gave a joking salute before starting to pack away at their snack. The drink was the instant kind, and practically scalding, but it was easy to tell that the donut was homemade. The pastry, flaky on the outside and fluffy on the inside, dusted with sugar granules and sweet icing. “Wouldn’t want the Chief to be blowing a fuse again.”

“No, definitely not. He’s done too much of that lately.” Trey carefully eyed Yuu’s donut, now only half of it left. “Oh, but be sure to brush your teeth a thorough cleaning tonight, or I might have some problems with you. Cavities and staining are real dangers, you know.”

“Are you Assistant Chief of Police or my dental hygienist?” Yuu took a generous swig, then a bite just as big. “You worry too much about everything.”

“Ahahah… Do I? It’s a habit, I guess. Comes with the job.”

“That stressful, huh?”

“Well, I do what I can to smooth things over. Hopefully you can too. It’s been difficult on our department with the Chief all rattled up about the… situation.” He stopped himself. “I’m sure you’ll hear all about it from him.”

So the case is top-secret, Yuu concluded with the last of their donut. Not to be discussed in the public.

They ran their tongue across the length of their mouth, lapping up the remains of sugary residue. “I understand. The details are not to leave his office.”

“You catch on quickly. No wonder why the Chief thinks so highly of your abilities.”

“Flattery’s a part of your tool kit as well, Trey?”

He raised his eyebrows. “… You’ve worked long enough with us to figure these things out. Nothing gets by you, it seems.”

“UGIGIGIGIGGGGHHHH!!”

The remainder of Yuu’s drink sloshed around in its cup, set into motion by the bloodcurdling scream.

A familiar man with orange waves erupted from the chief’s office, hurriedly slamming the door shut behind him. His typically relaxed features were arranged in panic, his hair frazzled.

“How did trying to calm him work out, Cater?” Trey inquired half-heartedly. It was a courtesy more than genuine curiosity.

“What do you think?” the senior officer groaned, sinking where he stood.

Yuu quickly finished their drink, tossing their trash—the evidence they had been there—away and then stood, adjusting their jacket. “That sounds like it’s my cue.”

“Yeah, it is.” Trey sighed, frowning. “He’s in a tough spot right. Be kind to him, will you? That’s all I ask.”

“You got it.” Yuu tipped their baseball cap as they passed the officer. “Thank you for the pick-me-up. I’ll be seeing you, then. Officer Diamond—get some rest.”

“Good luck.”

“You’ll need it, Yuu-chan! Brace yourself.”

The Police Chief was a small but serious man.

His character came through in his office space: books on law and order neatly arranged on shelves, papers and files alphabetically organized in their cabinets, and pens evenly spaced apart and arranged in rows. A crystal vase with deep red roses was poised beside his writing implements. A plate polished to a fine shine was propped up at his desk, reading: Riddle Rosehearts, Chief of Police.

Perched imposingly despite his short stature in his seat, he impatiently tapped a finger on an arm. Riddle’s face was a telltale red and veiny, proof of his earlier outburst, but was beginning to cool into a faint, smooth pink.

There was already another man in the office, sitting across from the Police Chief. He was pale and jittery in a suit the color of the night and sewn with blue sequins and glitter. A top hat rested upon his raven locks, the brim of it shading his hauntingly golden eyes.

Yuu removed their hat and, keeping it to their chest, gave a shallow bow as they entered. “Sir.”

One move out of line, one hair out of place, and they suspected he, in his volatile and vulnerable state, would explode anew.

“Welcome, Detective. I’m glad you could join us today.” Every word was a gruff puff of air, a leash with which to wrest control of his rage. Riddle gestured to the empty chair beside the nervous man. “Sit.”

Yuu obeyed, sinking into the seat offered. They casted a glance at the stranger adjacent to them, who was fiddling with his velvet-lined gloves.

“Mr. Crowley, this is the independent detective from Stray Cat Investigations that I had previously mentioned to you. The force has collaborated with them for a number of difficult cases in the past. Their wit and strategic skills have made them an invaluable asset. I thought it prudent to have them return to join us for your case as well.

“Yuu, meet Dire Crowley. He is the esteemed director and curator for the Sage’s Island Museum, and he’s come to us with his woes.”

“Hello, Mr. Crowley,” Yuu said politely. “It’s nice to meet you.”

He responded with a tired attempt at a smile. “Yes, you too.”

“Now that we’re all acquainted with one another...” Riddle produced a file from beneath his desk and placed it before himself. “Do you care to explain, or shall I?”

“I-I’ll elaborate!” Crowley crowed. He picked at a collection of keys belted to his waist, glistening gold under artificial lights. “The Sage’s Island Museum is planning a new exhibition on the Great Seven. As part of the exhibit, we are having many priceless artifacts flown in from all over Twisted Wonderland. We have donations from even Briar Valley’s royal family!!

“There will also be a great number of important VIP guests present for the grand opening of the exhibit. Royalty, wealthy benefactors, important diplomats, businessmen, celebrities... All individuals who wish to see their history on display! This is very important, you see!! M-My reputation--er, I mean, the museum’s reputation--is on the line here!!”

“Right.” Yuu nodded as they parsed through the information. “I’m following what you’re putting down. And where does your problem arise, Mr. Crowley?”

“Ah, now that,” Riddle smirked, “is the question of the hour.”

He opened his file, pulling out...

A single playing card, its back facing Yuu.

“I trust you’ve been keeping up with the news?”

“As any good detective would. There have been several robberies lately. Terrible, really.” Yuu’s expression clouded with concentration. “Hmm... but if it’s a potential robbery that you’re concerned about, Mr. Crowley... Doesn’t the Sage’s Island Museum boast a state-of-the-art security system from Olympus Corp.? I doubt the average thief would be able to bypass it.”

“That’s just the trouble,” Crowley loudly lamented.

“We are dealing with no ordinary thief,” Riddle clarified.

“It’s not?”

“No. Far from it.” The Police Chief exhaled sharply. “The string of robberies from before--they’re connected by a single thread, perpetuated by the same lone culprit. And now that scoundrel intends to continue his crime spree.”

“I’ve never heard of this before.”

“You shouldn’t have. It was a top-secret operation within my force since the first of its kind.”

“Why am I being told of it now?”

“Because, loathe as I am to admit it, the culprit has managed to outwit us and elude capture each and every time, He employs a bag of cheap parlor tricks and smoke and mirrors like the coward he is,” Riddle confessed begrudgingly. The blue-grey of his eyes were steely and stubborn. “A case as important as this needs the additional man—and brain—power, Detective.”

He placed the playing card down and slid it toward the detective. “This arrived in the morning at Mr. Crowley’s desk, the same as all the prior robberies. It gave him quite the fright. He rushed all the way to the station to beg for our assistance.”

“This is...” Yuu gingerly turned the card over, revealing a message scrawled on the other side in bright red gel ink. Each letter was big and bubbly, bursting with cheek and pomp.

Their heart jumped.

To the Old Crow that safeguards the Museum,

Heyo~

Your pockets look a lil’ heavy there, so I’ll help you out. (Aren’t I so kind?) Three days from now, I’ll claim one of your most prized treasures at the stroke of midnight.

Stand back and watch as I perform the greatest magic trick you’ll ever see... and make the portrait of the Queen of Hearts vanish before your very eyes. It’ll be a show-stopper!!

Until then,

Phantom Thief Knave of Hearts <3 ;3

P.S. Send the cops my regards, they can’t catch me lol (especially when their teapot tyrant’s patience is in SHORT supply geddit)

“They’re just flat-out announcing what their intentions are,” Yuu realized. They were half impressed, half shocked at the gall. “You said all of the victims received messages like this?”

“Calling cards, yes.” The fury had returned to Riddle’s features, causing his voice to spike and strain. “It’s infuriating!! What does he get off on, misappropriating magic as cheap parlor tricks for crime, writing notes in such a cocksure manner, taunting us to pursue him?!

“Not only is he poking fun at my height and committing a crime, but for mere SPORT?! For the THRILL of it?! He’s making a mockery of the good people of this island and of my men and our efforts to secure the peace!!”

The Police Chief slammed a fist down on his desk, rattling his glass vase and setting his perfectly straight pens askew. Crowley shrunk back in fear. “That Knave of Hearts...!! He must be stopped at all costs!!”

“Y-Yes, absolutely!!” Crowley chimed in. “For my--er, I mean, for the museum’s sake, this criminal must be put behind bars!! That’s why I’ve come to you, my good people!

“My taxpayer dollars help fund the police force, so I’ve come to collect on what its promise to protect and to serve the community!! Well, here’s the community at your doorstep asking you to protect and to serve!!”

“That’s why you want to put me on this case,” Yuu concluded, clasping the calling card to their racing heart. “To prevent this from going down tonight.”

“And furthermore,” Riddle added, “to investigate the identity of this so-called phantom thief once the museum is safely secured.”

“That’s a tall order, sir.”

“You’ll have access to our force’s resources, and to my officers. You will assist in overseeing this operation, with maps and outlines of the museum’s security detail from Mr. Crowley. We’ll cooperate to create a plan of attack to apprehend the Knave.”

“You misunderstand me. I never said I wouldn’t take the job,” Yuu coolly informed the Chief. Their mouth cocked upwards with confidence. “I’m always up for a challenge.”

“Oh, blessed day!! From the very bottom of my oh-so-generous heart, thank you very much!!” Crowley cried tearfully.

For the first time the entire briefing, Riddle smiled back at Yuu. “Hmph. That’s what I like to hear. Happy to be working with you again, Detective.”

“Likewise, Chief.”

The sun had already set when Yuu exited the station, the stars blinking into existence. Several hours had been spent picking the museum curator’s brain with a fine-toothed comb, looking over layouts, and memorizing security detail. The information had been well-stocked, and now came the time to let it marinate and bloom into plans.

Stuffing their hands in their pockets, Yuu shuffled down the sidewalk and past rows of parked vehicles. Ahead, neon lights flashed in and out, and the trains rattled on their well-worn tracks, buses and cars honking at each other, the chatter of street vendors filling the air.

And something different than the usual tonight.

The city never slept, always buzzed with energy. Yuu had become accustomed to its sights and sounds, finding them even comforting. Their best ideas were conceived against the hum of the cityscape. It was just soft enough to not fully distract, but just noticeable enough to tug at their thoughts for long enough to stray into new territories and concepts.

Light from lonely streetlamps created tears in the darkness, illuminating the path to their favorite downtown thinking spot: the Mostro Lounge. A good (albeit overpriced) drink would chase away their tiredness.

Yuu continued with that promise in mind, every step catlike. First quick, next slow, then quick, moderate, slow, quick, slow, quick, moderate. Their speed, ever alternating.

Their ears strained against the sounds of the city, slowly parsing through the individual elements.

Trains, buses, cars, chatter… and the soft footsteps masked by them. Footsteps which matched Yuu’s pace.

There was no mistaking it now.

I’m being followed.

They didn’t look to see who it was—the first rule of tailing a target was to never alert them to your awareness. Yuu would know (as oftentimes they were the one in the position of tailer).

They cast their eyes across the street, which was busy with bodies. Once Yuu merged with the crowd, they could easily shake off their stalker.

Their feet picked up their pace again, hurrying to the crosswalk. It was a glaring red, advising pedestrians to stop.

Shoot, Yuu cursed.

They felt a presence step up beside them. From the corner of their eye, they could make out a dark form--clothes. Yuu pretended to check the time on their phone, and glimpsed him in the reflection.

He was in a hoodie, with the hood pulled up and head down to conceal his features. His hands, too, were out of sight, a sea of baggy fabric hiding identifying features, save for his frame. Lanky, but reasonably packed with muscle to keep up with Yuu.

The man shifted, and his sight grazed theirs. His eyes were hard and icy, a silent threat.

Yuu quickly focused on the crosswalk light. Their heartbeat became as loud as the surrounding sounds. Screeching above the vehicles, shouting from the rooftops. THA-THUMP, THA-THUMP, THA-THUMP.

At last, the light turned from red to white.

Walk.

They started--and so did he.

“Excuse me.” A hand came upon their shoulder. The other pulled at something with a sinister glint. “Do you have a second?”

No walking, Yuu corrected themselves. Run!!

They sprinted down the crosswalk, jostling pedestrians with a hasty “sorry!” thrown back at them. As Yuu weaved through the crowd as fast as they could, they could not completely shunt out the man after them.

“Hey, please wait!! Where are you going?! C-Come back, I need to talk to you!”

His voice carried above the others. People jolted back, the crowd parting to make way for the man to charge forth. His volume swelled louder and louder as he gained on them.

Towering apartments seemed to bear down on Yuu. Their windows, glaring.

A shop. Find a shop and get inside!!

Yuu pumped their arms, pleaded for their legs to move more efficiently.

Again, a weight fell upon their shoulder. It was a clamp, fingers biting Yuu’s skin through their jacket as they dug in and held firm.

The other hand wielded the same shining object that it had before. Yuu looked more closely this time, and the unease in them dissipated. It was not the pointed tip of a knife, but the glint of a familiar officer’s badge wreathed in golden roses.

The man tore off his hood with a sigh--though Yuu noticed that he wasn’t one bit out of breath. Navy bangs fell across his forehead, his eyes a peacock green-blue, much friendlier under the streetlamps than the crosswalk signs.

He smiled at Yuu as though he were greeting an old friend. His grip turned into a tender squeeze. “I finally caught up with you!”

The detective awkwardly pulled away, confusion scrawled on their face. “Um... Sorry, who are you? I don’t believe we’ve met before.”

“Oh! Uh...” The man jumped, retracting his hand. “That’s because we haven’t! Er, not officially anyway, but I’ve heard a lot about you!!”

Yuu pointed to his badge. “That. You’re an officer?”

“Yessir!” The man offered the proof of his identity and stiffly saluted. “Officer Deuce Spade, sir!! I’m a new recruit...!! I just joined the force a few weeks ago!”

Yuu mustered a faint smile. The darned fool was going to give them away. “... Am I in trouble, officer?”

“Nossir! Not at all!” His entire face shone with eagerness, earnest, and a slightly nervous energy. Maybe Yuu would have found it adorable (in the same way that a child trying hard was adorable), were he not blasting your occupation to the public. “Why would you be in trouble, sir?! You’re working with...”

“Okaaay, that’s enough out of you!” Yuu slapped a hand over Deuce’s mouth, silencing him.

Curious onlookers murmured amongst themselves. Some had taken to halt and full-on gawk. Children pointed, adults narrowing their eyes with suspicion.

Yuu frowned, removing their hand to shoo pedestrians away. “Nothing to see here, folks. Just a misunderstanding. Move along, Wonder Boy and I can settle this ourselves.”

“Wonder Boy?” Deuce, in a daze, pointed to himself. “Is that... me?”

“Who else would I be talking about?” Yuu folded their arms. “I assume you’re free now?”

“I am, sir! I was just let off my shift a little while ago, sir!”

“First, drop the ‘sir’. It’s giving me a headache,” Yuu instructed. “Second, if you’re free, then you’ll be joining me for a drink and a chat. We have things to discuss--chief among them being why you were following me.”

Ring-a-ling!

A bell sounded as the door to the Mostro Lounge swung open. Deuce stepped into a new world, Yuu at his side.

The interior itself was dim, but glass lights fastened in the shape of jellyfish projected swimming incandescent lights in purple, blue, and pink. Velvet booths lined one half of the eatery, the other, a glossy bar with tall, narrow stools, the shelves behind it healthily stocked with bottles in jeweled tones. Strangers poised with drink took residence in most of the seats.

The entire back wall had been repurposed into a massive aquarium teeming with aquatic plants and exotic creatures. Seaweed and coral gently swayed to the rhythm of the smooth jazz floating through the lounge, fish frolicking among them.

“Whoooa,” Deuce gasped, craning his head to drink in every detail. “I’ve never been to a place as classy as this. It looks so expensive. You think my salary’s enough to cover at least an appetizer?”

“Hang on tight to your wallet,” Yuu warned. “This place will squeeze you for every thaumark you’re worth and then some—and they won’t feel a bit of remorse about it.”

The detective raised an arm, flagging a nearby waiter.

Their uniform was simple yet sleek: dark dress pants, a white bow tie, spotless gloves, and a cummerbund and suspenders over a lavender button-up shirt. It allowed for slight variation—one waiter skidded by with his shirt buttoned as low as food safety regulations deemed safe. Another jotted down orders with a jacket thrown over his shoulders and a pair of glasses tucked into the crevice of his buttons.

The waiter Yuu called out to approached like a shark fin cutting through still water, neatly bowing to greet their waiting customers. He was prim and proper compared to the other servers, not a button out of place.

When he raised his head, Deuce marveled at his mismatched olive and gold irises, the teal of his hair marred by a stripe of black. Three diamond-shaped scales dangled from his left ear, as sharp as his eyes.

“I bid you welcome to the Mostro Lounge, honored guests,” the waiter said smoothly. He gaze immediately cut to Deuce. “I see you’ve brought a friend with you, today, Yuu-san. How delightfully rare.”

“Acquaintance. We just met outside under… less than ideal circumstances.”

“Oya, how quick you were to seize on that chance encounter. I may even deem you a bigger opportunist than our dear manager.”

“… Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Deuce inquired.

“Perhaps you will find the answer to your question, should you act as a patron at our establishment for long enough.”

“Quit toying with him, Jade. You know what we’re here for,” Yuu grumbled. “My usual.”

“If that is what you wish. And for this gentleman acquaintance of yours?”

“Just ice water is fine, sir!”

Jade maintained his polite smile. “Very well. One glass of ice cold water for you. I will bring you a menu as well, in case you begin to feel peckish late into the night.”

“Oh, thanks!”

“Right this way then.” Jade gestured for the two to follow him.

“He’s upselling you, you know,” Yuu pointed out under their breath. “Hoping that you’ll buy something when presented with the opportunity to spend.”

“E-Eh, he is?! I didn’t even realize…”

“Fufufu. Please, do not let your worries consume you. You have come to relax, correct? We at the Mostro Lounge ask that you put your fins and your feet up and enjoy yourself while the night is still young.”

They were escorted to two empty stools in a (relatively) quiet corner of the bar. The glass jellyfish lights were clustered in the center of the main dining area, leaving the corner like a slice of dark, uncharted waters. Jass music and conversation filtered into a muffled melody.

Yuu plopped down with relief, followed by an apprehensive Deuce. He slowly sank into the cushy seat.

“I will be right back with your drinks. If you will excuse me.” With another bow, Jade rounded the bar and rolled up his sleeves—the transition from waiter to bartender. Presenting his back to the duo, he set to plucking bottles off of the shelves.

Deuce blinked. He still hadn’t taken to fully processing his new surroundings. “Are we really going kick back and have drinks when there’s a serial thief on the loose?”

“We can’t talk about that in public, or risk blowing my cover. It’s safe to talk here,” Yuu reassured him. “What happens in the Mostro Lounge stays in the Mostro Lounge. Say what you want about the slimy staff, but they know how to keep their patrons’ secrets. Client confidentiality and all.”

The young officer brightened. “Ooooh, I get it!”

“… You’re not the sharpest tool in the shed,” Yuu remarked bluntly. They slipped off their baseball cap, letting loose their hair. “So? Let’s have it.”

“Have what?”

“Your reason for following me.”

“Oh!! That.” Deuce nervously scratched at the back of his neck. “That’s kind of…”

The detective drummed their fingers on the polished counter. Methodical, deliberate. “You mentioned that you recently joined the force. However, only senior officials in the police department and myself were privy to this operation. How did you come to learn about it?”

Deuce stiffened, thrown off his beat (if he had any to begin with). “Th-That’s…!”

“I’m asking you a question, Mr. Spade. Please answer me truthfully.”

“I… um… Truth is, I…” Deuce stared at his lap, unable to meet the detective’s eyes. “I might have eavesdropped when I returned from my patrol shift…”

“Go on,” Yuu coaxed.

“There was a report I had to submit to the Chief, but it sounded like he was busy in his office. It’s hard to not notice him when he raises his voice, sir. I decided to wait outside until he was done, and… well, I got curious.”

“Wasn’t Assistant Chief Clover also present? He just let you do that without a single protest?”

“Assistant Chief Clover was very nice to me! He laughed a little and said ‘make sure you don’t get caught with your hand in the cookie jar’!”

Darn it, Trey!! You could’ve been a LITTLE stricter with this guy…! Yuu groaned, massaging the bridge of their nose. “Okay, I think I’m starting to get a better picture of what went down. You followed me wanting to learn more about the operation.”

Like a curious child chasing after a white rabbit. Still immature, still wondering, and still way over their head.

“Yes, but that’s not all!” Deuce insisted. He abruptly stood from the table. “There’s an even more important reason than just satisfying my curiosity, sir!”

Yuu quirked an eyebrow. “And what’s that?”

“I had to talk to you—without the Chief around. I had to. That’s why I followed you in secret.” The officer nibbled his lower lip, as if biting back something harsh and bitter from coming up.

“Out with it, Mr. Spade.”

“Pardon the intrusion,” Jade coolly interjected. His tone was nonchalant but his bemused smile was a telltale sign that he was relishing in every second of the hot gossip. “Your beverages.”

He slid two glasses between Yuu and Deuce before departing. One was tall and slim—a highball—loaded with carbonated water and fruity gummies. Yellow for jeweled pineapples, red for ruby berries, green for frozen mint, black for floral cacao, and blue from pure azure salt. It was Yuu’s usual, the famed Mystery Drink. The other glass was, by comparison, an ordinary drink of water, a single large, clear cube of ice floating in it.

A bead of sweat ran down Deuce’s jawline. Condensation forming and racing on his glass of water.

Suddenly, the officer slapped both hands on the counter, slamming his face down upon its surface. His navy hair splayed, forehead touching the table in a display of humility.

Yuu almost spilled their drink. “What are you doing?”

“I’m begging you, sir!! P-Please put me on the mission!!” Deuce pleaded, his voice shaky but resolute. “I… I want to help catch the Knave of Hearts too!!”

“If that’s all you wanted, why ask me? Go through the proper channels to…”

“I can’t!! The Chief would never allow it.” His expression creased with shame. “He says rookies need to work their way up from meter maid to working on cases.”

“He’s right. You need to grow into these things, not rush in head-first in a burst of passion.” Yuu made to take a sip of their drink—but the officer’s fist collided with the counter, the liquid inside the glass sloshing overboard. Seltzer water splashed onto their pant leg, leaving a sticky wet spot on a thigh.

“P-Please reconsider! I know how to handle myself in a fight! I’m fast, I could easily catch up with him if it’s a race on foot!”

“Look,” the detective said irritably, “I don’t know what you’re hoping to accomplish here. Fact is, no matter how much you ask, I wouldn’t want to take you on for this case. You’re too green behind the ears—and sorry, but I just don’t see you as an asset.

“You may be strong and quick on your feet, but it’ll take more than strength and speed to catch the Knave of Hearts. There’s a reason he hasn’t been caught yet.” Yuu tapped at their temple. “It’s this. He’s got smarts, and we need to combat that with smarts of our own.”

“I-I can be smart!! I can try to, at least! Please, just let me try…!!”

Frustrated, Yuu scrutinized the young man again. Their eyes roaming, searching, for detail wrong, a hair out of place.

Years of sleuthing had built up a great amount of cynicism and distrust in the detective. How many times had they pulled back the curtain, revealing the ugly truths hidden out of plain sight? How many bruised egos--both clients and coworkers--had they encountered? People seeking status or to feed their own pride.

Yet when they looked at Deuce, none of that ugliness or ego came through. Here was someone who stubbornly stared right back at Yuu, unwilling to back down, even when his dignity lay in tatters on the floor the instant he prostrated himself.

Another selfish bid for recognition? They ventured, toying with the idea. Maybe personal ambition, looking to climb up in the world.

“... One reason,” Yuu said, holding up an index finger. “Give me one good reason why I should take you on. Convince me.”

Deuce recoiled--as though even he hadn’t expected to have made it this far, or to be taken seriously at all. His brows creased with effort as he racked the recesses of his mind to find the right phrasing.

A second later, he let out a piercing shout.

“GAAAAAAAAH!!”

With a grunt, Deuce grasped his cup of ice water and lifted it to his lips. He hammered the drink in a single swig, releasing a satisfied hoot. The liquid courage had revived the man, returning the spark to him.

In a voice as clear as the drink he had just downed, Deuce said, “It’s for my mom. She’s just about the sweetest, most hard-working person I know.”

He hung his head and slammed his empty cup down, shaking the entire table.

“She raised me as a single parent. Mom never once complained, only wanted the best life for me.” Deuce glared into his glass, speaking with scorn and anger--not at others, but for himself. “And how did I repay her? I... turned to delinquency.

“I acted out because I wasn’t man enough to do the mature thing and work on myself!! She blamed herself for my stupid decisions! I made mom worry for me so, so much...”

Plip, plip.

Deuce faltered, letting quiet tears dribble down his cheeks and landing on the cube of ice left in his glass. Once they made contact with the frozen block, it was impossible to tell what was water and what was salt.

“I swore to myself that I would turn my life around... to show mom that it’s not her fault, that she did all she could to raised someone who could contribute to society!! So I studied really hard at the police academy, and even though my grades were crappy, I managed to graduate...!!”

He choked up, a concoction of fiery passion infused in his stuttering words. “I can finally be that model officer and make a change in the community! But I haven’t done a damn thing...! I just play meter maid while bad guys are out there running free, when I could be out there making this city a safer place for mom and everyone that lives here...!!”

The noises of the lounge seemed to fade into a stoic silence around Deuce. His declaration reverberated loudly. “I have to do this. I need to do this.”

He bowed again, his forehead pressed hard against the surface of the table. The single word he uttered was hoarse, desperate.

“Please.”

Deuce pried himself up almost painfully. The eyes were aquamarine, wet with hot tears. Something shone through them in shades of blue and green, priceless as any treasure: an honesty that burned like an eternal flame.

Yuu startled, striken by a single, haunting revelation: He’s telling the truth.

“... I don’t think I’ve met someone like you before,” they said cryptically. “I don’t doubt your story—but as touching as it is, I don’t know if...”

Hesitation reared its head, and Yuu forced themselves to look away. Couldn’t bear to see him, that wide-eyed sincerity.

Emotion clashing with their sound logic. Two things that shouldn’t have belonged together colliding. 

Wait... things that don’t belong together? Things I didn’t expect, surprises and twists to the tale...

A ex-delinquent turned into a policeman. A selfishness turned selfless. An anticipated lie turned into a truth. Something there that hadn’t been before.

The detective’s mind raced, quickly outpacing the words leaving their mouth. A solution which subverted expectations, a trap laced with honey for a man with sticky fingers.

That’s it. We’ll pull a trick of our own.

“Okay, I’ve changed my mind,” Yuu abruptly announced. “You’re in on this operation, Mr. Spade.”

“R-Really?!” Deuce’s face nearly tore in half, his volume revving up like a motorcycle engine. “You mean it?!”

“I do.”

Yuu took a cool sip of their Mystery Drink. Flavors from all over Twisted Wonderland cascaded over their tongue—a triumphant, fleeting pleasure.

They set their glass down and bent over, gripping Deuce by the strings of his hoodie. Yuu tugged, bringing the policeman lurching forward.

His clammy forehead against theirs. Centimeters away, his eyes widened. A flushed heat climbed to his cheeks, his voice set in a stammer.

“S-Sir, what are we...”

“You’ll have to follow my instructions very carefully,” Yuu replied with a devious grin. “Listen up, rookie: cuz you’re going to be the star of this show. Here’s the plan...”

The ambience of the lounge drowned out Yuu’s whispers. From afar, their words could only be read through the shapes of their mouth, the increasingly confused and alarmed expressions that Deuce pulled.

Jade observed them patiently, chuckling to himself. “My, my, it seems like our genius detective has found yet another solution.”

CLATTER, CLATTER!!

A tray piled high with empty plates and dishes was slammed down. Jade’s twin peered around the stack, leaning lazily against the bar.

“Eeeh, but I bet against them this time.”

“Playing the contrarian runs its risks.” Jade picked up a glass, staring at his brother through it. The golden orb called his left eye was clear as a topaz. “As for myself, I’m excited to see how this plays out.”

PAP.

A notepad came down on the table as a third waiter joined them.

“Both of you need to stop gossiping and get back to work,” their manager chided, sliding the notepad—scrawled with fresh orders—to Jade. “Leave the customers to tend to their own business. We’ll soon know the outcome.”

[To be continued...]

[moineauz]

જ⁀ 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 are you to 𝐌𝐄 ?

To Blade, you were the sun stretching over a vibrant pasture of may flowers that broke like the golden yolk of an egg.

To Blade, you were the twirling winds of summertime as your smile emulated the very warmth of the sun and a dash of charming playfulness which never once failed to lighten the strain of burdens. Naturally flowing away like a stream of water or a feather in the wind.

To Blade, your patience was as steadfast and serene as a lake in still waters, the moon dancing overhead while you planted stars on his scars through tender kisses he did not deserve. Boundless and ever so infinite like your soul.

To Blade, you were both an instrument and it’s player: a sweet melody that echoed in his ears every daunting moment when the whispers of the past clouded his mind. Spotlight gracing your skin as the tunes of a forgotten tenderness swirled up into the air like the steam of tea rising from a cup. Thus, no matter his efforts or restraint, Blade kept finding himself at your front door, and thus, in your arms. Time and time again.

To Blade, each step you graced the ground with brought forth life: a child’s laughter, an old woman’s smile, the scent of honeysuckles. That was all your doing.

And Blade, was forever a shadow of destruction that was doomed to a life as devoid and blank as a starless night. Nevertheless, you were the stars. You littered yourself in his life; setting a subtle twinkle in the abyssal night of his being despite his lifeless form.

You were made of cosmic dust, maple wood and all the collective dreams of the universe. And Blade, who was undone bit by bit, followed you like a shadow looming behind in longing.

It had been so long since another soul touched him without underlying motives. He feared that.

Why did you harbour him in your house absent of fear? Why did your persistence invoke warm sensations? Why did your eyes unfailingly meet his?

Blade was keen on understanding you, yet, he gradually realized there was simply nothing to understand. Truth rolled of your tongue with ease and as for Blade, it got stuck in his throat, dying off. Yes, you were far from perfect, nevertheless, you carried yourself despite every thorn pricking your skin. Carving your way through each cavern; leaving subtle traces of discovery for him to follow.

The feeling swelled in his chest like a disease— and it terrified him. And yet, he could not put a name to it. A name to how his eyes lingered a touch longer than they should or how you rubbed his back. (And for the first time, he did not flinch at your touch or grab you by the arm.)

Thus, when the Astral Express offered you the chance to become a passenger, Blade clenched his fist and held his breath.

It was no wonder they asked you. After all, you were the polar opposite of what a Stellaron Hunter should be. You were amiable, mindful, calm, merciful yet seemingly lighthearted like a child.

Blade told himself that he dared not involve himself. You were a person of your own free will. Thus, you would deal with the consequences. There was no regard for him.

Nevertheless, the urge to tear you away from the conversation thrummed through his vile veins.

However, your reply would be forever ingrained in his sullen memory for the rest of eternity.

"I am honoured that you would consider me Mr. Yang," you articulate kindly, a smile reaching your lips, "But, I'm afraid I must decline."

"Oh? How so?"

You emit a silky chuckle, "If you asked me three years ago, I would have readily agreed," you pause then continue with vibrant eyes, "But, there are people I care for with my own life. It would be my biggest regret to leave them."

Until Blade can learn to fathom the extent of his own emotions, he will continue to linger beside you like a phantom or a shadow. Subconsciously yearning to nestle himself in your warmth, yet, always going through, a mere ghost of an absent lover in your presence.

masterlist

more angst :0 i think most of my blog will be angst lmao. btw this was originally posted on my other account @/mignonne02. i just took it down there. thank you for all the support! it makes me really excited to write more >> (please request btw) especially on my last post (diluc angst for life)

[sageofthestarz]

Phantom/Swiss/Dew angsty kinda fluff idk

The Newly summoned Phantom, one not accepted into the pack immediately due to the loss of Aether

They're all in grieving, and can't automatically make that connection. It's not intentional, but it happened

Phantom doesn't realize this though. He doesn't understand why his new pack is so cold to him but so soft and sweet with each other

He desperately wants that connection and goes out of his way to help everywhere he can, gets up when it's still dark out to do the others chores, make breakfast, practice as much as physically possible for him

The others remain cold to him though. Don't realize how the only things keeping him going are the soft touches and praises the others give him. A hand on his shoulder from mountain after he helps in the greenhouse, a soft thank you from Cumulus as she's handed her morning tea

He's exhausted, looking longingly at the cuddle piles that happen randomly when one of the others are having a bad day. Stands off to the side for a maybe slightly awkward amount of time wishing to be invited in. They never realize thats what he's waiting for though. They think he just doesn't want to join in

As they grow to love him more and more they don't realize that the reason he doesn't join them is because he thinks hes not allowed too now. Never being invited, never even having a word that indicated he was

That how cold they were towards him at first is why he now can't just push his way into the group where he wishes

It isn't until they're on tour that he gets cuddles for the first time

It's grueling, his shoulders and back are killing him from the weight of the Fantoman, the way he flings it around like nothing just for the audiences praise

Swiss and Dew are cuddling in the back bedroom one night, the curtains open, a known open invitation for the pack to come and join them

They watch as Phantom whines quietly as he lifts his bag into his bunk, his face screwing up in pain

They look at each other knowingly, Swiss getting up and coming to his bunk, the one under Phantoms

"Hey buggy, you doing okay?" He asks quietly, resting a hand onto his back lightly

The way Phantom sags slightly into the warmth of his hand before tensing back to attention and stepping away "mn fine! Good!" He corrects with a slight smile, the way his eyes look give away how he truly feels though

Swiss hums to himself tugging his blankets off his bunk, a heavy built comforter, a fluffy one with a bever from some American gas station that looked more like a Walmart, and a handmade crochet blanket from Cumulus. The longing look Phantoms eyes said it all

"Well, why don't you come lay down with us? We're trying to find a movie to put on" He offered with a grin

The stifled gasp was enough to make Swiss' grin grow wider, walking back to the back room with Phantom in tow, his tail giving away his excitement

Swiss threw all the blankets down onto Dew who glared him down, eyes looking to Phantom after, curious

Phantom tensed under his gaze before the fire ghoul gestured to next to him. The quint looking to Swiss before he gave a nod as well

He was hesitant but crawled in and sat next to Dew leaving some space between them. Swiss wasting no time flopping down with a groan throwing an arm around the quints shoulders

Dew yawned settling down into the blankets, his heat making the blankets as warm as the electric blanket Phantom loved in the common room back home

The soft purr started before the quint realized, Swiss and Dew sharing a look as Phantom settled into Swiss' side, Dew claiming he couldn't see the TV well and pressing himself against the quints acheing back. His purr only intensified, the heat helping lure him into a daze

It wasn't long before he was a sleepy purring mess between them, Swiss already passed out with the quint in his arms snoring softly. Dew watching the TV mindlessly, head on Phantoms shoulder with his warm hands massaging up and down his shoulders

Dew knew well how heavy the Fantoman was, how sore he would get after a few days of repetitive use. Remembers how Ifrit would do this for him, massage and knead at his sore spots with warm firm hands that always felt amazing

"Could have joined us sooner ya'know." Dew mumbled quietly, Phantoms eyes darting to the fire ghouls

"Didn't think I was allowed.." he said back, whining softly as Dews fingers massaging into a particularly sore spot

"You're always allowed" Dew hummed, massaging with more intent, Phantom sighing allowing himself to go boneless

"Feels good.." he said quietly

"Glad. Come to me whenever you need okay? Know how bad this can get"

"Thank you.." he mumbled nuzzling between them purring loudly

"Get some sleep, we're both here"

That was all Phantom needed before dozing off, comfortable and warm. Dew falling asleep not long after

Let's just say Phantom gets a lot more cuddles after that night

[decagondice]

༓ Candlelight & Shadows ༓

Soft!Sukuna x reader, SFW, Normal AU The power is out, and there is no electricity, but you two can make do with a few candles.

The power had gone out just after dusk, plunging the house into a deep, velvety darkness. Candles now flickered softly in every corner, their warm glow casting the room in a warm honeyed hue. The shadows they threw against the walls shifted and swayed like slow-breathing phantoms, making the space feel smaller, more intimate. The air was thick with the lingering scent of tea—earthy and comforting—clinging to the corners of the room, a reminder of the pot Sukuna had brewed earlier in the evening, before the world had gone silent.

You sat cross-legged on the thick rug, nestled close to the coffee table, an old secondhand book resting between your hands. The pages were worn, yellowed at the edges, curling slightly from age, and the faint musty smell of paper and time rose with each turn of the page. The soft candlelight caressed the faded text, illuminating it with a gentle, amber sheen that made the words seem to glow. It was a quiet world, one that wrapped itself around you, inviting you to lose yourself in its worn stories and forgotten memories.

Sukuna sat beside you, his elbow propped on the table, chin resting in the palm of his hand. His gaze never left you. It settled, watchful and piercing, as though he were committing each flicker of candlelight on your skin to memory. There was an intensity in his observation, but beneath it, a softness—like he was studying you not for weakness, but for the quiet details that made you real in the dim light. His presence was a weight beside you, not heavy but grounding, as steady as the flickering flames.

Every so often, he interrupted your reading, his voice breaking through the silence in a gruff murmur that still somehow softened at the edges, as though the intimacy of the moment tempered his usual sharpness. His questions—direct, but never unkind—came unexpectedly pulling you from the quiet world of your book. You would glance up at him, offering brief, thoughtful answers before returning to your pages, yet his voice always lingered in the air, a quiet tether between you.

The air smelled faintly of jasmine and wood smoke from candles, mixing with the lingering notes of the tea that still clung to the room, like the remnants of a dream you couldn’t quite shake. Sukuna had brewed it just before the outage, his movements calm and assured as he filled the small pot and poured hot water with a steady hand. Now, the two cups sat forgotten on the table, the tea long cooled but the scent still drifting lazily through the air, a reminder of warmth in the softly-lit room.

 In his free hand, Sukuna held a pencil, the soft scratch of it against paper a faint, rhythmic sound in the quiet. He drew with slow, deliberate strokes, his eyes flicking from the sketchpad in front of him to your face, capturing you in brief glances, as though tracing the curve of your features by memory. His gaze lingered on the way the candlelight caught your profile—the line of your brow, the way your lips moved slightly as you read, the delicate way your fingers turned the page. He said nothing about the drawing, his questions always seeming to circle back to you—gruff inquiries that made it clear he wasn’t simply filling the silence, but genuinely curious, though he masked it in his usual, brusque way.

The two of you sat in this shared quiet, the candle flames flickering softly between you, casting a golden light over the room. The world outside the windows was dark, unseen, forgotten. In here, the silence was not empty but full—full of warmth, of the shared breath of old stories and new sketches, of the quiet companionship that needed no words. The moment stretched on, suspended in time, like the soft light of the candles holding it all together, as if the outside world had dissolved, leaving only the two of you, woven together in the stillness.

A.N. After the electricity returns, you take a look at his sketchpad to only find his page covered in chicken scratches and messy scribbles :/ Just joking~ I actually imagine Sukuna being quite skilled in realistic sketching and cooking, with a casual interest in reading on the side. This was supposed to be released way, way, way before but I delayed it.... Anyways, the next scenario or longer piece will not contain both of them at home. (Its the beach episode! :D)

[Also! I am open for suggestions on what to write (my process may be a bit slow though... -_-), but if anyone has any ideas I would love to hear :)]