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ravensuperr · 23 days ago

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DPx DC Prompt-Alternate Dimension Shenanigans

So instead of the usual Casper High field trip trope in the Danny Phantom fandom, imagine this time it’s Damian Wayne’s class that ends up stuck in the Infinite Realms.

Here’s how it plays out:

Damian’s class is on the way back from an overnight field trip to Washington, D.C. Everything's fine—until they stop at a rest area. The bus driver goes off to handle his business, comes back, and they get back on the road.

Then… a portal opens out of nowhere.

They don’t even have time to react. The bus gets pulled in. When they try to turn around, the portal’s already gone.

Enter: Danny Phantom.

He’s just gotten back from visiting either Pandora (weekly chat) or Frostbite (med checkup) when he stumbles on a confused group of teens, their teacher, and a parked bus in the middle of the Infinite Realms.

He blinks.

Mr. Carter (the teacher): “Our driver stopped at a rest stop—standard procedure. Then this portal opened up out of nowhere. We couldn’t stop in time. It just… sucked us in. When we tried to turn around, it was gone.”

Danny: “Ah. Natural portal. Those usually happen to planes, not buses… though, now that I think about it, ground traffic’s not unheard of. Shouldn’t have said that out loud.”

Damian (irritated): “Where exactly are we?”

Danny: “You’re in the Infinite Realm.”

Camila (raising an eyebrow): “So… another dimension?”

Zane (grinning): “Wait, does this count for my bingo card? ‘Accidentally ending up in another dimension’ was my free square.”

Priya: “Are we in space? Or some alien planet?”

Danny: “Nope. Think bigger.”

He gestures to the eerie green sky swirling above them.

Danny: “The Infinite Realm is like... glue. The glue that holds everything together. Every timeline, every dimension, every kind of power—magic, science, tech—they all touch the Infinite Realm. This place connects them all.”

Emily (deadpan): “Freaky. Multiversal glue vibes.”

Suddenly, one of the students blurts out:

Mason: “How did you die?”

The whole class turns to stare.

Mason (shrugging): “Come on—tell me you’re not curious too.”

Danny (calmly): “Okay, so, it’s super rude to ask a ghost how they died unless you’re family or really close. It’s kinda taboo.”

Leo: “Fine, then… who’s your favorite Justice League member?”

Danny (without missing a beat): “Martian Manhunter.”

Zane: “Why?”

Danny: “Because I wanted to be an astronaut when I grew up… and I love space.”

Damian (pinching the bridge of his nose): “Does anyone have a question that’ll help us get home?”

Nina (class rep): “Yeah—how are you getting us back?”

Danny: “There’s a powerful artifact that can return you to your dimension. I just need to make sure none of you wander off or tick off any local ghosts. Not all of them are thrilled to see humans here.”

Camila: “So you can take us back to Gotham?”

Danny: “Sure. Where exactly is that in the U.S.?”

Class (in unison): “…Are you serious?”

Danny: “I know it’s where Batman and his birds live. I just don’t know where it is on a map. Also, I failed geography. And I’m dead.”

Emily: “New Jersey. Gotham’s in New Jersey.”

Danny: “Cool. Everyone back on the bus. First stop: Pandora.”

Priya: “Wait—Pandora? As in Pandora’s Box?”

Danny: “Yep. She’s real. She’s super protective of it. Someone stole it once—I helped her get it back. She’s chill now. I’m going to ask her if you can hang out in her realm while I talk to two people: Frostbite and Clockwork. I need to make sure I don’t accidentally drop you off in the wrong Gotham.”

Zane: “There’s a wrong Gotham?!”

Danny: “This place touches every timeline. You don’t think there’s a version of Gotham where Batman is a vampire or something? Multiverse roulette isn’t fun.”

Class (collectively): “Yeah. No more questions.”

Camila (genuinely): “Wait—we don’t even know your name. We feel kinda rude calling you Ghost Boy.”

Danny (blinks): “Oh. Right. Just call me Phantom.”

Damian (dryly): “Just Phantom? Not your real name?”

Danny: “Not telling you that. That’s basically the same as asking how I died. Still rude.”

Mason: “If I die, can I change my name?”

Danny: “Yeah. You can go by whatever name you want. You’re dead. There are no rules.”

Leo: “What if someone’s, like, gay or bi or trans? Does that matter?”

Danny: “Dude, we’re dead. We’ve got Pride flags engraved into dimension gates. Trans? Cool. Bi? Great. Ace? Valid. Nobody cares. You’re free to be whoever you are.”

Priya: “Okay but… what if someone was transitioning when they died?”

Danny: “Then the gender they identified as is the one they get. Period. No exceptions.”

Zane: “...So it’s like actual equality?”

Danny: “Yeah. Ghost society’s not perfect, but nobody here’s getting judged for who they are. You’ll probably see two ghost guys kissing before lunchtime.”

Mason: “Wait. Have you met Death?”

Danny: “Twice.”

Class: “…What?”

Danny: “Yeah. They go by Jeff.”

Class (blinking): “Jeff?”

Danny: “Says it sounds like Death. Duh.”

Damian (deadpan, to himself): “I need a week off school. Maybe two.”

Damian (out loud): “What about things like Time? Dreams? Are they ghosts, too?”

Danny (nodding): “They’re called never-born ghosts. They weren’t alive and then dead—they exist because of human concepts. Like Time? His name’s Clockwork. Depending on your religion, you’ve probably heard of him under a different name. Same ghost. Different culture.”

#dp x dc #danny phantom #damian wayne #clockwork #frostbite #Pandora(danny phantom)#dc x dp prompt

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akeaaan · 5 days ago

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Until You Called Me Bipa Again

➤ part2

⤷ Jinu x fem reader: reincarnation, angst, slight smut, fluff, flashbacks ‿◞ ྀི 3.6k words

𝟒𝟎𝟎 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐠𝐨, 𝐉𝐢𝐧𝐮 𝐦𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞—𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧’𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐞. 〃✦ ┆You appeared like a ghost from a forgotten past—fierce, untouchable, and destined to fade. But fate has a twisted sense of humor. Now in the modern day, with neon lights replacing ancient lanterns and stages replacing palace halls, Jinu's memories aren’t as buried as he thought. Because you're back. And this time, the past isn’t staying buried.

⋅•��⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Four Hundred Years Ago

In the dust-covered alleys of the capital, where noblemen never walked and lanterns flickered only on festival nights, Jinu lived a life stripped of comfort and pride. No father. No home. Only his mother's fading warmth and the frail laughter of his younger sister kept him tethered to hope.

His most prized possession—an old, cracked bipa, passed down from a grandfather he never knew. The strings buzzed, and his fingers ached from the cold, but Jinu still played. He sang in the markets, in the gutters, in front of taverns full of drunken men—pleading silently for someone to toss a coin, to hear him, to see him.

But hunger does not wait for dreams.

His mother collapsed one evening with nothing but water in her stomach. His sister cried herself to sleep from the pain of it. Desperation crept into his soul like frostbite.

And then he heard it. A voice—silken and venomous—whispered to him as he sat alone under a half-shattered bridge:

"You desire more, do you not?" "Let me make you heard. Let me make you needed."

"...Who are you?" Jinu whispered, heart hammering.

"I am Gwi Ma. And you are meant for more than this filth."

His voice shattering and reforging like molten metal. And when he awoke, the streets no longer spat him out.

He sang again.

But this time, the crowds stopped. This time, the nobles listened. This time, even the king heard of the boy with the voice that could silence war drums.

And so, Jinu was brought into the palace.

The King—stern, aging, but not yet cold—was taken by him. "Sing for me," he commanded. "Often." And he did.

The palace gave Jinu more than gold. He was granted silk robes. Hot meals. His mother nursed back to health. His sister given a tutor. They lived in a small but gracious home within the inner court walls.

Jinu thought this was it. That he had found peace.

Until the day you entered the throne room.

He remembered the moment with perfect clarity.

He was seated cross-legged beside the King's throne, plucking the bipa with practiced grace. His song—an ancient lullaby his mother used to hum—echoed softly in the high-ceilinged chamber.

Then:

The creak of massive double doors. The scrape of delicate slippers on stone. A rustle of silk robes.

His fingers froze on the strings.

You stepped into the light, flanked by your ladies-in-waiting, your posture poised, your chin held high with the quiet command of someone raised among power and etiquette. The King's daughter—his only heir.

Jinu's fingers froze on the strings.

He didn't need introductions.

He knew you — the King's daughter, the only heir of the throne. The Moon of the Court. The Jewel of Joseon.

You moved with reverence, stepping before your father and bowing deeply. As you rose, your eyes — thoughtful, soft, but unreadable — swept across the room.

And then, they landed on him.

Jinu's breath caught.

Your eyes met his, and in that fleeting moment, the sound of his bipa faded into silence.

The court didn't notice — the strings still hummed beneath his fingertips — but Jinu's world had stopped.

There was something in your gaze. Not just nobility or beauty, though you had both in abundance. It was clarity. As though you could see right through him — past the silks he now wore, past the voice that earned him this false paradise — and into the starving boy who once sang in the streets for scraps.

Your gaze lingered a heartbeat longer than custom allowed, then drifted back to your father with a serene smile.

Jinu looked down quickly, his hands trembling slightly as he resumed playing.

He felt something unfamiliar bloom in his chest. Longing? Awe? He didn't know. He only knew that from this moment on, he would remember your gaze more vividly than any melody he ever composed.

You huffed, the weight of your wooden sword pressing against your palms as you swung it in a clean arc across the open courtyard. The sun was barely peeking over the horizon, casting a golden hue across the stone tiles. Each strike of your blade echoed through the palace grounds with sharp precision.

Across from you stood General Jae-won, his arms calmly folded behind his back. A soft, approving smile played on his lips.

"You've improved, Princess," he said, voice warm with pride.

You rolled your wrist and slashed downward with more force, the movement fluid.

"Have I now?" you asked, glancing at him with a smirk tugging at your lips.

Jae-won chuckled under his breath and nodded. "Indeed. At this rate, I might retire early and let you lead my troops."

You were about to retort when the distant sound of footsteps made you pause. Your attention shifted to the far side of the courtyard. A figure moved along the palace walkway — poised, graceful, and unfamiliar.

A young man in soft robes, his hair tied neatly, a bipa cradled gently in his arms. His stride was unhurried, yet there was a quiet intensity about him that made the world around you still.

He passed by, and for a brief heartbeat, his gaze met yours.

Dark eyes. Steady. Curious. But just as quickly, he turned on his heel and disappeared into the corridor beyond.

You blinked, brows furrowing. "Who was that?" you asked aloud, more to yourself than anyone else.

Jae-won had been watching too. He cleared his throat and turned to you with a faint look of amusement. "That would be Jinu," he said simply.

"Jinu?" you echoed, unfamiliar with the name. "I don't recall anyone by that name before I left for the Eastern etiquette academies."

"He arrived not long after your departure," Jae-won explained. "A musician... of sorts. The king's new favorite."

Your frown deepened. "I was the king's favorite."

That earned a low laugh from the general. "You still are, but His Majesty has many interests. Jinu... he brings something different."

You narrowed your eyes, still staring in the direction the stranger had gone. "What kind of musician draws the king's attention like that?"

Jae-won's expression shifted to something more thoughtful — even a little enchanted.

"His voice," he said quietly. "It's magical, Princess. Some say it's been blessed by the heavens themselves."

You scoffed, but your curiosity was piqued. A musician with the king's favor? A voice like magic?

You were a warrior, a princess of steel and fire.

But suddenly, you wanted to hear him sing.

Later that night, the palace was quiet—too quiet.

You moved with calculated steps, the silk of your robes brushing against stone floors as you slipped past your chamber doors. Every creak of wood and distant voice sent a shiver of caution up your spine. The guards were making their rounds, and the ever-watchful maids lurked like shadows in the halls, quick to report anything out of the ordinary to the king. You, however, had learned their patterns. This wasn't your first midnight escape.

You were the crown jewel of the kingdom—the king's only child. A daughter, yes, but no less an heir. Unlike the sons of kings before you, your claim to the throne had always been a matter of scrutiny. Many whispered that a queen could not rule alone, not in a world dominated by men. Your parents had tried for another child, a son to ease the burden placed on your shoulders. But the stars were not kind.

Each pregnancy after you ended in grief—miscarriages, premature births, and one heart-wrenching stillborn. The palace physician warned that another attempt could take your mother's life. Your father, once a fierce warrior now a softer man in love, refused to risk her again. When his court advised concubines, he refused them all. "One child is enough," he had said. "My daughter will be a great queen one day."

But such love came with weight. You bore it in silence—in your etiquette training, in your endless political tutoring, in your sword drills that left your hands bruised and raw. The pressure of a nation sat on your shoulders before your crown ever would.

And so, when the walls felt too tight and the crown too heavy, you sought air. Solace. Escape.

Your feet led you where they always did on nights like these—to the hidden lake just beyond the palace walls. It was a secret place tucked among the willows and stones, a patch of serenity you'd claimed as your own since childhood. There, you'd sit in silence, letting the moonlight kiss your skin, watching the fish stir beneath the ripples. It was your peace.

But tonight, peace was not alone.

You slowed as you reached the final bend of the narrow path, your slippers landing silently on the dew-damp earth. You stepped carefully from rock to rock across the stream, aiming for the familiar curve of the shore where you always sat—and then you froze.

Someone was already there.

A lone figure stood at the water's edge, tall and still, as though part of the night itself. The moonlight reflected off his silhouette, illuminating long dark hair and broad shoulders. He didn't belong to the palace guard—his stance was too relaxed, his presence too... wild.

Your heart thudded in your chest. A civilian?

Panic swept over you. If he turned around, if he saw your face—if word reached your father that his daughter had wandered alone in the dead of night—

You turned on your heel swiftly, aiming to disappear before the stranger noticed. But luck betrayed you.

Snap.

A twig cracked under your foot like thunder in the silence.

You froze in place, breath caught, lowering your head and turning slightly away to shield your identity. Your back remained toward him, posture rigid.

You didn't dare breathe.

The sound of fabric shifting came next, soft footsteps turning your way. The voice that followed was calm, smooth—almost amused.

"I wasn't expecting company tonight."

It was a man's voice. Warm. Young. Not startled, not suspicious... curious.

You didn't answer.

"You've been here before, haven't you?" he asked again, softer this time. "I've seen your footprints by the water."

Your shoulders stiffened.

You heard the faint rustle of grass beneath someone's footfall.

Your body tensed instinctively.

He stepped forward—just one pace—but it was enough to close the distance.

You exhaled, a long sigh of resignation slipping past your lips. There was no point in keeping your back to him anymore. You slowly raised your arms in mock surrender and turned to face the stranger—only to freeze the moment your eyes met his.

"...Bipa," you blurted out—the first word that shot through your panicked mind.

A beat of silence passed.

"...Excuse me?" the man replied, tilting his head slightly. His voice was calm, but confused. You wanted to crawl into the earth.

You mentally face-palmed so hard it echoed in your skull. Of course. Out of all things to say...

You were physically trained for battle, swift with the blade, fierce with your hands—but mentally? You had the memory span of a goldfish.

"Your Highness?" he added, this time his voice gentle, curious. "Are you alright?"

Your lips parted. "You..."

You hesitated as your gaze took in the contours of his face, now clearer in the moonlight. His features were familiar, sharp yet graceful—beautiful in the kind of way that left you disarmed.

You slowly lowered your hands.

"The guy with the... bipa," you finally said, squinting as if the memory would sharpen if you stared hard enough.

He blinked. Then, with a hint of amused patience, he corrected you.

"Jinu."

"Right..." you muttered, voice trailing off in awkward defeat. "Jinu."

He smiled softly—just a twitch of his lips, but it was enough to make your ears burn.

"I see you come here often, Your Highness," Jinu said with a small, curious smile, the moonlight catching the sharp angles of his face.

You rolled your eyes and waved him off with a sigh. "Just Y/N," you corrected, your voice soft but firm. "We're not in the palace right now."

Jinu tilted his head, amused, the corner of his mouth lifting in a smile. "No, we're not," he agreed easily, his tone light, like he was testing the boundaries of a secret.

You turned your head slightly, catching a distant view of the glowing lanterns lining the palace rooftops. They flickered like stars in the distance, unreachable yet always watching. A breath hitched in your throat.

"Don't..." you started, your voice catching in the cold night air as you clenched your fists at your sides. "Don't tell my father."

Jinu raised a brow, pretending to consider your request. "That you've been sneaking out?" he asked, teasing laced in his voice.

You scoffed quietly. "It's called getting fresh air."

He chuckled, stepping aside to make way for you. "A royal taking midnight strolls like a runaway? Scandalous."

You brushed past him, clutching your arms tightly to your chest as a chill swept across the lakeside. The moon's reflection shimmered on the water like silver silk, and for a moment, neither of you spoke.

The silence stretched, awkward but not uncomfortable.

Then, Jinu's voice broke through the quiet as he made his way towards you. "You always come here alone?"

You nodded slowly, your gaze still on the moonlit sky. "It's nice to get away from time to time..." you murmured, your voice soft.

Jinu hummed in response. He was now standing behind you, not too close, but close enough for his presence to feel warm. The both of you watched in silence as the clouds drifted across the face of the moon, casting fleeting shadows across the grass.

"You snitch me out, and I swear I'll break that bipa of yours—" you joked, stepping forward with a teasing tone.

But your foot landed wrong.

The soft soil beneath had turned slick from the earlier rain, and before you could catch yourself, your balance gave way. A startled gasp escaped your lips as the world seemed to tilt.

And then— Strong fingers curled around your wrist in a firm, instinctive grip.

Your body jolted, but you didn't hit the ground. Instead, you found yourself caught, leaning into Jinu's chest as he held you with one arm wrapped around your waist, the other still grasping your wrist.

For a heartbeat, neither of you moved.

You could feel his breath brush against your ear, warm and steady. His heartbeat thudded just a bit too fast, matching your own. The world had gone still again—except for the racing pulse between the two of you.

"...You good?" Jinu asked, voice low, but there was something different in his tone now. Softer. Less teasing.

You tilted your head up slightly, your eyes meeting his. "Thanks for catching me..."

He didn't let go. Not right away.

Instead, his gaze lingered on you longer than it should have, his dark eyes searching your face like he was trying to memorize it under the moonlight.

"You should be more careful," he muttered, but it sounded more like a confession than a scolding.

Your fingers brushed against his chest as you steadied yourself, and for a moment, neither of you moved to pull away.

"...I'm starting to think you like saving me," you whispered.

His lips curved, just barely. "Maybe," he said, almost too quietly. "Maybe I do."

The first time had been an accident.

But now... it was almost tradition.

Midnight after midnight, you'd sneak away from your chamber under the watch of sleeping guards, your steps light and practiced as you made your way to the hidden lake beyond the palace walls. And always—without fail—he would be there, waiting beneath the moonlight with his bipa resting against his lap, his gentle smile like a secret only you were allowed to see.

Jinu.

The court musician. Your father's prized performer. A boy once plucked from the streets and gifted a place in the palace because of a voice that could tame demons and move spirits.

He should have remained just that—your father's favorite.

But you ruined that boundary long ago.

You formed something with Jinu that words could not contain. A sacred bond built in glances and moments stolen between royal walls. No one knew. No one could.

Each time you passed him in the palace halls, your pinky would subtly hook with his. At the banquets, when all eyes were elsewhere, your gaze would find his. And when he sang by the lake, you'd sit by his side, laying your head on his shoulder, listening as each strum of his bipa lulled you into a peace no one else could offer.

You had brought him to your chambers before. But tonight felt different.

The silk sheets clung to your bare skin, warm from the heat between your bodies. Jinu lay in front of you, face soft with exhaustion and love, your fingers threading through his damp hair. His lips trailed kisses along your neck, slow and reverent, as he moved inside you.

Your breath hitched. A quiet moan escaped your lips before you could hold it back.

It was wrong—every bit of this. He was your father's musician. A servant in your world. And yet...

Yet your heart didn't care for titles.

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, breath uneven, arms tightening around you. His final thrust left him trembling against you, his skin pressed to yours like he didn't want to ever let go.

You swallowed hard, throat dry from the sounds you had made earlier, still too breathless to speak.

Then, barely above a whisper, you heard him.

"I love you,"

The words left his lips like a prayer. Fragile. Honest. Final.

You blinked, heart still racing, your hand still in his hair.

“I love you too,” you whispered, your voice trembling—barely audible beneath the weight of fate.

Even if the world would never let it last.

And it didn’t.

The sound of chains echoed louder than your heartbeat. Jinu turned one last time, just in time to see you thrashing in General Jae-Won’s merciless grip. His arms locked around you like iron, holding you back as if you were the one who committed a crime.

“Father, please!!” you cried out, your voice raw, cracking. Your nails dug into the general’s sleeves, desperately trying to free yourself—but it was no use. He wouldn’t let go.

You could barely see through the tears, but Jinu could still see you. He always did.

“LET HIM GO!” you screamed again, your voice echoing through the royal courtyard like thunder.

Your father stood unmoved at the top of the palace steps, adorned in royal robes, his crown catching the sunlight like a blade. His expression was colder than winter steel, his eyes locked with Jinu’s—not as a boy who had grown up beside his daughter, but as something less than human now.

As something cursed.

Jinu’s gaze dropped slowly to his trembling hands. The marks were spreading—dark, curling demonic patterns twisting up his arms, glowing faintly with a cruel hunger. They climbed past his wrists, slithering over his skin like vines. Reaching for his throat. His face.

He remembered the laughter that used to fill these palace walls.

The scent of incense during evening prayers.

Your smile.

The warmth of your pinky finger brushing against his under the palace hallways.

He had forgotten how it felt to be anything other than damned.

Gwi-ma.

You screamed again—your voice nothing short of devastation—and he flinched at the sound. But the guards didn’t stop. They dragged him forward, one step at a time, toward exile. Toward darkness.

Still, he turned his head.

Just once more.

His eyes found yours.

Tears streaked down your cheeks, mouth open in a silent sob. Everything in you was breaking—your heart, your voice, your soul. And yet, there it was.

Love. Guilt. And last...

Betrayal.

Because even though you loved him—more than anything in this cursed world—you weren’t enough to stop this.

Not this time.

And he knew…

Neither was he

Four hundred years.

It had been four centuries since the last time he saw you—not like this.

Back then, your arms were open and warm. Back then, your smile reached your eyes. Back then, he could pretend he wasn’t what he was. Neither of you were enemies.

Neither was he.

But now… now you stood before him again—on a quiet rooftop at the edge of the city, bathed in neon light and moonshine. The wind tousled your hair, but you were as steady as ever. Same face. Same voice. But not the same heart.

This time, your arms weren’t open.

This time, they held a sword. Pointed at his chest.

Your stance was firm, your blade unwavering, its silver glint reflecting the city behind you. You weren’t just someone from his past anymore.

You were a K-pop idol now... and worse— A demon hunter.

His enemy.

Jinu's lips parted slightly, breath catching in his throat as recognition lit up his eyes, soft and conflicted. Slowly, carefully, he raised his hands in surrender, stepping into the glow of a nearby billboard.

His voice came out low. Almost broken.

“...Y/N…”

The sound of your name from his lips made your heart skip, if only for a second—but you didn’t let it show.

You pressed the blade closer to his chest, the tip grazing fabric.

“I don’t have time for your games, demon,” you said, your voice sharp. “Whatever I was before… that’s gone now.”

You took a step forward.

So did he.

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t fight.

His eyes searched yours, like he was trying to find the version of you that used to laugh under cherry blossom trees.

“Maybe it’s gone for you,” Jinu murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “But not for me.”

The wind stirred, lifting a few strands of your hair. You felt it—like the ghost of a memory brushing against your skin. A fragment of laughter. A night under moon light. His hand reaching for yours.

You blinked it away.

“I said don’t test me,” you warned, though your hand trembled ever so slightly against the hilt.

“I’m not,” he said gently. “I’m just... remembering.”

His gaze softened, no longer sharp like a warrior's—but tender, human.

“You once told me I made the stars feel closer,” he said. “That when we danced, it felt like the world paused.”

Your throat tightened.

That memory wasn’t his to bring up. Not now. Not after everything.

But Jinu didn’t move.

He just stood there, bare-chested and vulnerable before your blade, eyes never leaving yours.

“I don’t care what they turned you into,” he said. “If even a piece of you remembers... then I’ll wait.”

You hesitated.

Just long enough for the blade to lower—only an inch. But it was enough.

He noticed.

And he smiled, just a little. The kind of smile that hurt more than any wound.

You turned sharply before he could say another word, retreating into the shadows without looking back.

But deep in your chest, where old feelings had long been buried…

...something stirred.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

➤ part2

a/n: This is actually my first time posting a oneshot on tmblr so I'm really lost lol but I actually like posting some stuff I do now here so there might be a lot of random ideas I made being post here lol, but if you like some angst type of fanfics to read I got you <3

might make a part 2 of this...

#jinu x reader #saja boys #kpop demon hunters #saja boys x reader #x reader #fem reader #kpdh #jinu kpdh #kpdh x reader #oneshot #short story

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apatheticsunday · 3 months ago

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Phantom of the Manor

AKA "The Batfam unintentionally start giving ritual offerings to the Phantom. Danny, who's been mistaken as the Phantom of the Opera, is wondering why his hoodie pockets are full of tomato slices??" prompt idea!

Headcanon that Ghosts become more powerful the more people believe in them, kind of like deities. Danny's never really had to deal with the whole "ritualistic sacrifices to Bloody Mary" or "superstitious prayers against Davey Jones" because Phantom is a Hafta. Danny doesn't need people to believe in him or worship him.

So, he's never gotten a ritual offering before.

Which is why he's absolutely baffled when he shoves his hand into his hoodie pocket to grab his phone and feels something... squishy. And cold. Both Sam and Tucker scream as Danny jolts to his feet with a squeamish shriek. He damn near Goes Ghost as he tries to tear off his hoodie, regardless of the staring mall-walkers. Danny finally manages to fling the hoodie onto their table, scrambling to Sam and Tucker's sides, trying to breath through a panicked: "There'ssomethinginmypocket!!"

Sam carefully pokes around until she finds... squished tomato slices? They're oily and salted like a tomato caprese without the cheese. Which is an interesting choice for a snack. You'd think Danny would at least use a Ziplock bag or something?

("Ancients! Of course, I didn't put them there, Sam!")

Fast-forward a couple of weeks. Danny's going insane because why the hell are there tomatoes literally everywhere? Every couple of days (or hours, depending on the day), he finds different types of tomatoes all over the place. In bed when he wakes up. In his jean pockets at school. Even in the shower, he'll be blindly trying to find the shampoo bottle and come across a handful of grape tomatoes. He can't. Handle. It. Anymore. Danny's going to become the "Tomato Man" at school from how often he randomly pulls out tomatoes from his pockets. Like he needs another reason for Dash to mock him.

The last straw was when Danny was Full Ghost and felt something... itchy in his suit. He knew before he saw it. Danny tentatively pulled the sleeve of his suit open, silently praying that it wasn't what he thought it was, and- yeah. There's V-8 smeared from his goddamn elbow to wrist. He had to fight with tomato juice in his suit for several hours. And that's it; Danny literally can't take it anymore. He goes to Frostbite, begging the Yeti to help him with his Tomato Problem.

Only to be told he's receiving offerings. Which are apparently incredibly sacred and should be appreciated. (It'd be easier to appreciate if it was, like, cash or something. Maybe a Nintendo Switch. Instead, his patrons are worshipping him by offering... tomatoes. Great.)

So, clearly, the only option is to go straight to the source (i.e., his patrons) and tell them to Fucking Stop Giving Me Tomatoes. The next time he feels something weighty in his pocket (gross!), he follows the thready connection of his worshippers through a portal.

And Danny steps out in his full Ghost Regalia (because clearly they're worshipping Phantom, right? So Danny can't exactly show up in ripped jeans and his favorite NASA hoodie). The family sits at a dinner table... which is a little weird, since he'd expected an altar or something. But even weirder is the beady, predatory that look borderline-violent staring at him from everybody at the table. There's an uncomfortable silence more tense than dinners at Vlad's mansion.

Then, Danny carefully scoops out the soupy, baked grape tomatoes from his pocket and dumps them on the table. He doesn't wait for them to question it, just points to the tomatoes and says, "I appreciate the offerings, really, but it's gotta stop. It's gross. I have to wash tomato juice out of my clothes every day. If you're gonna leave an offering, no. More. Tomatoes. Please."

The oldest man seems jolted out of his stupor.

"Excuse me, but could you please explain why you've come to our home?" The man asks cordially. (As if Danny couldn't see him carefully gripping his steak knife like a throwing dart. And that's just rude, honestly. Danny was invited.)

"Uh, I'm Phantom? You literally give me offerings every day. Again, I appreciate it, I never thought I'd have diehard fans, but I don't even really like tomatoes. I mean, they're fine in salsa and stuff, but even I won't eat pocket-tomatoes."

"I believe there may be a misunderstanding. We don't worship a deity named Phantom nor have we left any offerings." The oldest says. He seems like he's about to continue when one of the black-haired adults interrupts him with a nervous, "Uh, B? About that..."

So. Yeah. It turns out Dick Grayson and Jason Todd forced the family to watch Phantom of the Opera, which spawned the joke of offering any food they don't like (i.e., tomatoes) to "the Phantom" (i.e., their trashcan). More than half the family doesn't like tomatoes and Alfred uses it as a punishment for breaking something, overworking, etc. They'd gotten pretty sneaky about scraping their leftovers into the bin but had gotten into a habit of saying "this one's for the Phantom, a treat for the Phantom," or something incredibly stupid like that.

Danny's just... a little relieved, honestly? Because he's literally fifteen and wouldn't really know what to do with followers if he had them. Plus, now he doesn't have to worry about waking up with tomatoes in his bed or making excuses for all his tomato-hoarding while at school. (Which was not necessarily the right thing to mention to Bruce "Serial Adopter" Wayne. Practically the whole table turned to stare at Bruce when Danny mentioned he's apparently an underage deity, waiting for Bruce to sweep in with a well-executed, "Well, it's getting late. Why don't you stay the night?" Because Bruce apparently can't help himself from collecting another black-haired, blue-eyed kid.)

#dpxdc #dp x dc #danny fenton #danny phantom #batfam #mine

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cosmic-dust-poltergeist · 3 months ago

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Thinking about a forever teen Danny interacting with the batfam.. again lmao

[Pt 2 here]

The first time Danny interacted with a Bat was when he was squatting in what he assumed was an abandoned apartment in crime alley. Spoiler alert; it wasn't abandoned! It was, in fact, Red Hood's safe house.

Danny had been napping on the "surprisingly nice" bed, (The bed being so nice should have tipped him off, but he was so tired, damnit.) when Red Hood enters the room, startling Danny awake. They stare at each other for a minute, since neither expected to see another person there. Danny breaks the moment by diving off the bed, snatching up his backpack, and launching himself out the window he had crawled in from. Danny ignores the cussing and calling for him to wait.

Danny ain't no fool. Just because the world seems to be mostly accepting of metas and aliens, doesn't mean they're accepting of him. They haven't repealed the Ecto-Acts in the last 30 years. He refuses to be a lab rat for some shady government because a "hero" wants to "save" him. He's older than most of these fuckers in spandex, and is technically a king, so they got no authority over him.

"Kid! Come back!" Red Hood is keeping up rather well, but not well enough.

"Eat shit!" Danny shouts back before using his small size to squeeze into a space between 2 run down buildings that can't even count as an alley. Red Hood can't fit by a long shot, so he grapples to the roof, probably hoping to cut Danny off. Unfortunately for Red Hood, Danny isn't going that way or back. No, there's a secret passage entrance Danny throws himself through.

He doesn't like being down there. Too many undead roam the halls and can sense him. He's not sure how to help them and currently can't access the realms to ask Frostbite, so he just gives them some of his ectoplasum and tries to get out before their "Masters" notice him. He feels guilty every time.

But all in all, his first accidental Bat meeting was less than 10 minutes.

The second Bat he "meets" is the stabby new Robin. Danny figured crime alley was a bust, so he'd try one of the nicer areas to not cross paths with Red Hood. Unfortunately, the shady building he decided to sleep in the rafters of got invaded by the Bats a few days later. He's not sure who else was there, but Robin ended up in the same rafters.

They stare at each other for a minute, just taking in the other person who's not supposed to be in these rafters. Robin is clearly sneaking in to bust the owners, and Danny looks like some scruffy homeless kid that was just sleeping.

"What are you doing here?" Robin whispers with a scowl.

"I was sleeping." Danny scowls right back.

"Why are you sleeping here?"

"What does it look like? Not all of us have sugar daddies, bird boy."

Was that mean? Yes. Should he act like the 44 year old he technically is? Yeah, but he's frozen at 14. He can be a brat. No one can stop him. And also, this is the second time a Bat has woken him up from a nap, the first time was only a week ago. He's not feeling very mature.

Robin grits his teeth before his com goes off, distracting him, and Danny takes advantage of that, grabs his shit and phases through the wall into the next building.

The third time he meets a Bat is truly his undoing. He got stabbed in front of Nightwing during an attempted mugging. He hates the universe and totally blames Clockwork.

Danny was minding his own business when he got dragged into an alley by 3 drunk men. They're holding knives and trying their best to intimate him.

"Give us all your money."

"Do I look like I have money?" Danny snarks, waving a hand in a "look at me" way. Which, yeah, he's pulling off the homeless kid look really well with how dirty and worn out his clothes. No one in their right mind would look at him and think he has money.

"Hm. Well, if you don't have money, I can think of something else you can give us."

"Yeah, please struggle. It makes it more fun." Well, shit, Danny was not expecting to be grabbed by pedos. Danny bare gets to think about how it'll be good stress relief to break all the bones in their limbs before a tall shadowy figure drops from the roof and lands on the attacker farthest from him. The landing breaks the pedo's leg, his screamings about it are cut off by a sharp punch to the face.

When the shadowy figure straightens and is revealed to be Nightwing, pedo #2 charges him. Between how poorly it goes for him and all the puns and quips Nightwing is making, Danny can't help the giggles that slips out.

"You think this is funny, brat??" Pedo #3 shouts at him.

"Yeah. It's hilarious." Danny maliciously grins at him.

"Why you, just die, whore." And before Danny can question how HE's a whore, he's been stabbed. And it's a pretty good stab if you want to kill someone. It's a jagged downward stab, it nicks his heart and completely fucks up one of his lungs, and the guy even goes the extra step of pulling the knife out. All in all. The perfect stab to kill someone.

Unfortunately for him, Danny isn't just someone. He's already mostly dead, which means while it hurts like a bitch and it's hard to breath, it won't kill him. It does suck he coughs up some blood before he turns off his need to breathe.

Danny ignores the cussing and sounds of Nightwing breaking bones, probably panicking over just seeing "a kid get murdered". And unfortunately, no breathing means no talking in this form. So the poor guy can't be verbally told Danny's fine, and to stop freaking out. Good thing saying something isn't always needed.

Danny lets his eyes turn a glowing bright green before silently stepping to his would-be murderer.

"What?? What the fuck??" Pedo #3 screeches. Danny gives him a blood filled smile before reaching up, grabbing the wrist of the hand holding the knife. He breaks the guy's arm in less than a second, before slamming him into the disgusting alley ground and proceeds to break both of his legs. The way Danny crashed the bones in these limbs means the guy is never going to have full mobility again, but Danny can't even pretend to care. The man targeted what looked like a scrawny 14 year old homeless kid to rape and murder. If anything, Danny is letting him off easy.

"K-kid? Are you okay? What am I saying? Of course not." Nightwing frets and tries to get closer, but Danny is tired of... well everything, so he just turns and books it out of the alley. Danny ignores Nightwing's frantic shouting as he twists and turns out of the man's sight long enough to pull up his invisibility without outing the power. He watches a panicked Nightwing run by before tapping into his flight and taking off to the nearest graveyard. Sitting in the ambient ectoplasum there while drinking what he has left in his thermos will speed up his healing.

He'd so leave this shithole of a city if he could. But Lady Gotham won't let him go and he's positive Clockwork is working with her to keep him there. He doesn't know what they're planning, but he hates it already.

---

After the stabbing, Nightwing and the other two must have spilled about him, because he's suddenly dodging Bats everywhere he goes. He starts developing even worse paranoia because they just won't take a hint.

Talking was a no go at first with his healing lung, but running away, swiping claws, biting, and throwing shit at them aren't exactly subtly "Leave Me The Fuck Alone!!" vibes. Once his lung is healed, you can add in cussing, hissing, spitting, and verbally telling them to fuck off. None of it works. It fact, Danny thinks they like the challenge, which is annoying, but slowly becoming amusing.

Though, even just the idea of him starting to enjoy something means the universe has to throw a curve ball. And this one takes the form of a scarecrow attack.

So admittedly, Danny had no idea what fear toxin would do to him, but Joker's toxins didn't do anything to him, so he thought it'd be the same shit. That was a stupid mistake on his part.

He didn't bother holding his breath when helping the Panicked Bats get civilians out of the attack radius. Any mask that was given to him was given to a civilian before he passed them off to someone with an antidote.

But to be fair, the effects of his mistake doesn't hit him til after the fight is over and the civilians are taken care of. It starts with his paranoia raising. He's suddenly eyeing the people and buildings around him. He can FEEL his parents' gaze on him, even though he knows that's impossible, they died because the portal finally blew up and took them and half the town with it. No one who died as humans from it became ghosts, and the people who were already ghosts died a second time. The only reason Danny and Tucker weren't there was because they were gift shopping for Jazz on the other side of town while Sam distracted her. It was one of the worst days of his life. It's tied with the day his parents vivisecting his ghost half and the day the GIW vivisected Vlad and him, and Vlad just straight up died from it in front of him.

That's relevant because Danny starts hallucinating a half melted Sam and Jazz (there were no bodies left behind, but his brain likes to torment him), he can't understand what they're trying to say to him, but there's the unmistakable sound of an ectoblaster echoing in his ear behind him and he... just bolts. The agents that vivisected him launch themselves at him (he doesn't process the "agents" look exactly the same as when he last saw them 24 years ago), but Danny is determined to NEVER be caught again.

He freezes when melted versions of his parents, wearing maniac grins and holding sparking weapons, cut him off. The moment they so much as twitch towards him, he bolts straight through a building using his intangibility.

A tiny part of his brain is trying to reason with him. There's no way anything he's seeing is real. This is what fear toxin is known to do. Stop and evaluate the situation!

But it's drownt out by the fear. And, ancients, is there a lot of fear. It suffocates his logical thoughts and makes him forget how to properly use his powers to escape.

He finds out later, it took the Bats 2 hours to get close enough to give him the antidote and another hour for it to kick in. They honestly thought it didn't work at first, because just like the toxin, the antidote took it's sweet time to work on him.

He crashed out hard once it did, though. Like, he fell unconscious and stopped breathing. It terrified the Bats and took them a minute to realize he's not actually dead. Well, full dead.

He finds out eventually that they originally thought he was a meta, but after all the weirdness he accidentally showed during the cat and mouse chase, they started to wonder if he was an alien. But the whole fear toxin incident convince them he escaped from some shady organization that experimented on him (not untrue) and killed his family. There's still a bet on if he's an alien or not, and that being why he was targeted.

Which is a fair conclusion, between his powers that seemingly make no sense and all his scars from fighting and being experimented on by both his parents And a shady government agency. It's especially fair after he has a major freak out coming to in the Batcave's med bay. The smells and medical equipment setting him off into a massive panic attack that leaves him behaving like a feral cat. He manages to squeeze himself into the small space between the top of the cabinets and the ceiling and growls at anyone so much as peeking into the room.

"Hey, kid. You're alright. You're safe." Nightwing tries and gets hissed at. He'd been trying for about 10 minutes to get him to come down. "Um, guys, maybe someone else should try. This isn't working. I don't think he likes me at all."

Black Bat steps into the room at his plea and waves Nightwing away. Once he's out of the room, she drops to the floor. The move confuses Danny enough to stop growling at her. He stares wide-eyed at her as she just lays full starfish on the floor.

"What are you doing?" He finally asks after 3 full minutes of silently staring at her.

"Laying."

"I see that, but why?"

"You're scared. I'm showing I'm not a threat." Black Bat sounds amused, but not malicious. Danny stares at her for another 2 minutes without blinking once.

"Why am I here?"

"You're scared. We want to help." She makes it sound simple.

"You can't." Danny lets bitterness leak into his voice.

"Why?"

"I'm not human anymore. You can't "help" me."

"I think we can." Danny starts growling again, so she adds. "We have beds and food and can keep whoever is hunting you away."

He pauses his growling again. "You don't even know who I am."

"You're sad, and hurt, and help others before yourself. You're good." Danny frowns at that.

"You're weird." He states before climbing down and sitting near her. She doesn't move a muscle. "You can't help me without getting in trouble with the government."

"Hm?"

"Yeah, I'm not considered a person because of the Anti-Ecto Acts. Anything that uses or needs ectoplasum to survive is considered non-sentient and is to be turned over for experimentation and termination. And anyone caught helping us can be arrested for treason." Danny explains. "I barely escaped when I got caught. My godfather didn't. I hated him. He was mean, controlling, and creepy, but I didn't want him to die."

"I'm sorry."

"My problems are not your problems."

"I disagree." Danny blinks at her, his gaze sharpening when she starts moving her arm farthest from him. She moves slowly, reaching up and hooking her fingers under her mask.

"Wait!" Danny leans forward a hair as if he was about to physically grab her hand to stop her, but jerks himself back. He sounds small when he speaks again. "Are-are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Why??"

"Trust you."

"But WHY? You don't know me."

"I know enough." Is all she says before pulling her mask off. He slams his eyes shut and claps his hands over them for good measure.

"No, you don't!!" He hears her move, sitting up, before gentle hands pull his hands away.

"Yes, I do." She says sweetly. "Look."

Danny peeks at her. She has a bittersweet look on her face that brightens when she sees Danny looking. She's still gently holding his hands, loose enough he can pull away if he truly wants to.

"I'm not as young as I look." She tilts her head at the seemingly random comment. "I'm not actually 14. Not anymore. I'm stuck at when I died."

He hears her, and their eavesdroppers, gasp. It's the first time he's talked about it. But something tells him to tell her (them, if he's acknowledging the eavesdropping Bats).

"My parents were mad scientists that wouldn't be out of place in your rouges gallery." He stares at his and Black Bat's hands. "They were obsessed with ghosts and made a portal to the infinite realm, where "ghosts" live. They failed twice. Once in college, my godfather was hospitalized from the attempt, and the second time they failed, I accidentally turned it while being stupid with friends and died. They didn't notice, too happy their portal was suddenly working... That was 30 years ago."

There's a choking noise from the eavesdroppers.

"If I stay, you're going to be stuck with a freaky kid that doesn't age and can't be killed by the usual methods and has so much PTSD, like a ridiculous amount of PTSD. Are you sure you want to deal with that?"

"Yes." Black Bat doesn't even hesitate. Danny nearly gives himself whiplash from how quickly he looks up at her face. "Can't scare us away."

"It should. I don't even count as human."

"So?"

""So"???"

"Yes. Why should I care?"

"Why should-??? Why wouldn't you???"

"Kid." An unmasked Red Hood stands in the doorway. "This family is full of freaks and mental illness. You'll fit right in."

The statement strikes a nerve, overwhelming him, but Danny doesn't understand what's happening at first, why his lips are trembling, his face feels warm, and his eyes sting. He hasn't felt this sensation in years. But whatever look on his face makes the infamous Red Hood panic.

"Wait! Kid! Don't cry!"

It suddenly clicks with Danny. He's about to cry. But understanding what is happening, doesn't stop it from happening. Fat tears start sliding down his face.

"Dickie! What do I do?? I accidentally made him cry!! You're better wi-" Red Hood cuts himself off when Danny starts laughing. Laughing at how panicked a crimelord is at tears. Laughing at crying. Laughing at the whole absurd situation.

"It's okay." Black Bat says softly. Whether it's to Danny or the panicky Bat is lost to Danny. But no one says anything else til Danny's tears stop and laughter dies down.

"I was Phantom, ya know?" And he hears several people choke. After he was forcibly retired, this ghost half became known as "The First Hero" in a lot of circles. The GIW repressed the fact he was a ghost when people outside of Amity Park found out about the child hero, they didn't want the public angry with them for making him disappear. It didn't work, Tucker leaked everything he could find. Danny doesn't blame him for that. Tucker thinks he's completely dead since the GIW didn't want to admit they lost him and declared him to have Ended in those files. Danny hasn't told him he's "alive" either. Danny can't bring himself to drag Tucker back into the mess that is his life, can't bring himself to contact the man who has made something of his life, has a partner and kids, has mourned and moved on. He just can't do it. "But before I was Phantom, I was Danny Fenton. But now... I'm just Danny."

"Welcome to the family, Danny!" An unmasked Nightwing cheers.

"I thought Phantom had white hair?" Someone says just outside the room. Danny mischievously leans towards Black Bat.

"Close your eyes. This is going to be bright." He whispers. She smiles gamely and closes her eyes. He gets to hear the others yelp when he lets his transformation take over, essentially flashbanging everyone, but Black Bat.

"Wha..?"

"Hair white enough for you?" Danny says, grinning with too many teeth, that are a little too sharp. Black Bat pats the hand she's still holding.

"Pretty." She smiles delighted at him and he feels his face flush bright green.

"Oh! Um.. Thanks?" He takes a deep breath and realizes something. "Now you know my name, so who the hell are all of you?"

"You don't recognize us?"

"No. Am I supposed to?"

"Eh, most people do." Nightwing shrugs.

"Well, I haven't been able to keep up with much in the public zeitgeist. I just periodically check if it's still legal to kill me. Sadly, the answer is "yes" every time, so meh."

"We'll be taking care of that." Red Robin informs him while stepping into the room and frantically typing on a tablet. "I can't believe these stupid things still exist. The Green Lanterns and Justice League Dark are going to have the biggest fit when they see these. The rest of the JL will help dismantle these too. I'll personally get them to destroy these vile laws."

"Oh.. Thanks, I guess. It'll be nice to not be hunted anymore."

"I imagine."

"Okay! Introductions!" Nightwing gets them all back on topic. "I'm Dick Grayson! Batman is Bruce Wayne. Robin is Damian Wayne."

"Tim Drake."

"Cassandra Cain. But call me Cass."

"Jason Todd."

"Wait, wait, wait. I recognize your name! Didn't you- oh, wait, that's insensitive..."

"It's fine. I did, in fact, die, but I got better. We can start a club of undead. We can invite Spoiler. She technically died, too."

"Literally everyone here, besides me has died, Jason." Tim says, not looking away from the tablet.

"Yeah, but Steph is the only one I'd invite. She knows how to have fun."

"Little wing!" Dick whines.

"Timber can be an honorary member, since he's dead inside, a fun chaos gremlin, and ain't a narc."

"Thanks." Tim says dryly while Dick dramatically cries. Cass giggles.

And Danny? He's tired of running. He wants to be able to be the child he's stuck as while getting respect over his knowledge. He wants to be a vigilante and help people again. He wants to finally have a safe place to sleep.

So he decides to give these weirdos a chance.

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noisilyscreechingsong · 1 year ago

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Image this:

Danny is sixteen. He just found out he is to become King, with a capital K, when he becomes a mature ghost, which is at least 20 years after his death. So he’s got time. Everything’s fine. Except for the Observants pushing his education. Tutors shoving information down his throat like he’s cramming for finals. Princess Dora, Pandora, Frostbite, and even Clockwork checking on him frequently and making a schedule for him to come visit their territories for little learning sessions. Fright Knight has been following his every move. And let’s not forget the other random ghosts he’s never even met before coming to ask for favors or to complain or just give him their problems in general and expect him to fix it.

He can’t even let his frustrations out! All his regular rogues avoid him now! Even Vlad doesn’t want to get involved, but that could be because he’s still bitter about not getting the crown like he wanted.

Good thing he knows a king that has probably been through the same thing.

King Arthur of Atlantis. In other words, Aquaman.

Because Danny wasn’t technically king yet, crowned prince is probably the right title?, he couldn’t just call him up or send a letter asking to meet. So Danny decides to go give the man a visit himself.

Using process of elimination, he was able to find Atlantis after about two months of research and searching. He didn’t have a whole lot of free time, okay?

Turning invisible and flying through the water was a lot easier than he thought. Getting through the barrier was a piece of cake and the castle was obvious to find. What wasn’t obvious to find was the king himself. He wasn’t in the throne room, or his study, or the training grounds, or literally anywhere in the castle. He checked.

No. He finds the king playing some game with some kids in the underwater city.

It was surprising to find him there, especially after the etiquette lessons from Dora, but it gave Danny some hope that maybe he wouldn’t be miserable and burdened with paperwork and boring meetings when he becomes king.

Danny turns visible. They were still invested in the game but the guards noticed him. Spears were pointed at him in a second.

“Halt! State your business,” the guard demands.

The shout caused everyone in the area to stop and look, including the king.

Danny raises his hands in surrender.

“Uh, hi. Sorry to stop the game, I just wanted to talk- sorry, speak to King Arthur, if- if that’s okay? There wasn’t an address to mail to that I could find-“

“It’s okay,” the king interrupts. “Let’s go somewhere private to talk then. Do you have any weapons on you?”

Danny perks up at the opportunity to finally talk to him.

“Yes please! And no, no weapons, sir.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” the king replies with a smile. Danny smiles back widely.

“My king-“

The king holds up a hand to stop the guard’s worries.

When they finally arrive to the throne room of the palace King Arthur turns to Danny.

“Who are you?” He asks in a tone that was a bit more serious than it was before.

“Oh! Sorry. Hi. I’m Danny. Danny Phantom. It’s nice to meet you, King Arthur,” he answers quickly with a nervous smile.

The king nods, obviously thinking about something else as he watches Danny with guarded eyes.

“How can you breathe underwater if I may ask? I’m curious.”

“Well that’s easy, I’m not breathing.”

“You’re… not breathing,” the king repeats with skepticism.

“Yea,” Danny agrees freely. “I don’t have to breathe if I don’t want to. You know, because of the whole ghost thing.”

“Ghost?”

“Yea. Can turn invisible, walk through walls, fly- you know. Haven’t you ever seen a ghost before?”

Danny tries a bit of humor with a crooked smile, but it falls when he sees the contemplative expression on the king’s face.

“Wait, seriously? You’ve never seen a ghost?”

“I’m aware of a ghost named Deadman apart of Justice League Dark but he is invisible to everyone.”

“Really?! I didn’t know that! I need to go talk to him! Where can I find him?”

“Hold on there, guppy. Didn’t you want to talk about something?”

Danny is drawn back to the topic at hand.

“Right, okay, so I was recently told I was gonna be king in like twenty years, which is news to me, and now they are just throwing everything at me with all this information I don’t know what to do with and I’m getting complaints and requests and everyone is expecting so much from me when I’m literally sixteen years old! I don’t know what I’m doing with my life, whether I want to go to college or if I’ll even graduate high school, and they want me to solve territory disputes and create new laws and provide protection for those who want to go into the living plane. I just- I don’t know what I’m doing and the only king I could think of was you, so I guess I was wondering if you could, I don’t know, give me some advice or if I could shadow you for a bit to see what an actual king should do or act. I know it’s a lot to ask coming from someone you don’t even know, but I’m just a bit overwhelmed with everything and I don’t really know where to go from here and was hoping you would at least understand. My friends don’t get it and the other ghosts are kinda afraid of me now because of my title and they wouldn’t get it anyway…” he trails off awkwardly.

Arthur had never had this conversation before. He was honestly flattered and the kid looked genuine. Maybe he’d wait until one of the magic users okay-ed the young ‘ghost’ before revealing any information about himself.

He pulls out a device and throws it the kid. Danny dodges just to snatch it out of the air from reflex alone.

“That’s a communicator. I’ll send Deadman and Constantine your way and call when I get the okay. Where are you located?”

Danny’s toxic eyes were big and hopeful, shining brightly through the water.

“Thank you, sir! Amity Park, Illinois, the most haunted city in America!” He answers proudly.

The king just smiles.

#dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #danny phantom #aquaman #dp x dc writing prompt #prompt idea #john constantine #dc x dp #dc x dp prompt

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deansbeer · 23 days ago

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so uh

camping with dean/beau/jensen (i can't choose), and it's like really raining out and cold. the tent and sleeping bags are practically doing nothing to keep you warm, so the two have to snuggle up together for warmth… which eventually leads to smut may or may not be based on an experience i had (partially)

hi baby!! i meant to post this sooner but i got distracted with work <3

♡ ⋮ minors do not interact.

synopsis 𓏵 stuck in a freezing damp tent during a raging thunderstorm, you and dean find creative ways to stay warm together.

the rain hasn’t stopped for three hours now, and you’re pretty sure your teeth are going to chatter right out of your skull. this whole camping trip was dean’s idea — something about “getting back to basics” after the last hunt went sideways. you’d agreed because, well, when dean winchester flashes that crooked grin and says “come on, it’ll be fun,” you apparently lose all common sense.

except now you’re in the middle of nowhere, oregon, in what feels like a hurricane, and the tent is about as waterproof as a screen door. water’s seeping in from the corners, your sleeping bag feels like you crawled inside a wet paper towel, and you can’t feel your toes. dean’s on the other side of the tent, and you can hear him muttering curses under his breath as he tries to stop another leak with duct tape. because of course he brought duct tape camping.

“this was a terrible idea,” you announce through chattering teeth, pulling your damp sleeping bag up to your chin. it doesn’t help. if anything, the wet fabric just makes you colder. “we could’ve been in a motel right now. with heat. and walls that actually keep water out.”

“yeah, well,” dean grunts, giving up on the duct tape and tossing it aside. “the forecast said partly cloudy. how was i supposed to know partly cloudy meant biblical flood?” he’s soaked too, his flannel clinging to his shoulders in a way that would be distracting if you weren’t actively dying of hypothermia.

“maybe check more than one weather app next time?” you suggest, but there’s no real heat in it. you’re too cold to be properly angry. “dean, seriously, i can’t feel my feet. or my hands. or... anything really.”

he turns to look at you then, and even in the dim light of the camping lantern, you can see the concern flash across his face. dean winchester might play tough, but he’s got a protective streak a mile wide. “shit, sweetheart, you’re shaking like a leaf.” he moves closer, reaching out to touch your face. his fingers are cold too, but still warmer than your cheek. “fuck, you’re like ice.”

“we gotta warm you up,” he says, already moving into problem-solving mode. “body heat’s the fastest way when you’re this cold.” he starts unzipping his sleeping bag with determined movements. “come on, we’re combining these things.”

“what?” you blink at him, brain moving sluggishly from the cold. “dean, that’s...” but he’s already spreading his sleeping bag on the tent floor and motioning for you to bring yours over. the practical part of your brain knows he’s right — shared body heat is survival 101. the other part of your brain, the one that’s been harboring a crush on dean since the day you met him, is screaming.

“unless you wanna lose some toes to frostbite, get over here,” he orders, and that snaps you into motion. you crawl over with your sleeping bag, helping him zip them together into one large cocoon. the whole time, you’re hyperaware of how close he is, how his t-shirt is soaked through and clinging to his chest.

“lose the wet clothes,” he says matter-of-factly, already pulling his flannel off. “they’re just making it worse.” when you hesitate, he rolls his eyes. “come on, we’re both adults here. nothing i haven’t seen before.” which is a lie — he’s definitely never seen you in your underwear — but you’re too cold to argue.

you strip down to your underwear with numb fingers, trying not to think about the fact that dean is doing the same thing two feet away. when you finally slide into the combined sleeping bag, wearing nothing but your bra and panties, dean’s already there in just his boxers. the touch of his skin against yours is like fire and ice at the same time.

“jesus,” he hisses, when you press against him. “you’re like a frozen ice cube.” but he doesn’t pull away. instead, he wraps his arms around you, pulling you flush against his chest. “c’mere, gonna warm you up.” his body heat feels incredible, and you can’t help but burrow closer, dignity be damned.

“better?” he asks after a few minutes, and honestly? yeah. the shivers are starting to subside, replaced by a different kind of tension. because now that you’re not actively dying of cold, you’re extremely aware that you’re pressed against dean’s very naked, very warm chest. his hands are rubbing slow circles on your back, and it’s supposed to be warming, but it’s also doing other things.

“yeah,” you manage, voice coming out breathier than intended. “so much better.” your face is tucked into his neck, and he smells like rain and leather and that uniquely dean scent that’s been driving you crazy for months. his hands are large and warm on your back, and every sweep of his fingers sends little sparks through you.

“good, sweetheart,” he murmurs, and his voice is different now. deeper. “can’t have you freezing on my watch.” one of his hands slides lower, resting just above the waistband of your panties, and your breath hitches. “you know,” he continues, and you can hear the smirk in his voice, “there are other ways to generate body heat.”

you pull back enough to look at him, and his eyes are dark in the lantern light. “dean,” you breathe, but you’re not sure if it’s a warning or encouragement. probably both. “we shouldn’t...” but even as you say it, your body is pressing closer to his, seeking more contact.

“and why not?” he challenges, hand sliding up to cup your face. “been wanting to do this for months, sweetheart. and if we’re gonna be stuck in this tent all night...” he trails off, thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “might as well make the most of it.”

“months?” you repeat in slight disbelief, brain short-circuiting a little. “you’ve wanted...” but he cuts you off with a kiss, and holy shit, dean winchester is kissing you! his lips are soft but demanding, and when he nips at your bottom lip, you open for him immediately. the kiss is hot and desperate, months of tension pouring out all at once.

“fuck,” he groans when you break apart for air. “knew you’d taste sweet.” his hands are everywhere now, sliding over your sides, your hips, the curve of your ass. “been driving me crazy, you know that? walking around in those tight lil’ jeans of yours, bending over in front of me...” he punctuates each word with a kiss to your neck, and you’re practically melting.

“oh, dean,” you gasp, hands clutching at his shoulders. “please...” you’re not even sure what you’re asking for, just that you need more. he seems to understand, rolling you onto your back and hovering over you. the sleeping bag is tight quarters, but he manages it, settling between your thighs like he belongs there.

“gonna warm ya up,” he promises, voice rough with want. “gonna make you feel so good you’ll be begging me to cool you down.” his mouth trails down your neck, across your collarbone, and when he reaches the edge of your bra, he looks up at you. “this okay?”

“god, yes,” you breathe, and he grins, that cocky grin that makes your stomach flip. he unhooks your bra with practiced ease, tossing it somewhere in the tent. his mouth is on your breasts immediately, and the contrast of his hot mouth against your still-cool skin makes you arch beneath him.

“perfect, sweetheart,” he mutters against your skin. “so fucking perfect.” he lavishes attention on each breast, using his tongue and teeth until you’re squirming beneath him. when he finally starts kissing his way down your stomach, you know where he’s heading, and your whole body tenses in anticipation.

“dean, you don’t have to...” but he’s already hooking his fingers in your panties, pulling them down your legs. “oh god,” you gasp when his mouth finds you, hot and perfect and exactly what you need. he eats you out like he does everything else — with single-minded determination and skill that should be illegal.

within minutes, you’re writhing beneath him, one hand clamped over your mouth to muffle the sounds you’re making. the rain might be loud, but you’re pretty sure the whole forest doesn’t need to hear what dean winchester’s tongue is doing to you.

when you come, it’s with his name on your lips, like a prayer and your fingers tangled in his hair. he works you through it, only pulling away when you’re shaking for a completely different reason than cold. “told you i’d warm you up,” he says, looking entirely too pleased with himself as he crawls back up your body. you can taste yourself on his lips when he kisses you, and it’s filthy and perfect and you need him inside you right now.

“wait,” you breathe against his mouth, reaching between you to palm him through his boxers. he’s hard and hot and when you squeeze, he groans into your mouth. “i need you. de, please.”

“yeah, baby?” he asks, but he’s already shoving his boxers down. “you sure about this? because once i have you...” he trails off, but the intensity in his eyes finishes the sentence.

“i’m sure,”,you tell him, wrapping your legs around his waist. “been sure for months.” that seems to break his control. he lines himself up and pushes in slowly, and the stretch is perfect, exactly what you needed. when he’s fully seated, you both need a moment, panting heavily into each other’s mouths.

“holy fuck,” he breathes. “you feel incredible, baby girl. so fuckin’ tight.” he starts moving, slow at first but quickly building to a rhythm that has you seeing stars. the sleeping bag restricts movement somewhat, but it also keeps you pressed close together, every inch of skin touching. “not gonna last,” he warns, and you can feel him trembling with the effort of holding back.

“don’t,” you gasp, meeting him thrust for thrust as much as the confined space allows. “wanna feel you. want you to come inside me.” the words make him groan, hips stuttering. a few more thrusts and he feels like he’s on cloud nine, face buried in your neck as he empties himself inside you.

you lie there catching your breath, still tangled together in the sleeping bag. the rain is still pounding on the tent, but you’re warm now, flushed and satisfied. “so,” dean says eventually, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “still think camping was a terrible idea?”

“the worst idea,” you agree, but you’re cheesing hard. “we should probably do it again sometime. you know, just to make sure we’ve got the whole body heat thing down.”

he laughs, pulling you closer. “deal. but next time, i’m checking five weather apps.” you’re about to respond when he shifts inside you, still half-hard, and your words dissolve into a gasp. “actually,” he grunts, voice dropping back to that dangerous register, “storm’s not supposed to pass until morning. might need to keep generating heat all night. you know, for safety.”

“yeah, yeah. for safety,” you agree breathlessly, already rolling your hips against his. after all, you wouldn’t want to get cold again. and if dean winchester wants to spend all night keeping you warm? well, who are you to argue with survival tactics?

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thekitsunesiren · 4 months ago

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Dc x DP #52

Danny knew that he managed to stop the future with Dan, but he couldn't help but fear the worst. That just because he avoided it once, it wasn't the end of it. What if he came back? What if? What if?

Danny knew that he had to do something-anything-as not to end up like Dan. Well, Dan happened due to many things, but there was much violence and fighting after his parents deaths. So what if Danny slowed down on the fighting and started healing? It wasn't bound to work, but it was a start.

Jazz was excited about his revelation, excited about the potential of them both becoming doctors in some form. Maybe they could even work together! She of course warned him that if he wanted to become a doctor, he would to have work on his grades. Medical school would take a lot of time. And if he was still interested in the stars and technology, engineering would be a good minor or double major. She was sure NASA had a medical team or something similar.

His parents were more than thrilled that both of their children wanted to be doctors in their own rights, even if not ectobiologists like them. Though, they don't know the real reason for Danny's change of heart, they are excited for him nonetheless.

His friends were more than accepting about this career path, knowing how much the fear of Dan returning haunted Danny ever since the incident. Word got to the ghost zone and Ember, Kitty and Johnny have been calling him "Doc" everytime he popped up. Many of the other ghosts who heard the news congratulated him on his decision and praised that healing was a wonderful profession. The most excited about this news was Frostbite. He knew that the Chief of the Far Frozen would be excited about his idea. Which hit Danny with another thought: why didn't he learn about ghost biology and healing too? It would help him learn more about his ghost biology as he grew and adapt. Who knows, maybe the people of the Infinite Realms would like their new ruler as well.

It didn't take much when it came to convince Frostbite to teach him the art of healing. The leader was ecstatic that he wanted to be taught, even. Though he warned that it would be a long and difficult journey, seeing that was a completely different race he was going to be tending to. And each ghost had their own differences. Whether their cores, their biology, or how their obsessions affected them as a whole. He also had to learn the differences between the ghosts who arrived to the Infinite Realms and those who were born from it and how to treat them. Since he himself was a new anomaly for the Infinite Realms, he was both often a subject and a patient for himself and other healers in the Far Frozen. But it interesting getting both view points. It even helped him more when he was

With his skills, Danny was able to go to Gotham with the plans of majoring with a medical degree and perhaps the minor in engineering as to his sisters suggestion. And with so many people cheering him on, it made all the studying and endless hours worth it.

As he studied, Danny was excited to learn more and put his practices to good use. And he believed he found the perfect person to take as his first patient: this Red Hood guy who seemed to be full of rotten ectoplasm.

#dp x dc #dc x dp #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc #dc×dp prompt #dp x dc prompt #danny phantom crossover

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emacrow · 1 year ago

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The first time The Justice league met the ghost king, they were not expecting this.

They were just trying to stop Luther from getting more kryptonite shards after getting an anonymous way to summoned more concentrated ones.

They were not expecting something to follow along after it. Constantine is in the corner cursing up a storm about the infinite king which batman files for later...

Only for a tiny elderitch being mauled the living out of lex, eating every silver of kryptonite (50 pounds worth of kryptonite since he was in the giant mech suit) in sight like a starved savage animal before ploping in mid air like it was a solid floor after a small(cute) burp, before reforming into a humaniod state.... which was a tiny 5 year old white haired toddler with a look of I over-ate a food coma worth of snacks and it was worth it.

Meanwhile Danny was this close 👌🏻 from snapping into a terror tantrum that would made pariah king rage seem like child play after he caught on real quick on what was taking his ghost candy rock medicine supply prescripted to him from frostbite. Fuck vlad and his stupid plan to try and baby him, fuck the ghost zone cause everyone is now babying him, and not even clockwork is taking him seriously but did gave some cryptic hints on the whereabouts of his medicine that would help him grow faster.

It been literally 3 months by now and he has had it with the babying even though he look 5 physically, he is 18 year old! Not even his parents taking him seriously and been using this chance to spend time with him.. which is fine but he draws the line after bathtime, the sailor costume and floaty!

He was practically ravenous to the point of going eldritch form when he went chasing through trail of summoning ghost magic leading to his precious snacks.

He not even caring about the sad bald man in the mech suit after he had his fill and probably overduing eating and is just inducing the process of his food coma.

He is totally unaware of the audience he has right now that being watched on lived TV.

#dp x dc crossover #danny phantom #danny is the ghost king #de aged danny #danny is eldritch #kryptonite is ghost medicine as well as a treat #danny had literally hunting down his medicines snacks #after vlad deaged him with the ghost age revealer #frostbite is not helping but he got a supply of ghost snack medicines #but his medicine been disappearing and he been cranky #dc x dp prompt #one shot

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nanenna · 6 months ago

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This Stream of Consciousness Could've Been an Epiphany

More Sleepy King AU HERE

Can you guess what days of the week I usually have off LOL

-----

Danny isn’t entirely sure what’s going on. He feels like he should be more worried about that, mostly because of how weird Dad had been acting all morning. He’d been so… quiet. Calm, quiet, soft, gentle. Not that Dad wasn’t always gentle. Sure, his hugs and back slaps could pack a punch, but Dad knew he was big and strong and tried hard not to do anything too hard. Danny’d seen what Dad’d done to walls, the way he hugged was downright delicate in comparison. And Danny was a lot tougher now, he could take Dad’s bone crushing hugs easily. So yeah, gentle for Dad was usually still too much for normal people.

But Dad was also usually excited, loudly excited! He was being really quiet today, and it was kind of weird.

Maybe Danny should be a bit more worried about being lost?

But surely if he should be worried Dad would tell him so. Dad knew now, had for a few weeks. In that time alone he and Mom had set about reinforcing the portal so no one could get through without permission. Danny had even taken them on a couple trips into the ‘Zone to introduce them to friendly ghosts. It was embarrassing to introduce them to Frostbite, but also kinda necessary so he’d sucked it up and done it. So Dad knew that Danny has powers, knew just how strong he was. If Dad were worried he’d want Danny to know so he could help.

But still, Dad was acting weird. Nervous. Danny couldn’t figure out why. If he didn’t trust these strangers they were just hanging out with he wouldn’t have left Danny alone with them, right? Then again maybe he felt it was safest to not talk to Jazz in front of them. To keep Danny safe from ghost hunters they’d all agreed it was best to keep it secret, so if Dad and Jazz were talking about him as Phantom it made sense he’d want to step away.

Danny nibbled on his poptart, still trying to puzzle through it. He looked around at the strangers and well… he knew some of them at least. Dad had called the dark one Batman, everyone knew who Batman was. He remembered his parents debating whether he was a ghost or a cryptid, a huge debate that they couldn’t come to a conclusion on. Unlike Santa, that one could crop up at any time. Unlike Santa, this one wasn’t so divisive, guess his parents were less invested or something.

So the woman next to him… looked a lot like Pandora wearing a human disguise. She looked at him and smiled, then reached forward and nudged his mug. “Drink it while it’s hot,” she said warmly.

Yeah, she sounded a lot like Pandora too, something about the way neither were actually speaking English. Danny nodded and picked up his drink, if Pandora and Dad thought they were okay, if they both trusted Batman and the other people dressed weirdly then Danny would too. Even if they smelled like ozone and lab cleaning solvent.

The smell kept getting stronger too, there was a pressure in the room. It had stopped suddenly when Jazz called, but it was picking up again. It was weird, like being in a bubble getting dropped in the ocean. At this rate his ears would pop, or the whole room would implode like that one sub going to visit the Titanic. Kinda ironic, waaaaaaay more people have died exploring the bottom of the ocean than space. Technically, no human has ever died in space, the closest was the Challenger disaster and they didn’t make it to space before the explosion. That was so sad. But it was still pretty amazing no one had died going to the moon, not even Apollo 13! No one had even died in the Justice League, so far as Danny’s heard. Not even a cop-out “technically died in space” while actually fighting bad guys on an alien planet technicality.

“Jazz was just checking in on us, I told her we’ll see her at dinner tonight.” Dad sat down next to Danny, peeking over at whatever Batman was working on as he did so.

Danny nodded and hummed in agreement. That was good, it seemed Dad thought they’d be home by dinner despite being lost right now. That was good.

It was weird though, he hadn’t called her “Jazzypants” like normal. In fact, Dad hadn’t pulled out a single nickname, not even “Danno.” So was Dad worried about them being lost or not? Danny couldn’t figure it out.

The pressure was building again, Danny yawned, trying to make his ears pop. It didn’t help. It hadn’t the last two times either. Or was it three?

Dad nudged the plate with his poptarts on it, Danny picked up his half eaten rectangle and started nibbling again. Chocolate wasn’t his favorite flavor, he kinda wondered what happened to the strawberry from before. It would go nicely with the hot chocolate, a nice contrast of flavors. There was just something about artificial strawberry flavoring that Danny really liked.

Danny slumped over, his body leaning against Dad. He still wasn’t entirely sure what was going on, if he should be worried or not, but Dad was there so everything was going to be okay.

Kinda wished Mom was there instead though. He had no doubt she could easily kick Batman’s butt if he did need to be worried though. But Pandora was there, even if it was a new human disguise he’d never seen before, so that was just as good. Pandora liked him, she wouldn’t let anything happen to him.

The pressure suddenly stopped again. Danny yawned, his ears still didn’t pop. It was so annoying.

“Oh my god,” the guy with a metal bucket on his head hissed, “it’s a god egg!”

#dpxdc #dc x dp #danny phantom #dc comics #justice league #justice league dark #sleepy king au #nenna writes #fanfic #fanfiction #not all HCs apply to both branches #will dani appear or won't she? *shrug*#i'll find out when the rest of you do lol

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novelistwriter · 7 months ago

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The Phantom Hour

DP x DC Prompt

When Danny used the Reality Gauntlet after defeating Freakshow again, something in him changed, he felt it, but thought little of it at first. He should've thought more about it when he felt it, because one second he was spending time with his friends, the next, he's holding a beaten and bloody Vlad, who's Plasmius right now, by the collar with his fist raised. He dropped Vlad and looked around him, Amity had a lot of damage, and he knows that's he's the cause. He goes to Frostbite to see what's wrong with him, but when Frostbite came back to Danny with the news, he can't be returned to normal.

When Danny returns to his friends, they are wary of him, fearing that he may hurt them. They told him that he stopped in his tracks, eyes looking like an animals, he turned into Phantom and began to attack anything that moved. This further fuels the hatred his parents had for Ghosts, causing them to work with the GIW.

Danny, Jazz and his friends learned that Danny "Goes Feral" each week on the same day, at the same time for an Hour. They do their best to prepare for the "Phantom Hour" as the citizens of Amity had started calling it. They didn't want Danny to cause a lot of damage to Amity during that Hour.

And then Danny gets caught by the GIW and is vivisected. He does break out and flee Amity, having no reason to stay behind because the GIW killed Jazz and his friends in front of him, he doesn't realize that the "Phantom Hour" is almost upon him.

When Danny is himself again, he's being held back by Superman, Wonder Woman, Captain Marvel and Green Lantern, with Batman in the back, seemingly ready for anything. When Green Lantern speaks, Danny stiffened, he knows that voice.

"Uncle Hal?"

#dpxdc #danny phantom #dp x dc #dcu #dp crossover #dp x dc prompt

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bloggerspam · 6 months ago

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A Christmas Carol AU

Inspired by a prompt found in the @haunting-heroes-creative-games :) (i.e. back on my shit again)

When a 15 year old Jason, pissed at Bruce for taking Robin away from him, finds his birth certificate he realizes Catherine Todd is not his real mother.

Just as he resolves to go out and search for his birth mother, Jason finds himself accosted by three ghosts in his room, talking about A Christmas Carol of all things.

===

"So, what? We're gonna Christmas Carol him?"

Dan scoffs, crossing his bulky arms with an unimpressed look. "We hated that movie."

"I didn't." Dani chirps, disturbingly cheery, "I didn't see it!"

"We hate Christmas," Danny corrects, "But the movie was alright, and the logic is sound."

"I don't hate Christmas," Dani once again interjects cheerily, "I've never participated!"

"Sound my ass," Dan growls over her, throwing his hands up. "We don't even know this guy!"

"Minor detail." Danny insists, "Tuck can look him up."

"He's a fucking Bat, Danny." Dan scrunches up his face, pinching the bridge of his nose just like Vlad does when he's disgruntled with any of Dad's shenanigans.

"He's a Robin, actually." Dani pipes in, "And he's just a kid. How hard is it gonna be to pretend to be this kid's Ghosts?"

"You're a kid," Dan reminds her, crossing his arms, "And you didn't believe me when I told you sticking a fork in the outlet would shock you."

"I believed you," Dani sniffs haughtily, crossing her arms and pointing her nose up with a snooty voice, "The warning simply did not deter me from doing it anyway."

"We don't have to convince him we're his Ghosts, or even that we knew him before," Danny reasons, needling, "We just have to convince him that we're…"

He hums, pointing at Dani. "Past."

He points at himself, "Present."

He points at Dan, "Future."

Dani does a little cheer, arms up and twirling into the air before landing with her legs over Dan's shoulders, hands and head settling atop Dan's fiery, but harmless, hair. It flickers, before going limp into long white strands that Dani messes up by gently scrunching up the strands and running her fingers through them.

Dan lets her, huffing and looking weirdly like a downtrodden, wet cat. "Why am I future?"

"Because." Danny doesn't continue, because he knows it makes Dan annoyed. True to form, his scowl gets worse, like sucking on a lemon. They all know why anyway.

Dani grins, triumphant and knowing, letting her voice go real deep, "The future," she intones into Dan's hair, "is here."

"The future is now," Danny corrects her, but doesn't lose his smile, floating up to tuck a strand of her hair back behind her ear.

"The future is already here," Dan mumbles his correction, or is it a follow-up? "It's just not evenly distributed."

"How about you distribute some of those muscles, Gibson," Danny sighs, shaking his head "Waiting for puberty is such a drag, and we both know you didn't get the mass from Vlad's side of the family."

Dan makes a moue of disgust, but it serves him right. The consequences of his own actions, and whatnot. He looks up at Dani, who simply shrugs. "I think you'll do great." She leans down to give him two pats on the arm.

"So how's acting out A Christmas Carol gonna help us stop this Jason guy from blowing up?" Dani fiddles with Dan's hair, tongue poking out as she attempts a braid, "Will he even see us? Ghosts in this dimension taste funny."

"He'll be able to see us, it's magically rich enough for some ghosts to maintain a semblance of themselves," Danny explains for the third time. Dani and Dan hum at different pitches, and even though Danny is the common denominator he kind of hates that Vlad has more of a lasting impression on them. "The ectoplasm here is scarce and mostly corrupted, though, so it's rare."

"So there's lotsa bad ghosts here?" Dani eyes the messy braid she's made, proud, even as Dan's silky hair immediately causes it to fall apart, "Or 'mentally unsound' or whatever Frostbite called it."

"No," Dan grumbles, annoyed and indulging all at once, "Corruption begets ecto-rot, but the scarcity means they're not strong enough to actually retain their sense of self enough to rot."

"Shades," Danny explains when Dani looks even more confused, "There's lots of shades."

"Is this one of the Olympian dimensions?" Dani groans, flopping over Dan's shoulder as he sits down on the sofa, "I love Pandora and all, but if I see Zeus again I'm gonna lose it."

"It's one of the hero dimensions," Danny hums, taking over braiding Dan's hair the way Jazz made him when they were little, "There's a couple of Amazons walking about, but on the whole no Olympians."

"I don't know why he didn't just dump me in a Norse dimension." Dan leans back and closes his eyes to their ministrations. "Especially with my current occupation."

The three of them are sitting in Dan's apartment, a large loft studio located somewhere in the UK of the aforementioned hero-dimension. Alber-something, Danny can't remember. Doesn't need to, it being a different dimension from his anyway.

Dan doesn't have a lot of things: a sofa and TV, a bed in the corner, a decent but small kitchen. They're still trying to figure out decorations, but Dan on the whole is a minimalist so it's been slow going.

He's working as a bartender these nights, whiling away his odd existence now that his form has stabilized.

And wasn't that a trip? Learning that hey, adult lightning halfas shouldn't really be mixed with teenage ice halfas, actually!

Apparently, ectoplasm can become corrupted if you try to combine incompatible sources.

Apparently, side effects include (but are not limited to) unmitigated violence and a devastating need for vengeance.

Sound familiar?

"This dimension has a lot of time continuity errors," Danny reminds him, "Dropping you here gave the least amount of pushback."

"Yeah, yeah," Dan flaps a lazy hand, "Praise be the speedforce and flashpoints and whatnot."

"Plus," Dani adds softly, absent-minded as she watches Danny finish up the braid, "Lotsa heroes to help out if you relapse."

Dan heaves a slow, controlled sigh. Danny and Dani both pretend they don't notice.

"Is it bad?" Dan doesn't open his eyes, his voice is so low Danny can only hear him by virtue of his ghost powers, "Like me levels bad?"

"No." Danny shakes his head, leaning into his older self, his older brother of sorts, "He decapitated eight crime lords, killed a couple of assassins, maybe an innocent or two depending on your definition of things."

"Past tense?" Dan scrunches his nose. They all hate how confusing Time Shenanigans are.

"He's living as Red Hood, right this very moment."

"Red Hood?" Dani questions, "That his hero name?"

"Crime lord alias." Danny corrects her, "But he's more of a vigilante these days. Has a bat on his chest and everything."

"But it's bad enough to warrant a trip to the past." Dan points out, "Bad enough for us to try and persuade him. Does he relapse?"

"Not…exactly." Danny scrunches his face, not wanting to explain Clockwork's ambiguity.

Dani floats to spread over Danny and Dan's laps, sprawling out and purring like a cat. Self-soothing, though it's more for their benefit than hers.

"Like Dani said, there’re lots of heroes here, and he doesn't have powers." Danny continues, petting at Dani's soft hair, "The world doesn't end. He doesn't have the means to, even with the ecto-rot."

Danny pauses, and chooses his words deliberately and carefully. "And deep down, Jason Todd is a hero through and through. Relapse would be…difficult. His Obsession is similar to yours."

Dan lets that sit for a moment, but nods, Danny moving a little with the motion. The tension slowly bleeds out as they wait like that, enjoying each other's company.

"If the world doesn't end," Dani whispers, "Why is Clockwork sending all of us?"

Danny thinks on that, on his meeting with Clockwork. The Ancient's voice when he explained what would happen.

He thinks about Jason Todd, about Bruce Wayne, and Catherine, and Sheila. He thinks about Batman, and Robin.

He thinks about Dick Grayson and Tim Drake, about Damian Al Ghul, about Cassandra Cain, and all of Jason's Outlaws.

He thinks about a tattered uniform that stays up in a glass case for a long, long time.

Most of all, he thinks about Dan.

He thinks about regrets and one bad day away.

And then he stops thinking about it, because sometimes the past is the past, and other times, it's the future that never happens that haunts you instead.

"You know, Dani." He settles on, "I'm not sure. He probably has his reasons."

Dan leans heavier onto him, and they lean together like that, with Dani in their laps.

Ghosts of decisions made, unmade, and never to be.

Follow the story on AO3 here!

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p0orbaby · 2 months ago

Note

Hello! If you’re still doing the short blurbs may I request a short one with R taking alexia ice skating? R’s really good and alexia’s really bad. So bad she needs to hold the kids penguin support thing type bad. But she’s a bit stubborn and doesn’t want help. She’s constantly holding on to the rail, falls on her bum and one kid even laughs at her. But after a few falls she finally gives in and lets R guide/help her, and even lets go of the side ☺️

No worries if it’s not your thing!

At first, she’s suspicious.

You’ve never seen Alexia side-eye a leisure centre before, but here we are. A converted warehouse in some unholy corner of South London with strip lighting, a vending machine from the ’90s, and the distinct smell of wet sock. She’s clinging to your sleeve like it’s diplomatic protocol.

“People do this… for fun?” she asks, brow arched, eyes darting around like she’s assessing the risk of frostbite.

“They do,” you say, handing her a pair of skates and watching her stare at them like they’ve personally wronged her. “It’s charming. Festive. Builds character.”

“You’re trying to kill me,” she decides.

You do not deny it.

She lasts twenty-three seconds on the ice before the first fall. It’s not even dramatic—more of a slow, deliberate sit-down, like her thighs have made an executive decision.

“I am not built for this,” she hisses, as a six-year-old glides past her effortlessly and then circles back to laugh. Loudly.

You try not to laugh with the child.

She glares at you from the ground. “I have two Ballon d’Ors.”

“And now you have mild bruising,” you reply, extending a hand.

She swats it away and scrambles upright via the wall like a very determined crab. “I don’t need help.”

“You just got shown up by a child in a Peppa Pig bobble hat.”

“She’s probably training for the Olympics.”

The next fall is less dignified. She tries to push off from the rail, gets maybe three inches of momentum, panics mid-glide, and immediately pancakes. A nearby steward offers her a little plastic penguin—the kind toddlers use to learn. She accepts it. With bitterness in her eyes and pride in shreds.

“This is humiliating,” she mutters, inching forward while clutching the penguin’s ears. “I play football for a living.”

“Exactly,” you say. “Footballers aren’t known for their balance.”

“I do Pilates.”

“That makes this even worse.”

She gives you a look that says I love you but I could end you right here on the ice and make it look like an accident.

You’re already pretty good. Comfortable. Confident, even. You circle around her once—purely to show off, obviously—then coast backwards in front of her like some smug, ice-dancing forest nymph.

“Stop that,” she snaps. “You look like that Disney ice queen, Elisa or whoever.”

“Is that jealousy I hear?”

“It’s rage,” she says, but her mouth twitches at the corners.

Three more falls and a minor tantrum later, she gives in.

You’re holding out a hand before she even asks. She takes it.

“I’m only doing this because I’m freezing and tired,” she says, like you’ve dragged her to a hostile terrain under false pretences.

You smile. “Of course.”

“Not because I need you.”

“Obviously not.”

And then—slowly, awkwardly, but determined—she lets go of the wall.

One of her hands is in yours. The other is still on the penguin’s plastic face, but it’s progress. Her feet slide forward, cautious but brave. You guide her gently, fingers tight around hers, keeping pace. Every now and then she wobbles, curses softly in Spanish, and shoots you a dirty look—as if the ice itself is under your command.

“You’re laughing,” she accuses.

“I’m delighted.”

“I’m never doing this again.”

“You’re doing so well.”

“I hate you.”

“You love me.”

A pause. A sigh.

“Yes. But I hate you also.”

And you can’t help it—you beam. The rink lights are too bright, the air smells like someone’s gym bag, and your girlfriend is hanging on to a fibreglass penguin for dear life, but it might be the best date you’ve ever been on.

Even if she spends the rest of it muttering darkly about broken ankles and national embarrassment.

#alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #woso #woso x reader

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redsrooftopprincess · 3 months ago

Text

Memory

RaphaelxReader

Warnings: Amnesia, Angst

(this is so tropey and self indulgent that I was almost too embarrassed to post it, thank you @the-cauldron-witch for giving me the stones. Apologies in advance. 😅)

"What are you to me?"

You freeze, your pen stopping mid-letter. For the last week you'd been trying to figure out how to answer if he asked, and you were still at a loss.

Don't think for him, Donnie'd said, the memories are there, he just has to form the connections. They'll be stronger, and this will go faster, if you let him do that on his own.

He knows he shouldn't be asking, but every time he looks at you he feels like he's missing something important, and the way you look at him sometimes... he can't bear it.

"We should, um," you clear your throat, looking very intentionally at the paper in front of you, "we should really focus on this analysis. The more data we can feed Donnie, the sooner he can figure out of there'll be any serious lasting consequences to this."

"I'm missing three years of my life, I'd say that's pretty serious," he quips, humorlessly. You still haven't looked up at him. Jaw tight, measured breaths the only thing keeping your hand steady. You'd been keeping it together for the last two weeks, you couldn't break now. Least of all in front of him.

Six hours trapped in a reinforced refrigeration truck. He only survived because of what little body heat you could offer, but you'd both nearly died. You woke a few days later, in the infirmary, your hands still raw and recovering from frostbite, but Raphael... didn't.

For fifteen days, no one knew if he was going to survive. You didn't sleep. You couldn't eat. You wouldn't leave his side. The number of arguments you and Donatello had about you resting were in the double digits. He might lose his brother, he wasn't going to lose his best friend, too. The only way you agreed was by dragging the couch beside the cot Raphael was laying in.

When he awoke he couldn't remember much of anything. Slowly, over the course of the next week, memories drifted back like smoke. He remembered his father, his brothers, April, his best friend, Casey, that dumb ass, Vern, but not you. The last three years are still a blur and none of it makes any sense.

He looks at you like a familiar face at the grocery store. Like something is digging at the back of his mind, something important, but he can't quite place you. He looks at you with curiosity, even attraction at times, but the love that you built and fought for, through death and distance, is gone.

You inhale, before the pen begins to move again in your hand. He reaches up and stops it.

"Y/N..." The familiar feeling of his hand around yours, his thumb gently brushing the hollow of your wrist, makes your chest ache and your eyes fall closed.

Tears glitter at the seam of your eyelashes, as the words slip free unbidden, barely louder than a whisper, "I miss you..."

His hand stills, there it is again. That feeling, understanding just outside his reach, he's pulled to you and he doesn't know why. Everything you do affects him, and right now, you're crying, and he would tear the world apart to see you smile again.

You inhale sharply, pushing yourself to your feet and pulling your hand from his, leaving the pen on the table, "I need to go."

"Y/N, wait," he begs, quickly, standing, "please, I-"

All of your faculties are being used to keep you in one piece. You don't even have the ability to attempt any kind of excuse. "I'll be back tomorrow night. We can finish the analysis then." You shove your laptop into your bag and zip it closed, slinging it over your shoulder, before you rush out of the lair to echoes of him begging you to stay.

You barely make it home before you collapse by the couch and weep. Three years. Three years just gone.

You pull the deep red blanket he made you last winter off the couch and wrap yourself in it, in him, in his scent, because it's the only thing of his you can wrap around you.

You let yourself cry. Mourn. Since he woke up, you've been shoving everything down and away.

This is not about you, you'd scolded yourself.

You'd reminded yourself it must be worse for him. He's probably terrified, losing so much time must be scary as hell. And you'd kept it together. Every time he looked at you with that question in his eyes. Every time he said "hey" and kept walking. Every time he touched you... and let go.

But you've reached your breaking point

The feeling of his hand on your wrist was so familiar, and you were pulled back into lazy evenings in bed, the sunset painting your skin, as the two of you found any excuse not to get up for work. Comfortable, safe, warm. Things you haven't felt since before all of this started. And it was all too much.

Violent sobs rip through your body, as your heart rages in your chest. It's not fair. You'd already been through so much. Fought so hard. And, for him... none of it happened. The bone-deep love and connection that had become so vital to both of you, was ripped away, and you were the only one left bleeding.

You don't notice the soft landing beside the window.

He just stares at you for a moment. He's overcome with the need to catch you up, hold you to him, and do whatever he has to do to fix it.

"It's important, isn't it," he says finally, quietly, "what I can't remember."

You gasp and stand up, clumsily, hands flying to your eyes and wiping pointlessly at tears as you turn away, "You shouldn't be here."

"See, I'm not so sure about that." He steps forward slowly, "because..." His eyes fall on a carved wooden rose, and he pauses. A craftsman can always recognize their work. His eyes begin to scan the dimly lit room around him.

No photographs, but all around him are little things made by his own hands, his favorite books and movies, this place doesn't just feel familiar. It feels like home. His eyes return to yours as he continues his approach.

You fall back against the wall as he advances, "Does Donnie know your here? You really shouldn't be out running around the city by yourself. You're still recovering, it's not... safe." Your breath hitches as your back hits drywall.

He takes your hand gently, holding it just like before, caressing the inside of your wrist. Your jaw clenches, and your eyes sting. As he invades your personal space, your body reacts on instinct, head tilting up, hand against his chest, and his responds, gripping your waist and pulling you into him, breathing in deeply a scent just on the edge of his memory.

"That's what I'm missing, isn't it," he asks softly, tears darkening the fabric around his eyes, "that's what this feeling is... love."

Your heart twists, and you can't breathe. You're trembling with loss and grief and you don't want him to stop.

"I love you," he says, almost in wonder, holding your gaze.

It's like a bullet to the chest and all the air rushes out of you. Tears stream freely from your eyes and you draw a shuddering breath. "You don't even know me," you say, and you swear you don't mean for it to come out as bitter as it does.

He flinches, stepping back, but not releasing your hand. The shame and guilt are instantaneous. None of this is his fault. You look down and away, unable to meet his amber eyes, "I- I'm sorry," you manage, "I-"

"You're wrong."

You look up through tears as he steps forward again, pulling you closer. A hand comes up and cups your cheek as the one around your waist tightens, and he looks down at you with an intensity you haven't seen in weeks.

"I may not know your face, or remember... anything about you, but..." His eyes close and his hand slides into your hair as he dips his head and touches his forehead to yours, "I remember... this," he continues breathlessly, gripping your hair gently, "I remember this feeling... Your skin... against mine. Your scent..."

It's there. He can feel it. Just beyond his reach. He's been grasping blindly. Needing you and not knowing why, needing to feel you under his hands, against him.

The hand at your waist slides to your lower back, pulling you closer. "Help me," he pleads, eyes shut tight, all focus trained on you, voice thick with hope and desperation, "please... help me remember."

Donatello's warnings burn to ash within your memory as his mouth claims yours in a searing kiss.

It's clumsy at first. Demanding. Desperate. Like a dance he doesn't quite remember the steps to. He holds too tightly, moves too stiffly, but you open to him anyway, and a warm wave of sunlight flows into him.

He was so cold. He's still so cold. He can't remember the truck but he can remember the cold. Seeping into him slowly. As time dragged on and his body heat waned he'd grown so tired so quickly. He could still feel it. Frost on his edges. He's tried everything. Heated blankets, hot showers, gallons of tea. He's been trying since he woke up, he just can't seem to get warm.

But where his skin touches yours, it's like holding the sun.

Your heat floods into him like warm, golden light. Like the dawn. Pouring into the deepest, coldest parts, and filling him completely with that feeling. Love. And there you are, beneath the melt. As vital and familiar as his own heartbeat.

His kiss softens, his hold becomes more sure, familiar. It takes you a moment, but you realize, between kisses, he's whispering, "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..." He holds you the way he always has, and he kisses you the way he always has, and soon your crying too hard to kiss him back.

He holds you tight against him, pressing you against his chest, kissing your hair, apologizing over and over as if any of this is his fault. You cling to him desperately, afraid that if you let go it won't be real, that he'll forget you again. You squeeze your eyes shut tight, afraid that you'll be wrong, and you'll look up into his, and you'll find only questions.

His hold tightens and his eyes burn. He's angry. This is unacceptable. Unfair. He got played, and he was supposed to die in that truck. What the Oroku fuckers didn't count on, what they never count on, is you. You'd pressed yourself against him, sharing what little warmth you could. By the time the others found you, both of you were unconscious and hypothermic, but still alive, Raphael's large body wrapped tightly around yours. You'd kept his heart beating. Just like always.

He pulls back and attempts to raise your chin to meet his eyes. You resist. He can smell your fear, feel the pounding of your heart under his fingertips.

He rests his head against the side of yours and speaks your name softly, in the same voice that has pulled you peacefully from sleep a thousand times. Another sob escapes you and you curl into him tightly, before a few moments pass and you unfurl, your eyes raising to meet his.

The weight of his gaze settles on you and you never thought you could be grateful to see such depths of pain within him, but within the pain was... everything else. From the depths of despair to the heights of ecstasy, every moment of the last three years was a storm inside his eyes.

You can see the naked rage, swirling in the tempest, and it mirrors your own. Those responsible would be dealt with, later. Now, you reach back behind him, and he dips his head to make it easier for you to remove his mask. You toss it aside, and he presses his forehead to yours. You rest your hands on either side of his face, tracing the familiar scars, and you can feel his shuddering exhale.

"I love you."

"I'm sorry."

"Raphael-"

"I didn't mean to-" His breath catches on a sob, and you pull him tighter against you. Burying his head in your shoulder, he wraps his arms around your waist and breathes deep. If scent is the strongest sense tied to memory, he would bury himself in you. He would never forget again.

....

I know this isn't how amnesia works, okay??? I KNOW the plot here is swiss cheese!!! but it got stuck in my head and now you have to deal with it too, so there.

...

Tag list

@thelaundrybitch @the-cauldron-witch @fyreball66 @ninnosaurus @tmntngl @thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos @zagreustomb @ramielll @silverwatergalaxy @gornackeaterofworlds @daedric-sorceress @sophiacloud28 @iridescentflamingo @milykins @sacred-holy-light @celeste-clearwater-06 @pheradream-15

#tmnt #tmnt bayverse #tmnt raphael #bayverse raphael #bayverse tmnt #raphael x reader #bayverse raphael x reader #tmnt raphael x reader #raph x reader

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emmyrosee · 2 years ago

Text

“It’s too hot for you to lay on top of me.”

Kiyoomi drapes an arm over his face dramatically as you do, in fact, settle on top of him, your eyes boring into him happily with your fingers tracing over his sternum, body draped between his legs. The box fan just a few feet away whirs to try and combat the thickness of Osaka air and why didn’t you invest for an air conditioner in your new apartment-

“You’re too hot for me to not lay on top of you,” you hum back, unbothered by the heat and focused on him. “Rain, sun, heat or snow can’t stop me from bugging you, you know that.”

“I figured once we hit physical stickiness that you’d have some mercy on me.” You quirk a brow at him, and he shrugs, “yeah, I heard it as soon as I said it.”

“I don’t know what you think this is, but you’re cute for denying it.”

Kiyoomi does offer you a weak chuckle and tired smirk, and he feels your eyes completely fixated on him as he preforms these completely subconscious acts.

He’d blush if he wasn’t absolutely sweating right now- or not used to it.

Your eyes are always on Kiyoomi, you know he knows, you’re sure to make sure he knows- be it from physically looking at him so focused he feels your pupils shake over him and his body, or telling him ‘hey, you look like I’m gonna bite you later.’

That one, he didn’t believe until you did, leaving him with teeth marks littering his shoulders and biceps.

He does admire your ability to flirt right now. He could die on this bed if you’d let him.

“Hey,” you whisper, nosing at the softness of his tummy. He lifts one of his fingers to peek at you. “I love you.”

“Love you too, baby,” he mumbles, too hot to try and tease. His free hand cups your warm cheek and gently strokes his thumb over it, which you nuzzle into happily, eyes softly closing to relish in the feeling.

He lets his head fall back against the pillow, hand continuing to gently stroke your cheek with his long fingers. You lay your head down on his stomach, ear pressing to the muscle just above his navel. The room is quiet, save for the tired box fan and honking horns outside.

“You hungry?” You ask suddenly. “Your stomach’s making weird noises.”

“I want ice for dinner,” he murmurs. “And snow. And frostbite.”

“Yeah. Then come winter and you’ll be pissed that it’s so cold,” you snort.

“If I had the energy, I’d flick your forehead.”

“Well it’s a good thing you don’t.”

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elliespassagerprincess · 9 months ago

Note

What about Ellie taking readers first kiss?!?🤭 very nervous reader?? anxious somewhat but also super excitedd

Frostbite - (ellie williams x reader)

Hi anon!! i did it a little differently from your request, i hope you don't mind. I could not stop writing this, i might make a part 2 to this... I hope you enjoy <333

Pairing: ellie x fem!reader

requests are open! send me your silly thoughts

Warning: none

Summary: in which you shared a special moment with her

authors note: did i mention Christmas in this because I'm excited for December? yes.

masterlist

Jackson was covered in thick layer of snow. Everyone was wearing puffer jackets, mittens and beanies hoping that the cold air wouldn't affect them. You walked down the street seeing how people were hanging Christmas lights, and how the children stared at everything in awe. The children made snowmen, and you knew that soon the town would be buzzing with people as they started to buy gifts for their families.

As beautiful as the holidays were, you hated it. Every year you'd end up alone in your house, listening to carols being sang. You're be filled with a emptiness that you can't explain.

You missed your family every year. You'd always imagine the type of life you'd be living if the outbreak never happened.

You sat in the local garden, shivering slightly when the cool breeze blew past you.

"There you are, i was looking for you"

you turned your head to that voice.

Her voice.

Ellie Williams.

You rolled your eyes "you need to stop looking for me"

"i missed you though" she pouted

You hated when she did this.

When she'd come after you with nice words, pretending like she cared.

Maybe she did and you didn't believe her. At this point you don't know how to feel.

When Ellie first arrived in Jackson the two of you were inseparable.

"We were bound to be friends" she'd always say.

Sleepovers, makeovers, baking, watching old movies, you did everything together.

But the older the two of you grew, things became different.

You both got new friends, new interests. You used to spend every waking second of the day together, now the two of you only awkwardly said hi when you saw each other in public.

You both had reasons for the sudden distance.

You thought Ellie had outgrown your friendship. One day she'd be smiling with you, the next day she'd barley look at you.

Ellie on the other hand, was in love with you.

She suddenly became self-aware of how she looked, how she smelled, how she spoke. She didn't want to embarrass herself. The best solution to her problem (or what she thought was right) was avoiding you.

Now that she's older she has realized that damage her avoiding you caused.

Years had gone by and the two of you lived separate lives, but Ellie's feelings for you never went away. She was stuck on you.

No matter how many girls she dated, kissed or hooked up with, she knew her heart belonged to you.

The older Ellie grew, the more attractive you found her and some days you're actually glad the friendship ended.

Imagine you were best friends with the girl you loved?

Both of you assumed your feelings were one sided. Until the rumors started.

It all started when a girl randomly slapped you across the face saying that Ellie moaned your name while they were doing the deed.

She's been avoiding you but she's moaning your name?

You weren't sure if you should feel flattened or disturbed.

You'd hear more stories as the years went on.

"She liked you" , "She misses you" You weren't sure if this was even true. Maybe it was all just a sick joke.

Even with all the drama you missed her. The friendship. The cheesy jokes, the stupid stories. You just missed her.

You were actually happy when Ellie slowly started coming back into your life. It went from just saying hi occasionally, to small life updates to full sleepovers.

It was just like old times.

Your heart ached for her even more, now you're getting close again. As much as you enjoyed the friendship, you couldn't help but want more.

You noticed her lingering touches, the small glances.

Maybe you were being delusional? Maybe you were reading into it?

You could feel a connection, but does she feel it too?

Maybe the rumors weren't true.

"You saw me earlier els, you cant miss me"

"I just love spending time with you"

fuck, how many girls has she said this to?

"i want to-" she went silent, not finishing her sentence.

She seemed nervous.

From the corner of your eye you see her moving closer to you, her arm wrapping around your shoulders.

You shiver at the close contact.

"Why are you so close?" You ask in a whisper

"I'm keeping you warm"

It was winter and its really fucking cold but suddenly you were hot. You were almost sweating because of the close proximity.

This is closest she's been in years.

Ellie leaned closer towards you, so close you could feel her breathe on your cheek. Your heart races, you felt comfortable in her presence, you palms felt clammy.

You were nervous.

Why does she make you nervous?

"Can i kiss you?" Ellie suddenly asked.

Without hesitation you said yes.

Before your lips crashed into hers, your body turned hot, your breathing came out in short breaths. You turned to her and and her hand gently touched your cheek, you leaned in first.

Since when are you bold? Were you really this desperate?

As soon as your lips made contact, you felt butterflies explode in your stomach. She pulled you closer by the waist and you grabbed her face bringing her closer than she already was.

Your heart was beating so fucking fast, you assumed she could probably feel it.

"Your lips are...cold" you softly chuckle as your fingers brushed against your lips.

Did this just happen?

You were suddenly hyperaware of your surroundings.

Did you breath smell ok? Did you kiss ok?

Fuck now you were really nervous.

Ellie didn't respond and there was a comfortable silence between the two of you.

Ellie spoke up eventually "I've always wanted to do that"

You stayed silent blushing at her words.

"Do you want to come back to... my place so we can talk about us.... and i know you hate being alone during the holidays so can we perhaps... i don't know... go?"

"Yeah... I'd like that"

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