#[Phantom Or Agent?] - IC

[phantom-vs-agents]

"Faker? Ah think ye'r th' fake cat aroond 'ere. Ye'r comparing yersel' tae me? Hah! Ye'r nae even class enough tae be m'fake." Kellas jeers to Blaze.

[prim3dsins]

@phantom-vs-agents asked: "Nice tae see ya love~. Good tae see yer keepin' in shape." With a smack, Kellas places a hand on one of Blaze's cheeks. A perk of living with the royal princess, he considers.

At first, Blaze didn't even look in Kellas' direction when he greeted her. Mostly just assumed it was to be a run of the mill passing interaction. Of course, his follow up comment after the greeting was suspect, but it's not as though he's afraid of having a an "unkempt" mouth.

And then he suddenly smacked her ass and kept his hand on her. All of which had the princess yelp, blush, and then quickly swat the side of his face. He could handle it, she new that much from his own rigorous training and past. Which also meant that he deserved it for surprising her like that. " Kellas! "

Curse her sensitive backside.

[ririblogsss]

Danny the park crazy guy

Ok this follows Danny with him deciding he needs to get out of Amity Park cause he's parents are getting more and more obsessed with catching Phantom. And the plans he'd over heard were sending him into panic attacks. Not only that a new management was placed for the GIW, and with that they had become more brutal and accurate with their capturing. Danny couldn't make sure ghosts were safe and protect civilians, so Danny made a deal with Technus in exchange for most of the tech Danny has made in the past 6 months Technus has to hack into the portals that his parents and Vlad owned and permanently destroy them. Technus also made sure to wipe all the information on how to re-build the portal and planted a bug that will corrupt any file trying to mimic the portals code/mechanics. 

At first Dannys plan was to play the part of the defenseless boy who just witnessed his parents whole life work go down the drain, and pretend that ghost never happened. He's parents were sad (understatement of the century) but they soon found something to hyper focus on, before becoming ecto-biologist, they were trying to find ways to make liquid that would dissolve plastic in a non-lethal and non-toxic way. So after 2 months of not doing anything and only staying in bed eating ice-cream and fudge its like a light bulb turned on onto of their heads, and Madeline and Jack went back to their old selves. They still had moments were they would gaze back at their projects with heartbroken eyes, and Danny could help but blame himself for his parents suffering. 

Its like one day everything was close to normality (as normal as amity park could be) people weren't mentioning ghost in fear that one would appear out of spite. Classes went uninterrupted people were actually happy for that. 

But then the GIW started making moves, as they were getting more and more restless with no ghost sightings in the last 6 months. 

Then 3 months ago everything went to shit......

Danny could only explain it as if the Salem witch trials had started. But instead it was the 21st century and people were being accused of being / cooperating / aiding ghosts. The GIW had stormed into the town hall and had claimed that Amity park was in full quarantine. No one in no one out. Vlad was taken in for 'investigation' accused of working with the ghost because he never helped the GIW or offered funds, hence committing treason the US government. 

After that People would be taken out of their homes and obligated to take tests to prove they weren't with the enemy, if they passed they went back to their homes traumatized. if they failed.... Well no one really knows, but one might guess from all the screaming. 

Ironically. Dannys parents were the fist accused of cooperating with the enemy. The GIW stated that they seemed suspicious from the start as they never truly caught anything. he hadn't seen them since they were drugged and stuffed into the back of a van. Danny was thankful that Jazz (for collage) and Dani (traveling in Bangladesh) were out of Amity, but it wasn't like he could contact them and tell them what was happening. 

The GIW had cut all contact to the rest of the word from Amity Park probably because what they were doing was considered illegal and definitely were crossing human rights. 

Luckily Sams and Tuckers family were able to come to an agreement with the GIW so they could be exempted from the quarentine (buy themselves a way out). Unluckily Danny like most families didn't have those types of resources. 

But Danny isn't a Fenton for nothing, craziness, gull and genius ran through his veins. So every morning when they were obligated out of their homes and made to sit on the grass of the park square while the agents searched for any 'evidence' in their homes. Danny would use his core to emit a frequency that only other ghost and some metas could hear. But that wasn't what Danny was communicating to no. 

He was sending commands to all the animals he had befriended the last 15 years of his life. You see ever since Danny was a kid he loved how one could be able to domesticate any animal as long as you had food. So Danny when he was a kid applied The Operant conditioning to all the animals he crossed paths with. 

A few weeks after his accident (death) when Danny was making his daily feeding times for the animals in exchange for trinkets and money he realized something. He could understand what the animals 'spoke' and the animals could understand him through the vibrations of his core. When he asked CW about it he only told him that ghost speak allowed him to communicate with anything and anyone if he had a close enough relationship towards them. 

Basically this meant that Danny had hundreds if not thousands of animals (rats, street dogs and cats, pigeons, squirrels ect.. ) at his disposal. The only reason he never used them when fighting Ghosts was obvious he wasn't going to risk the life of his friends. 

And right now his friends were making underground escape routes for all of the Amity Parkers. The plan was already being set in motion. Everyone knew their part. 

One group would be distraction, a group of kids would scream and point in the opposite direction of the escape route and say they had seen a ghost and it was trying to hurt them. The GIW would be guided into a wooded area were they would be attacked by the more predatorial animals. Making them call for back up. 

One group would composed of the most athletic adults / young adults would go into the main base of the GIW (check for survivors and help them get out). 

Another group (the elderly) was in charge of checking that everyone was accounted for. 

Mothers, would be evacuated first with their children, they would be the get away drivers. Different drivers would take different routs. Some left the country other the continent itself. Some when to larger cities for hiding amongst the crowd. But the main goal was stick to your family and preferably if you can go alone. The less people the less likely you are to getting caught. 

And the teenagers from casper high, would ensure all their traces were lost making sure all phones and gadgets were left behind, as to avoid getting tracked down. 

And that's how Amity Park became a dead town (pun intended) in less than 60 minutes. 

This leads us to the present. 

It had been 7 months since Danny had left Amity park. he hadn't seen anyone or contacted anyone from there since. The over all consensus was that everyone had to go no contact with one another as to not raise awareness as to why so many people from different places were constantly calling one another. Danny was certain that Jazz and Dani had been contacted by Sam and Tucker about the situation in Amity. What he wasn't sure of is if they knew he was out of Amity or even alive for that matter. 

Danny was not dealing with what happened well. One of the guys who went into the Town Hall pulled him a aside for a second when they were evacuating to tell him. That he had seen both his parents bodies. They had not survived. Not many who were taken against their will into the Hall came out spared. 

Danny was devastated with his parent untimely death, he only hoped they had a humane one. 

So no Danny was not ok. he knew Jazz would criticize his copping methods. But if taking over a park in the middle of a crime riddled city was sooooo bad then why did he have the support of the Bats. (not the vigilantes the actual cave bats). 

Danny had gotten to Gotham not too long ago (about 4 1/2) months, and decided that the GIW wouldn't dare on their life go into a city were the 'wolds greatest detective and most feared man live'. Danny made an abandoned building overlooking the park his own. he quickly became allies with the fauna there and soon his rein over the part began. 

---

It started slowly, honest to god not a single local though anything of the bony kid laughing his ass off as he oversaw birds and other critters alike help him build what looked like a greenhouse. They did what any Gothamite would do mind their own damn business and go on with their day. 

It wasn't unlit the trees and torn plants started to build a wall like structure around the park that they started to think that the kid was going to be the next Poison Ivy. Worst of all they some have speculated seeing Pamela and Harley go in and out of the park... both smiling like proud parents. Some say that the kid was an ex Wayne kid that was sent into an asylum, and was kept quiet. Some speculate that the kids a meta that controls all animals. Some state they saw the kid talk to the animals and the animals actually listened and did word for word what he asked. 

But Gothamites weren't that worried if they were honest. The kid (Danny as he was now known) brought more entertainment (of the good kind) to Gotham he fit right in. The only thing that made him stand out was his mid-western accent. When asked where he was from he would only stare at you while an animal (different every time mostly racoons) would chase you away. Other than that the kid was a sweetheart he would often bring the veggies and fruits he cultivates in the park to homeless shelters so that the residents would have a 'more nutritious and full diet'. 

The kid would send animals to keep watch on kids and be alerted if any were at risk he would drop in and help in a very unusual way. And he always traded money for little things and bottle caps anything handmade (especially by kids) was infinitely rewarded with money and an automatic meal. 

Danny was known as the Gotham parks crazy. But he was their crazy and no government (illegal) agency of a brigade of bats and birds was going to take him away from them. 

(waaa this was way longer that expected I only wanted to write a sentence of local crazy Danny, and I just ended up writting mostly art other stuff)

[pin-k-ink]

bereft // nakahara chuuya

tw ⇢ enemies to lovers, alcohol consumption, sexual tension, accidental love confession, mutual pining, making out, cunnilingus, marking, squirting, pet names, dirty talk, unprotected sex, implied masturbation, creampie, so much feelings, angst, character death, implied suicide, canon divergent

wc ⇢ 11.9k

a/n: uuuuuuh

The dingy Port Mafia bar thrums with raucous energy, neon lights casting lurid shadows across the smoky haze. Drunken laughter and slurred jeers ricochet off the stained walls, punctuated by the clink of glass and rattling ice.

And you've never been so goddamn tense in your life.

It's not like this vile atmosphere is anything new to you. As an agent of the Armed Detective Agency, seedy dens like this are just another Tuesday night's stakeout locale. You've posed as provocative arm candy more times than you can count, all in the name of gathering intel or inching closer to a high-priority target.

But there's something about the charged undercurrent crackling through this specific Port Mafia haunt that sets every nerve on high alert. Perhaps it's the debauched gazes burning into you from the leering criminals crowding the bar. Or the unmistakable sense of danger that lurks behind even the most minor-seeming mafioso's sneering smiles as they appraise your figure lounging in the corner.

You're supposed to be just another jaded call girl looking to cultivate some wealthy "clients" tonight. But you're hyper-aware of the slight bulge beneath your tight minidress - a meticulously concealed holdout pistol that's already becoming sticky against the inside of your thigh from clammy perspiration.

Exhaling a breath, you try to assume an air of boredom as your hooded eyes lazily roam the rowdy crowd. In through the nostrils, out through the pursed lips, nice and slow. You are the picture of vacant disinterest.

Until your roving gaze inadvertently lands on a shockingly familiar figure near the bar, and you instantly choke on the lungful of smoke-hazed air.

There, hunched over a glass of whiskey with furrowed brow and glowering into the amber liquid...is Nakahara fucking Chuuya. That gorgeous mess of orange hair is just as unruly as always, his slim form clothed simply in one of his signature crisp white shirts and dark slacks. You'd recognize the dangerous aura surrounding that unassuming body anywhere, no matter how casual he appears.

A phantom ache blossoms in your abdomen at the sight of him, flashing back to your first run-in with those bullets that marked the start of your endless, bloody game of cat-and-mouse. Unbidden, your fingers twitch toward the reassuring hardness tucked against your outer thigh, mentally counting the number of shots to subdue him.

Just as quickly, you berate yourself for the impulse. Need you forget already? This depraved confrontation was the entire purpose of your undercover operation tonight. Getting close to Chuuya and exploiting any potential vulnerability that could be used to dismantle his new plans...that was the mission you willingly walked into.

Dragging your eyes away from his brooding figure feels like monumental effort. But you manage to resettle your features into that of aloof disdain just as one of the rowdier patrons lets out a wolf whistle in your direction.

"Hey there, pretty thing! You lookin' for some company tonight?"

Here we go - time to work the role you've inhabited so many times before. Tilting your head, you shoot the drunken man your most sultry look, allowing your gaze to brazenly roam over his stocky frame before giving a coy flutter of your lashes.

"Depends...you got the cash to keep me interested, bigboy?"

The loutish grin stretching over his pock-marked face is all the response you need. With a slight sway of your hips, you slink across the bar toward his beckoning hand, mind already whirring on how to maintain this high-risk gambit of seduction and deception.

Just another job in the field, right? You can do this. Stay focused, do not give in to distraction or doubt.

Even if the persistent nagging at the back of your mind unceasingly whispers that those rules unequivocally do not apply whenever Chuuya is involved.

You paste on your most coquettish smile as the greasy patron waves you over with a meaty paw, making sure to add an extra sway to your hip movements. This guy clearly can't resist playing the big man around a pretty face.

"Well now, ain't you just the whole package?" he leers, giving you an exaggerated once-over as you slide into the empty seat beside him. The stench of stale beer and cheap cigars washes over you, making you fight back a wince.

"I do try my best," you murmur demurely, pitching your voice into that husky, sultry register that drives most men wild. Slowly, you lean in closer until your curves are almost brushing against his burly arm, holding his unfocused gaze through the veil of your lashes. "Though I'm sure a strapping guy like you already knew that."

The drunk's chest puffs out slightly at the transparent ego stroke, just like you knew it would. "Heh, damn straight, baby. Feel like letting ol' Daisuke here show you a good time?" One ham-sized hand starts inching up your exposed thigh with inevitable confidence.

Showtime. You allow your lips to quirk into the barest hint of a smirk, keeping your tone low and seductive. "Is that so? Well...I do have pretty discriminating tastes." Gently but firmly, you catch his wandering paw and guide it back to rest innocuously on the bartop. "Why don't you start by getting me a top-shelf drink, stud? Let me know if you've really got the means to keep me..."

You pause to lean in until your mouth is brushing his ear, voice dropping to a whisper. "...satisfied."

The shudder that ripples through Daisuke's broad frame is unmistakable, his pupils dilating to saucer-like dimensions. Without needing to be told twice, he frantically barks for the disgruntled bartender.

As the sleazy patron busies himself ordering the most expensive whiskey in an obvious bid to impress, you allow your gaze to drift away with studied nonchalance. But like a magnet, your eyes are subconsciously seeking out that head of mussed orange hair seemingly out of compulsion. And there he is, still brooding silently over his drink just a few spaces down the bar from where you sit...

Chuuya doesn't appear to have noticed your arrival yet, thank whatever deities exist. His shoulders are hunched and tense beneath that fitted white dress shirt, every once in a while raising his glass to take a measured sip.

You can't quite make out his expression from here, but there's something almost melancholy in the set of his jaw and the slight furrow of his brow that draws your eyes like a magnet. You find your curiosity piqued against your better judgment - just what circumstances could leave even the infamous Chuuya looking so uncharacteristically pensive and...dare you think it...vulnerable?

The ember of an idea begins sputtering in the back of your mind, firing up the nerve endings across your scalp with a sort of electric tingle. If you play your cards right, exploit the right angles just enough to pique his interest without arousing too much suspicion...this could be your ins-

"Hey sweet cheeks! Whiskey on the rocks, just how you like it." Daisuke's raucous voice practically bellowing in your ear shatters your concentration.

You can't quite suppress the slight wince, but quickly school your features back into a mask of allure as you turn your attention to the waiting glass being shoved under your nose. "Why thank you, handsome. That's exactly the kind of drink a powerful man orders for a thirsty girl."

Daisuke's chest puffs out even more, clearly gratified at the praise. "Heh, only the best for a sexy thing like you, darlin'. Love to make a woman purr like a kitten, if you catch my drift."

The wink and lascivious grin he shoots your way makes you mentally retch, but you force your own lips to curl into a coy simper. "Well then, why don't we see if you've really got the means to back that up," you husk out, gesturing discreetly at his bulging wallet with your chin.

The drunken lech practically starts salivating like one of Pavlov's dogs, fumbling the billfold open and stuffing a wad of crumpled tens into your waiting palm. You carefully keep your features impassive as you glance down appraisingly at the measly stack - barely enough for even fifteen minutes of your lowest rate. But you can hardly contain your smirk of satisfaction as you smooth the bills out to make them appear even flimsier.

"Mmm...I suppose this'll do for now, big spender. Long as you don't mind me keeping my options open." You shoot him a pointed look over the rim of your whiskey glass before downing the whole thing in one burning swallow.

The message is clear - your time and company won't come without him investing much, much more if he wants to keep you around for anything more...personal. Sure enough, Daisuke's brows knit together in obvious dismay at your dismissive assessment of his offering.

"Hey now, don't be like that, baby! I'm just getting started over here..."

As his babbling reassurances fade into the background cacophony of the bar, you allow your gaze to drift one final time toward that solitary beacon of orange in your periphery vision. Your ploy seems to have worked - Chuuya's laser focus is piercing directly toward you, brow furrowed even deeper as he openly stares. You don't break eye contact, keeping your expression carefully neutral.

One thin russet brow arches ever so slightly, almost in a silent challenge. Like he suspects the ruse you're running but can't pinpoint exactly why it seems...off. You tilt your chin in response, letting your lips quirk in the barest hints of a smirk before turning your attention fully back to Daisuke's increasingly pathetic groveling.

Hook, line, and sinker. You've got Chuuya's undivided attention now, whether he'll admit it or not.

It's time to really reel him in.

You lean back with deliberate slowness, allowing your low neckline to gape open even more as you eye Daisuke with lidded appraisal. "Well now, aren't you just a sweet talker," you murmur, making sure to drag your pink tongue across your lower lip in an exaggerated swipe.

Daisuke audibly gulps, his gaze dropping in a way that makes you want to deck him even as you fight to keep your features smoothly impassive. "I'll take that as a compliment from a gorgeous gal like yourself," he manages, recovering with a lecherous grin and letting his beefy arm drape across the back of your chair.

You allow the faintest shiver to roll through you, more out of revulsion than any attempt at playing coy. "Why don't we move somewhere a little...quieter, so I can show you just how much I appreciate a real man's flattery?"

The growl that rumbles from the portly man's chest makes the hair on the back of your neck prickle with unease. Subtly, you resettle yourself on the barstool, allowing your knees to fall slightly open and give him a tempting glimpse of creamy inner thigh.

Sure enough, Daisuke's eyes immediately snap downward like a dog ogling a juicy bone, his tongue slipping out to wet his cracked lips. "Whatever you say, babydoll," he husks, greedily dragging his gaze back up your figure. "Why don't you lead the way?"

The barely concealed lust dripping from his tone has you suppressing a grimace, but you channel it into yet another lithe stretch that pulls your tight dress taut across your curves. Sliding off the stool with exaggerated grace, you toss one last smoldering look over your shoulder as you saunter toward the dimly lit hall concealing a warren of private rooms.

"Keep up if you can, tiger. Can't guarantee I'll wait for dawdlers."

The throaty chuckle your words elicit might as well be a wolf's growl for all the stomach-churning effect it has on you. You don't have to look back to know Daisuke is practically tripping over his own feet to follow in your wake, arousal swiftly obliterating any lingering traces of rational thought.

Keeping your swaying steps measured, you silently appraise each secluded nook you pass, searching for one tucked away yet not overly obscured. The arousal thrumming through you is strictly the intoxicating thrill of a successful con rapidly coming to fruition. Just need to seal the deal for Chuuya to find you, but not so easily that it ruins the illusion...

Bingo. You spot a half-hidden alcove at the end of the hallway, shielded just enough by a gauzy curtain to avoid immediate detection. Tossing your head to allow your wild curls to bounce, you make a big show of "stumbling" inside, mussing the drape slightly before glancing back to where Daisuke leers from the hall entrance.

"Almost left you behind, handsome. Care to join me...if you think you can handle it?"

The prospect of convincing prey practically salivating after him is far too tempting for such a simpleton to resist. As expected, Daisuke lurches forward with surprising quickness to slip behind the curtain, meaty hands already outstretched to undoubtedly grope and paw-

Only for his impatient lunge to run smack into an unexpected steel vise grip on his wrist, yanking his motion up short with enough force to make his eyes bulge in shock. A harsh chuckle rumbles from the shadows by his ear.

"Should've known you louts would be sniffing around, as always. Do yourself a favor and stick to pissing up the bar, yeah? Wouldn't want any...unpleasant accidents to happen to your plaything."

With that final snarled comment, Daisuke's wrist gets brutally wrenched in a way that makes him cry out sharply, stumbling back and cradling his now-reddened appendage against his chest. Stunned, he gapes at the vaguely humanoid silhouette now resolving from the back gloom like an apparition.

"Ch-Chuuya-san! I didn't realize...I mean, I was just-"

"Save the pathetic blubbering, worm," the distinctive, gruff baritone growls back, the shadows shifting to reveal a steely glare and familiar mussed hair gleaming like burnished copper in the low light. "Get lost before I decide to make things messier."

That brusque warning appears to be more than enough for the simpering fool. With a strangled whimper, Daisuke gives a clumsy bow and scurries away, abandoning his intended conquest with all the hurry of a dog tucking tail. An almost pitying scoff echoes after him down the hall.

It takes every ounce of your restraint to remain seated and perfectly still, giving no outward sign of the thunderous riot your pulse has become. This is it - the opening you'd been angling for has finally presented itself. Any other sane person would be frozen with terror in the face of this unparalleled threat.

But terror has always been a distant acquaintance to you when it comes to Chuuya. It's been supplanted by a far more intoxicating feeling - the lure of getting hopelessly, perilously close to the untamed flame without letting your wings get burned in the process.

So you simply regard him with studied nonchalance as his tall form stalks from the shadows into the gauzy half-light, sharp features settling into a glowering leer.

"Fancy meeting you here...Chuuya."*

A tense silence stretches as Chuuya slants you an inscrutable look, one russet brow arching ever so slightly.

"You know who I am," he states flatly after a moment, clearly not bothering with any pretense. His gaze sharpens further, flicking over your form in an assessing once-over. "Yet you don't seem the type to go running for the hills like that sniveling worm."

You allow your lips to curve into the faintest of smirks, shrugging one shoulder in a studied show of nonchalance even as your heart hammers against your ribcage. "Well now, you'd be correct about that observation," you murmur, carelessly crossing one leg over the other to allow your skirt to ride even higher up your thighs. "I don't scare quite so...easily, let's say."

The way Chuuya's narrowed eyes instantly zero in on the expanse of bare leg you've revealed makes your gut clench with something that definitely isn't fear. More like the thrill of a predator getting a glimpse of a new, elusive kind of prey to evaluate. You keep your gaze locked boldly with his, not about to be cowed.

"That so?" Chuuya rumbles after a weighted pause, straightening from his slouch as he takes an prowling step closer. There's a distinctly dangerous edge to the banked smolder now flickering behind those scarlet irises. "Seems like an awfully stupid broad has wandered a little too far from whatever dank hole she crawled out of."

The sheer arrogance bleeding from his words, delivered in that low, grating growl, should rightfully have your hackles raising. A massive voice in the back of your mind screams at you to defuse this situation, disengage before it spirals into territory you may not be able to endure.

Instead, you find yourself leaning forward with avid interest, allowing the whisper of your neckline to gape open even further as you flash Chuuya a coy look from beneath your lashes. "What can I say? Maybe I've just acquired a...taste, for tempting a little risk every now and then."

The way his pupils flare infinitesimally at your blatant implication is almost worth the sizzling lick of tension now heating the cramped space between you. Feeling unnervingly brazen, you let your tongue swipe across your lower lip before continuing in your most sultry drawl.

"Doesn't hurt that danger often comes with certain...thrills attached, wouldn't you agree?"

There's something almost predatory about the rake of Chuuya's hooded eyes up the length of you now, his full lips quirking faintly at the corners. "Well now, that's certainly an...interesting revelation comin' from a scrap like you."

One booted foot edges incrementally closer into your space until the tips of his polished toes breach the whisper-close perimeter you're holding. Something about the nonchalant invasion of your boundaries makes the fine hairs on your arms prickle with an odd, static sort of electricity.

"So tell me, sweetheart..." Chuuya leans in even further now, his features almost blurring with proximity until that smoldering stare bores into yours with blistering intensity. You can smell the smoke and whiskey's potent musk radiating from his pores, taste the faint metallic tang of violence that seems to linger like an aura around him.

You don't - can't - look away, finding yourself utterly suspended in his molten regard.

"Just what kind of...thrills were you hoping a monster like me could provide?"

The low, guttural purr of his final words sinks directly into the pit of your stomach like a dousing of chill water. Except rather than dousing anything, they seem to ignite every tingling nerve ending across your skin into roaring life. Every well-honed instinct is silently screaming at you to take your gun out and shoot.

But your heart thunders in your ears for an entirely different reason, one you can no longer deafen yourself to even as sirens blare in the back of your mind. Because right here, right now, the monster in question has coaxed an infinitely more primal beast from its usually well-restrained cage inside you.

And now, face to face with the only man who's ever brought those feral urges to the surface, you can no longer remember how to resist its howling call.

So instead of heeding your flashing warnings, you allow every last gossamer thread of control to unravel from your grasp. you let the curtain drop completely - metaphorically and literally, as you purposefully lean back to reveal the shadowed haven of your chest undulating with quickening breaths.

Exposed and hungry, you hold Chuuya's smoldering crimson stare as the first provocative rumble parts your lips:

"I was rather hoping you'd show me..."

Chuuya holds your brazen gaze for a beat, russet eyes glittering with an unreadable intensity. You can practically see the gears turning behind that furrowed brow as he processes your bold proposition, evaluating how serious you are about tempting such dangerous territories.

At last, his lips peel back in a slow, wolfish smirk - the kind that makes your pulse spike despite yourself. "You've got a set of nerves on you, I'll give you that much," he rumbles, leaning back just enough to allow his eyes to roam overtly over your displayed figure with relish. "Most dolls wrap themselves up tighter than a hair-trigger gunslinger around me. But you..."

His gaze flicks back up to lock with yours, blazing with undisguised intrigue. "You're just beggin' to get burned, aren't you, gorgeous?"

There's an undeniable thrill licking up your spine at the blatant challenge arcing between you, the kind of illicit adrenaline rush you've been chasing perhaps a bit too recklessly lately. Mustering your courage, you hold Chuuya's smoldering stare and part your lips in a slow, deliberate sweep of your tongue.

"Well now, they do say there's a certain...excitement, in playing with fire, don't they?" You make sure to pitch your tone into a sultry purr, allowing your lashes to dip in a slow blink. "And who are we to question that particular wisdom?"

The low, gravelly chuckle that rumbles from Chuuya's broad chest causes a frisson of sensation to trickle down your body. Slowly, he pushes off from the wall, allowing his fitted white shirt to strain against his defined torso as he prowls the sparse distance separating you. Your breath hitches despite yourself when he looms into your personal space, near enough that you can detect the smoky, smoky whiskey scent of him.

"Is that what you're angling for, then?" he murmurs, head dipping until you can feel the whisper of his warm exhalation skating across your cheekbone. "A chance to dance among the flames and see if you get yourself burned?"

You resist the urge to shiver, forcing yourself to meet his heated stare steadily even as your pulse throbs with mounting anticipation. "Well now, I do love indulging in life's...rarer sensations whenever I can."

One daring hand lifts until your fingers are just grazing the open vee of his dress shirt, allowing your splayed digits to tantalize the hard planes of his chest through the crisp fabric. Boldly, your hooded gaze flicks up through your lashes, a shiver of adrenaline sparking beneath your skin as Chuuya's own eyes darken infinitesimally.

"Tell me..." you breathe out, letting your words skate like a caress against his stubbled jaw. "Just how much thrill...does a rare indulgence like you have to offer?"

For a long, heated moment, Chuuya simply holds your daring stare, the muscles in his forearms tensing as his fingers flex almost unconsciously. You can sense the thunderous caution warring with that undeniable spark of interest in his hooded gaze as he sizes you up fully, evaluating whether you're truly the kind of hazard worth risking his...attention.

At last, a slow, wicked smirk curls over his lips, and a shudder of electric premonition dances down your spine.

"Well now...what do you say we go somewhere a little more...private, and find out?"

Your pulse thrums with a heady mix of trepidation and illicit excitement as Chuuya holds your daring stare, clearly weighing his options. Despite every rational instinct screaming at you to defuse this situation, you find yourself utterly transfixed - a moth helplessly drawn to the hypnotic flames.

At last, Chuuya leans back with a slow smirk, giving you an assessing look-over that makes your skin prickle. "Tell you what, gorgeous - how about we take this little game somewhere a bit cozier?" His gaze briefly flicks toward the hallway beyond your alcove's tattered curtain. "Got a private office upstairs that'll give us all the...privacy, we might require."

The unmistakable emphasis he puts on that last part sends a shiver of smoky anticipation licking down your spine. You know you're treading into incredibly dangerous territory here - this is the Port Mafia's most volatile element you're brazenly tempting, after all. One misstep, one misread signal, and there's no telling how quickly this situation could careen into utter chaos.

And yet...you can't resist the thrill of poking at that particular rattlesnake, drunk on the dizzying high of skirting peril. Holding Chuuya's piercing stare steadily, you allow one side of your mouth to curve into a slow, provocative smile.

"Lead the way, then...I'm partial to a little...risk, with my indulgences."

Chuuya's eyes flare infinitesimally at your words, that smoldering gaze roving over you with rekindled interest. For a beat, the two of you are suspended in a sort of heated detente, the air between you thrumming with roiling tension and unspoken challenges. Despite yourself, you feel a whisper of excitement curl low in your belly as those molten azure irises slowly blaze a path down your form.

Then, abruptly, Chuuya spins on his heel and strides toward the exit without another word. You blink, momentarily wrong-footed by his abrupt dismissal, until he tosses a final look over his shoulder - the expression on his face makes your breath hitch.

"Well? You comin' to collect your indulgences or not, gorgeous?"

There's an unmistakable glint in Chuuya's stare then - a sort of heated promise that has your adrenaline spiking despite yourself. Like he's testing you, issuing a blatant dare to see if you'll recklessly rise to meet the perilous temptation head-on.

A greater part of you knows you should immediately abort this reckless gambit, disengage before you cross a line there's no coming back from. But that primal part that's already been stirred into electric wakefulness refuses to back down from such a flagrant challenge.

So with one last inward steadying breath, you smooth your features into an insouciant smirk and saunter after Chuuya's retreating form. Every step behind him down the dimly lit hallways feels like you're striding deeper into a dragon's den, utterly insignificant compared to the scorching, chaotic power you're brazenly trailing.

But rather than cowing you, the prospect of getting inexorably closer to such a dangerous presence sets your blood simmering with heady, illicit adrenaline. You can't tear your eyes away from the confident set of Chuuya's shoulders, the controlled, subtly powerful roll of his hips with each long stride. It's like watching a panther stalk through the underbrush - power and grace roiling in sync, utterly spellbinding.

By the time the two of you reach the non-descript doorway tucked away on one of the upper floors, your pulse is thundering with a strange sort of breathless anticipation. As Chuuya swings the door open and gestures you forward with one beckoning hand, something sparks hot and illicit in your veins.

You don't hesitate before crossing the threshold into the dimly lit office space, chin raised in smoldering challenge. The distinct sound of the door clicking shut behind you seems to ring with finality, sealing you in this intimate battleground with your most dangerous opponent yet.

One deep, steadying breath later, and you slowly turn to face the sole occupant now in the room with you. Chuuya prowls closer, looking utterly at ease amidst the overlapping shadows cast by the single flickering lamp. He cocks one russet brow slightly, the ghost of his ever-present smirk still playing about the corners of his lips.

"Well then...care to indulge me on just what kind of rare...thrills, you think you can handle?" The low, gravelly purr of his drawl seems to reverberate against the very walls with its heady promise.

In this moment, all bravado flees as you find yourself pinned by the weight of Chuuya's piercing stare. There's something incandescently feral roiling just beneath that cool surface, power and intensity thrumming from every taut line of his lithe form. You feel suddenly, viscerally aware of the yawning chasm of danger you've actually stumbled into by provoking such an untamed juggernaut.

Yet despite the rapidly shrinking space between you, despite the alarms clanging in the back of your mind...you can't seem to make yourself turn and flee while you're still able. No, some deeper, more primal instinct is beading bright pinpricks of perspiration across your nape, thrumming with a low, electric sort of excitement as Chuuya stalks ever nearer.

So rather than retreat, you feel the first reckless threads of control beginning to fray as your body's most basic urges override any sense of self-preservation. Your lips part in a tiny shuddering inhale as those feral crimson eyes finally bore into yours at point-blank range, the heat of Chuuya's compact frame now radiating palpably against yours.

In that delirious instant, everything narrows until there's only the two of you, coiled taut as a wire split-second before detonation. You can't tear your gaze from Chuuya's even if you wanted to - find yourself suspended, mesmerised as he subtly scents the air around you both with a slow inhale of his own.

Then, at last, he leans in until his lips are a scant breath from yours. You freeze, dizzy at the sudden proximity, skin tingling...and wait with inexplicable tension for the final ax to fall.

The words that finally part his lips are little more than a smoky rasp, thrumming with a vibration that sinks sparks into your very marrow:

"Then let's find out, shall we?"

You feel like every nerve ending in your body has been set alight as Chuuya's words seem to reverberate against your very bones. The low, smoky rasp of his voice carries a thrumming vibration that sinks sparking tendrils of electricity into your very marrow.

In that suspended instant, everything narrows into hyper-focused clarity - the smoldering weight of his piercing crimson stare boring into yours, the slight hitch of his chest with each measured inhale, the faint whiskey-and-smoke scent of him swirling in the charged space between your bodies. You're acutely, dizzyingly aware of Chuuya's compact frame radiating an intense, banked heat so palpably against you that your own breathing grows shallow.

Despite the alarms still blaring at the back of your mind, something infinitely more primal has awoken and taken the reins - that reckless, thrill-seeking part of you that cannot seem to resist chasing the untamed wildfire no matter how badly it threatens to burn. You can't tear your widened eyes away from Chuuya's own hooded gaze, utterly transfixed by the promise of power and intensity thrumming in every taut line of his form.

And when he finally moves, prowling that last infinitesimal distance to bring your bodies into searing alignment, you can't even find it in you to flinch.

There's the faintest tangling of your mingled breaths as Chuuya noses infinitesimally closer, and your chest stutters on a shuddering inhale in response. Yet you remain frozen in place, utterly suspended in the gravitational pull of his aura as his lips ghost across the heated whisper of skin just beneath your jaw.

"So tell me then..." The gravelly rumble of his low purr ghosts across your pulse point, igniting a shivering trail of sensation down your neck and across your collarbones. "Just how much hazard were you angling to chase tonight, gorgeous?"

The blatant challenge dripping from Chuuya's words finally spurs you back into motion after your momentary paralysis. Steeling your nerves against the molten intent searing from his heavy-lidded stare, you force your lips to curve into a slow, smoldering smirk of your own.

"Why don't you go ahead and show me...unless you're not confident you can rise to the occasion?" you breathe out, allowing your voice to dip into a low, throaty purr of provocation.

The infinite pause that stretches between you next is charged like a livewire, tension and unspoken baits crackling in the superheated air. For an endless moment, the two of you remain suspended in a crystalized tableaux - Chuuya pinning you in place with smoldering promise, you staring him down with charged challenge.

Then, like the abrupt snap of a rubber band, the fragile tension finally breaks.

A harsh exhale gusts from Chuuya's parted lips as a muscle ticks in his tensed jaw, the banked intensity in his stare flaring into a bonfire of blatant hunger. You can't quite muffle the tremor that wracks through you in response, heat licking beneath your skin like the first sparks of a brushfire about to ignite.

"Well then..." he rumbles in that distinctive rasp that seems to lick across your nerve endings in a searing caress. "I do so hate to disappoint a lady with...particular tastes, now don't I?"

The final taunting lilt of his words hangs for a torturous beat in the electrified space between your bodies. Then, before you can so much as draw another shuddering inhale, his hands are on you - rough, calloused fingers skating up the bare expanse of your waist to sear possessive brands into your overheated skin.

The molten contact finally shatters the spell of restraint you've been struggling to maintain against the steadily encroaching tide of Chuuya's presence. A sharp, wordless exhalation punches from your lungs as you instinctively arch into his scorching palms like a tree being bent to gale-force winds. Every nerve is alight, thrumming feverishly with heady, illicit anticipation that seems to vibrate in your very bones.

Chuuya's low, guttural rumble of approval vibrates against your heated pulse point in a distinctly possessive sort of resonance. "That's what I thought..."

Those large, blisteringly warm hands flex against your sides, fingers tightening in an inescapable grip that has you trembling minutely. There's a distinct sense of him looming, encompassing your entire field of awareness. The terribly intimate cocoon of his powerful aura and crisp, smoky scent has raptured senses occluding everything else in a dizzying spiral of sensation.

You're only dimly cognizant of the slide of hot breath skating up the column of your vulnerable throat before Chuuya's graveled rasp ghosts across your lips with finality:

"Now let's see how much of my...particular skills, you can take."

A tremulous shiver wracks through you at the blatant intent scorching from Chuuya's words. For all your attempts at bravado, at provoking this untamed hurricane, there's no denying the molten thrill now simmering low in your belly.

You're well and truly in the eye of the storm's chaos now. There's no retreating, no shred of distance to put between you and this barely-leashed juggernaut towering over you. The heat radiating from Chuuya's compact frame, the banked intensity blazing behind those smoldering russet irises, the thrumming aura of controlled violence roiling just beneath his deceptively calm surface...it all combines into a heady, electrifying force that's utterly overwhelming your senses.

You can't tear your widened gaze away from the searing intensity of his stare, can't halt the trembling that wracks through your very bones as Chuuya regards you with that slow, lupine smirk curling the corners of his lips. It's as if he can sense the first tendrils of apprehension starting to unfurl in your gut, can scent the first hints of your rapidly dwindling bravado like a predator sensing weakness in its prey.

That molten gaze narrows infinitesimally, holding you utterly transfixed as those wicked lips part to exhale a low rumble that seems to reverberate against the very walls around you:

"Well, well...aren't you just a messy tangle of nerves now, gorgeous? Should've known better than to go poking a sleepin' beast."

Your throat works in a convulsive swallow, suddenly achingly aware of the rapid flutter of your pulse thrumming visibly beneath the hollow of your exposed throat. Whether from exhilaration or mounting trepidation you can no longer tell - everything's starting to spiral and blur together into an indistinguishable haze in the wake of that banked wildfire radiating from Chuuya in rolling waves.

You manage the barest shake of your head, gaze skittering away in a rare moment of cowed discomposure as the instinct to physically retreat briefly rears its head. But Chuuya's callused grasp on your waist tightens infinitesimally, effectively pinning you in place like a cobra subduing its prey.

"Now where d'you think you're going, babydoll?" The low, honeyed rasp of his drawl slithers down your neck like velvet laced with venom. "Don't go getting cold feet after working so hard to earn yourself a dance with the big bad wolf..."

Swallowing hard against his iron grip, you force yourself to match his smoldering stare with a defiant tilt of your chin. "I’m not," you rasp, hating how breathless you sound pinned beneath this man's thrall. "Unless you're the one getting cold feet...?"

Chuuya's eyes suddenly turn flinty, his smirk twisting into something sharper and colder. "Funny you should mention that," he says, his tone deceptively light despite the new tension thrumming through his frame. "Tell me...what's a pretty little Agency thing like you doing here trying so hard to play the vamp? Shouldn't you be out there fightin' the good fight, making the city a safer place and all that righteous bullshit?"

You freeze, eyes widening as the blood drains from your face. He knows. Somehow, Chuuya has seen through your undercover operation. Your hand twitches instinctively towards the concealed pistol against your thigh.

Chuuya's grip on your waist tightens infinitesimally as he leans in closer, his eyes blazing with a combination of hunger and...sadness? "Yeah, that's right. I know who you are and why you're really here. To take me out, just another job for the Agency's dog."

His words slice through you like a knife as your heart pounds in your ears. This was never supposed to happen. He was never meant to discover your true motives.

Chuuya's gaze bores into you, stripping away every layer until you feel utterly exposed before him. "Did you really think I wouldn't recognize you? Even playing the seductress...I'd know you anywhere."

There's a rawness to his voice now, a vulnerability that takes you aback. His fingers loosen slightly against your throat, almost a caress. "I've watched you for years, you know. From a distance, always keeping my distance because I knew we could never be anything more than enemies."

Your breath catches in your throat as realization dawns. The longing you'd glimpsed in his eyes...it wasn't just your imagination. "Chuuya..." you whisper, torn between the instinct to attack and something far more dangerous blooming in your chest.

He laughs bitterly, the sound grating. "I'm just a fool, aren't I? Falling for the one person I can never have." He reaches up to slowly pull the wig you wore for your disguise, revealing your natural tresses. His thumb strokes your wildly fluttering pulse almost tenderly. "So go ahead, do what you came here to do. At least I got to be this close to you one last time."

The pistol feels like a lead weight against your thigh as you gaze up at this deadly man, your sworn enemy, and see the depths of his longing and resignation laid bare.

Your breath catches in your throat as you gaze up at Chuuya, the man you've sworn to take down as an enemy of the Agency, and see the naked longing and resignation in his eyes. In that moment, you realize with dawning clarity that you can no more kill him than cut out your own heart.

The pistol concealed against your thigh suddenly feels like an utterly foreign, leaden weight. How could you ever bring yourself to pull that trigger against this deadly yet achingly vulnerable man before you? The one who has haunted your footsteps and thoughts for years, it seems, with the same tortured yearning you've struggled to ignore?

Chuuya's thumb strokes your thundering pulse once more, his touch tentative yet scorchingly intimate. "Well?" he prompts roughly, jaw tensing. "Aren't you going to finish what you came here for, gorgeous?"

You open your mouth, but find no words will come. What could you possibly say in this suspended moment where everything you thought you knew has been shattered? Your entire world has abruptly tilted on its axis, sending your convictions and allegiances spinning into freefall.

Seeming to take your silence as answer enough, Chuuya's expression shutters closed once more. He lets out a harsh exhalation, fingers tightening almost bruisingly against your hip. "Fine then. Have it your way."

With that gruff declaration, he suddenly seizes you by the shoulders and spins you both around, slamming your back against the wall with enough force to expel your breath in a pained rush. You instinctively try to pull free, to summon your training and detach from this volatile situation before it spirals further.

But Chuuya is relentless, pinning your wrists above your head in one unyielding grip while crowding you with the searing heat of his compact frame. The hard planes of his body cage you in utterly, his thigh jamming between your legs in a blatant parody of intimacy before he snaps your holster off along with your gun.

"If you're not going to finish the job, then at least grant me this one indulgence before you walk away," he snarls against the hammering pulse at your throat. His free hand slides possessively up your ribs until it's fisted in the hair at your nape, wrenching your head back to fully expose your vulnerability to his piercing stare. "One taste of you before I burn it all to the ground."

The world seems to splinter and fracture around you as Chuuya's heated words penetrate the haze of shock and confusion swirling through your mind. This is madness, utter insanity descending between your tangled forms. He's the enemy - untamed, volatile, a force of destruction that could annihilate you without a second thought.

Yet despite every rational warning blaring at full volume, you can't seem to make yourself struggle against the scorching brand of his body anymore. Can't deny the reckless part of you that has been awakened and roused into insatiable hunger by Chuuya's smoldering stare and this searing, unexpected revelation.

So instead of heeding your ingrained instincts, you simply hold his burning gaze steadily and allow the first lethal admission to tumble recklessly from your lips:

"Then take what you need from me..."

Chuuya freezes at your breathless entreaty, the blazing intensity in his gaze seeming to flicker and gutter for just an instant. As if some part of him hadn't truly expected you to capitulate to this reckless descent into madness between you both.

For a suspended heartbeat, the office seems to hold its collective breath, awaiting the final plunge over the edge of this precipice you now teeter upon. You can feel Chuuya's ragged exhalations ghosting across your parted lips, can all but taste the roiling torment and need crashing together in the infinitesimal space separating your bodies.

Then, like a rubber band reaching terminal tension before snapping, every last strand of restraint finally frays into oblivion.

A harsh growl rumbles from the depths of Chuuya's chest as he surges forward, claiming your lips in a searing, bruising clash. The tight grip in your hair wrenches your head back at a nearly painful angle as he plunders the intimate depths of your mouth with almost feral intensity. You can only cling to the hard planes of his shoulders and surrender to the riptide of sensations crashing over you.

There's no gentleness, no teasing exploration in Chuuya's onslaught - only the desperate, blazing need to consume, to leave his brand seared into every inch of your being. Each nip of his teeth against your lips, each rasp of his calloused palms mapping the curves of your body, it all conveys the same frenzied message:

Take what you can from me before this all gets torn asunder.

You're only dimly aware of the harsh grind of the wall at your back, of Chuuya pinning you there with the inexorable force of his lean musculature as you both drink desperately from this catastrophic spiral. All that exists is the scalding trail of his lips, the shuddering gasps being torn from your lungs, and the roaring heartbeat thrumming between your tangled bodies.

At some point, Chuuya wrenches his mouth free to blaze a path of smoldering, opened-mouth kisses down the vulnerable column of your throat. The rasp of his stubble scraping your over-sensitized skin drags a trembling moan from you that seems to reverberate in the very air. He lets out his own guttural groan against the wild flutter of your pulse in response, clutching you impossibly closer and grinding his hips against yours in a blatant rhythm.

"Been drivin' me crazy for years, you know that?" he rasps into the sweat-dampened hollow of your neck, each word seeming to sear itself into your very bones. "Watchin' you from the sidelines, playing the good guy while I kept my distance like a good little monster..."

His teeth graze the juncture of your shoulder hard enough to sting, but the burn only streaks molten licks of sensation straight to your pussy. "Never thought I'd get the chance to finally have you...even if it's just this once."

The desolate undercurrent woven through Chuuya's heated words penetrates the lust-hazed spiral of your mind, sending a jagged fissure straight through the reckless abandon coursing through you. This frantic, devastatingly intimate blaze between you isn't just about giving in to primal desires and sating forbidden cravings.

For Chuuya, it's a last-ditch grasping at ephemeral smoke before the world as he's known it inevitably turns to ash and ruin. A final indulgence to sate his starving beast before resigning himself to the solitary, untamable path he was seemingly born to walk.

Something hot and agonizing clenches in your chest at the bitter realization, an unfamiliar and terribly disarming ache blooming beneath your ribcage. You want - need - to soothe that weary resignation bleeding from Chuuya in scorching waves, even if it's only for one delirious, catastrophic moment outside the roles and enmity, before the entire world crashes down around you.

So you force your hands to release their white-knuckled grip on the rigid plates of his shoulders, sliding them up to frame his harsh, stubbled jawline instead. Chuuya makes a muffled sound of surprise against your pulse point, but doesn't pull away as you gently guide him to meet your softening gaze.

For a long, suspended heartbeat, you simply drink in the sight of him. Take in the smoky azure blazing with naked hunger and that terribly tender longing. The sharp angles of his brow and razor-edged cheekbones, the sinfully decadent curve of his kiss-swollen lips. The disheveled crimson spill of his hair across his forehead, the sheen of perspiration on his pale skin.

Then, with an aching, shuddering exhalation, you lean in and claim his mouth in the first gentle, devastating kiss of the night.

It's a slow, lingering thing - a delicate, searching brush of lips, a delicate exploration of the warm, wet heat of his mouth. A sensual dance that quickly builds into a scorching, searing thing. This time, you're the one to nip at his lush lower lip, to trace the sensitive seam with the tip of your tongue and draw a shivering moan from the depths of his throat. The hand fisted in your hair slackens, his grip becoming a caress instead. His other hand skates reverently over the curve of your waist, the slope of your hip, as if he's trying to commit every inch of your body to memory.

As you sink deeper into the addictive heat of Chuuya's mouth, as he swallows the needy sound that spills from you and tangles his tongue with yours in a slow, sensuous slide, the entire universe seems to contract down to the point where your bodies are pressed together.

Where the air is thick and heavy, the scent of leather and his cologne a potent mix that sends your head spinning and leaves you gasping.

When you finally part for air, when your trembling fingertips find the buttons of his vest and start working them free, his gaze sears into you like a brand. "Let me have you," he rasps raggedly, the sheer desperation in his voice making you shudder. "Please, let me..."

"Yes," you manage to whisper, the single word nearly lost in the maelstrom of sensation and need spiraling between you.

He curses roughly against the curve of your shoulder, his fingers flexing against the small of your back. "I don't want to hurt you. I never... not you."

"You won't." You're surprised at the steadiness of your own voice as you lean into the heated cradle of his body. "I trust you, Chuuya."

Chuuya goes utterly still against you, his word nearly lost in the maelstrom of sensation and need spiraling between you. There's a raw vulnerability in his gaze when he lifts his head to search your face, as if he's afraid he imagined the words falling from your lips. As if he can't quite believe this is happening.

"I trust you," you whisper again, pressing a kiss to his jaw, his throat, his temple. You don't care if the gesture is too soft, too intimate. Not when the ache in your chest only seems to deepen with each ragged inhalation you take.

"Please, Chuuya...I want this. I want you."

It's the truth, and you realize in that moment that you'd do anything, give him anything, if it meant chasing that bittersweet resignation from his expression. If it meant holding him close and keeping him safe, even for a single instant.

Chuuya shudders against you at your fervent confession, a low growl rising from his chest.

His fingers tangle in your hair, his eyes blazing with something that sends a jolt of heat straight to your core. "Then I'm yours."

He claims your lips once more, the kiss searing and all-consuming, even as he reaches down to hook his hands beneath your thighs and hoist you effortlessly into his arms. With the ease of a man who spends every waking hour honing his physical prowess, he carries you across the room and settles you atop the wide expanse of his desk.

You gasp at the feeling of the polished wood beneath your bare skin, at the cool caress of the air as he steps back to swiftly shrug off his vest and unbutton his dress shirt. Even in the dim lighting, you can't help but drink in the sight of his pale skin, the sculpted ridges of his torso and abs, the tantalizing hint of the V-lines disappearing beneath the waistband of his slacks.

When you finally tear your gaze away from his exposed body to meet his eyes, Chuuya's lips curve into a smirk. "Enjoying the view, babydoll?"

Heat creeps up your neck, but you don't look away as you reach up to begin working the zipper on the back of your dress. "Maybe. It'd be easier to enjoy it more if you took the rest off too, though."

Chuuya's smirk widens into a grin, the wicked curl of his lips sending a new spike of heat lancing through you. "Whatever the lady wants," he purrs, popping the button on his slacks and letting the fabric slide down his hips.

Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him clad only in a pair of black boxer briefs, the outline of his erection evident through the stretchy fabric. His heated stare is pinned on you like a physical weight, tracing the curves of your bared flesh as you tug the dress down and over your head.

A low, ragged sound spills from Chuuya's chest as he drinks in the sight of you perched before him in nothing but your lace bra and panties. You don't have a chance to feel the slightest bit of self-consciousness, however, because he's crowding against you almost instantly, his hands spanning the dip of your waist and his lips trailing a line of burning kisses along the curve of your neck, moving downward.

You feel Chuuya's soft lips press gently against your stomach, his kisses fluttering over the scars that mark your skin. The scars he put there himself, when he shot you what feels like a lifetime ago. His touch is tender now as his mouth grazes the raised lines, his breath warm on your bare flesh.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, voice thick with emotion. "I never wanted to hurt you." He looks up at you with repentant eyes, fingers tracing the edges of the scars with the lightest touch, as if afraid to cause you more pain. You know he regrets what he did, that guilt weighs heavily on him. Cupping his face, you guide his mouth back to yours, wanting to absolve him, needing him to know that you forgive him.

The kiss is slow and deep, and vou can feel every ounce of his regret, his pain. His hands move to your bra, unclasping it and pulling the straps down, baring your breasts.

You watch as his gaze darkens, the hunger returning, and you know his thoughts have drifted back to the present. To the need burning in both of you.

His lips travel downward, capturing one hardened nipple in his mouth and sucking hard. Your fingers tangle in his hair, a moan falling from your lips. The scrape of his stubble against the sensitive skin only intensifies the sensation.

Chuuya's hand kneads and teases the other breast, his thumb flicking and teasing the taut peak. The wet heat of his mouth on your sensitive flesh, the friction of his stubble on your skin, it all sends waves of pleasure rolling through you, coiling in the pit of your stomach.

When his mouth moves to the other breast, his hand continues the sensual torment.

"Chuuya," you whimper, needing more, but knowing there's no rushing him. He's going to take his time, drive you to the brink. "Mmm," he hums, his lips moving over the curve of your breast and down the planes of your stomach. "Patience, babydoll. I've been fantasizing about what l'd do to you if I ever got you in my bed. And since that's not happening, this will have to do."

His mouth is warm on your inner thigh, his tongue and teeth nibbling the tender flesh there.

"So soft, so sweet," he murmurs, and then his mouth is on your core, the damp heat of his tongue dragging along your slit. "Oh god," you groan, hips lifting involuntarily off the desk. Chuuya's hands grasp your thighs, his strength keeping you from wriggling away from his wicked, talented mouth.

He chuckles darkly, and the vibration sends another pulse of pleasure through you. "No escaping, gorgeous. Not until l'm finished."

Finished? How will you survive that?

Your breath comes out in short pants as he continues his sensual assault, the strokes of his tongue and his fingers relentless. Just when you think you can't take anymore, the pressure and pleasure building to the point of overwhelming, his mouth finds the swollen bud of your clit.

You cry out, his name a breathless, reverent prayer falling from your lips.

"That's it," he croons, his words vibrating through you, making you arch into him. "Give it to me."

His tongue laves over you, his fingers stroking and teasing, until the wave crests, pleasure flooding through you, sending you careening over the edge. You could hear the loud, pornographic moan Chuuya let out as your juices spray against his mouth, the vibrations from his growls sending shivers down your spine.

"God, yes, baby. That's it," he praises, licking his lips and staring at you like a starved man presented with a feast. His lips curl into a wicked grin, and you feel your blood heat at the sight.

"But I'm not finished with you yet. I want to feel you come on my cock, feel that tight, hot pussy squeeze me."

The filthy words coming from Chuuya's beautiful mouth should disgust you, but they don't. They turn you on, make your body heat and clench, ready for more. Your breath hitches in anticipation, but Chuuya's not done teasing.

"Tell me," he purrs, "have you thought about me? Have you touched yourself, imagining my hands on you, my mouth on you?"

You don't answer, but your blush gives you away, and he lets out a low, husky chuckle.

"Oh, yes, I can see it in your eyes. I've thought about you, too. Touched myself, imagining your sweet, soft lips wrapped around my cock. I'd love to feel those pouty lips stretched around me. Would you like that, gorgeous? To swallow me whole, drink down every last drop?"

Your mouth waters, and the image fills your mind, making your sex clench and your mouth go dry. He chuckles again, a dark, seductive sound.

"Well, since we have no time for that now, l'll settle for being buried inside your sweet pussy. How's that?" Your eyes go wide as you look at him. He's massive, and the idea of him filling you, stretching you, makes you tremble with need.

"'m gonna take that as a yes," he drawls, the rough, gravelly tone of his voice making you shudder. He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his boxer briefs, and pushes them down his lean hips, freeing his thick, heavy cock. You can't help but stare. He's long and thick, his cock pulsing and twitching, pre-cum beading on the tip. He grips his shaft, stroking lazily, his eyes locked on yours. "Like what you see, babydoll?"

You lick your lips, and he groans, a tortured sound. "God, I want to feel that sinful mouth wrapped around my cock, but right now, I want to feel that sweet cunt."

He prowls towards you, and your legs spread instinctively, making room for him. You can feel your sex pulsing, the need for him to fill you, claim you, almost overwhelming.

He steps between your spread thighs, and leans in, claiming your mouth in a bruising kiss, the taste of yourself on his lips driving you wild.

He breaks the kiss, and his mouth trails down your neck, over your shoulder, the rough scrape of his stubble and his soft, full lips making you writhe. His hand slides between your legs, and you feel his finger tease your entrance, testing how ready you are.

"Shit," he curses. "You're soaked. Dripping for me."

You're about to protest his teasing, but the words die on your lips as you feel his blunt head probing at your opening. Your eyes go wide, and he grins, a wolfish, predatory look.

"Ready for me, gorgeous?"

He doesn't wait for a response, thrusting his hips, sheathing himself in your slick heat in one long, smooth motion. He's so big, and the stretch burns, but the sensation of him filling you is delicious, the pleasure just on the edge of pain.

"Fuck," he groans, and he leans forward, burying his face in the crook of your neck. He stays there, buried deep, breathing harshly, for a moment, and then he pulls back, and thrusts into you again, setting a steady pace.

His hands grip your hips, his fingers digging into your soft flesh, and you know he'll leave marks, but you don't care. You want them.

"Look at me," he growls, and you comply, gazing up at him.

The fierce intensity of his gaze as he thrusts into you sends a shiver of pleasure up your spine.

"Touch yourself," he commands. "I want to feel you coming around my cock."

You slide a hand between your bodies, finding the slick nub of your clit, and begin stroking in time with his thrusts.

The sensation is overwhelming, and you can feel yourself spiraling towards climax.

"Chuuya," you moan, and he groans, the sound rumbling through you.

"Yeah, that's it, baby. Let go. Come for me." His words push you over the edge, and you scream his name, pleasure washing over vou in a crashing wave.

He continues to thrust, drawing out your orgasm, and then he stiffens, his hips slamming against yours, burying himself to the hilt, and you can feel his cock throb and pulse, his hot release filling you.

"God, I love you."

His words shock you, and your eyes go wide.

He blinks, and you can see the regret flash in his gaze, and he starts to pull back, to withdraw. You wrap your legs around him, pulling him close, refusing to let him go.

He's frozen, his expression unreadable, and then, he slumps, pressing his forehead to yours.

"I'm sorry," he says quietly.

"Don't be," you murmur.

"You've held a place in my heart for longer than I probably realized.I wish I could say exactly when my feelings for you started, but the truth is they've been slowly blooming for ages without me fully recognizing it until now."

You don't say anything, because you can't.

There's a lump in your throat, and you can't speak past it. Instead, you hold him close, and you let him know, without words, that you care for him, too.

You don't know how long you stay like that, holding each other, but eventually, he pulls back, and you let him go. He pulls out of you, and the sensation of his seed dripping down your thighs is oddly erotic.

You watch as he pulls his boxer briefs up, and the sight of his lean, muscled form makes your pussy clench.

"Come here," he says, reaching for you, and you let him lift you into his arms. He carries you to the sofa and sits you down, the cushions soft beneath you. He takes a seat beside you, and pulls you against his chest, and you lay your head on his shoulder, his lips lingering against the crown of your head.

Burying your face in the crook of his neck, you breathe him in - smoke and spice and something uniquely Chuuya. Let it ground you in this moment, in the undeniable connection sparking between your bodies like a livewire.

There’s so much you want to say to him, but it's everything you can never say out loud. But here in the hushed stillness of Chuuya's secret haven, wrapped up in his solid warmth...you can almost pretend that it's enough. That this is enough.

Just for now. Just for tonight.

Chuuya's arms come up to enfold you, drawing you impossibly closer. One big hand splays across the small of your back while the other cradles the nape of your neck, gentle and protective, pulling you onto his lap. Like you are something unspeakably precious he wants to keep safe.

"Stay with me," he murmurs into your hair, low and entreating. "Just...stay."

You squeeze your eyes shut against the hot sting of tears, pain and guilt and wistful longing swelling up to choke you. But you ruthlessly tamp it down, lodging the messy tangle of emotions behind your ribs to examine later. When you're alone and it's safe to fall apart.

For now, you simply burrow deeper into Chuuya's embrace and nod once, decisive.

"Okay," you breath. A benediction and a promise. "Okay."

And as the two of you lay there, together in the cocoon of shadows and fairylights to a melody only you can hear...you let yourself surrender to the illusion. Let yourself imagine, just for a stolen heartbeat...

That this is real. That he is yours and you are his and nothing else matters.

That maybe, despite all the odds stacked against you...love can still bloom in even the most barren soil.

The spell endures long into the night, your quiet murmurs and shared laughter filling the air as you explore every intimate nook and cranny of Chuuya's office. Curled together on the battered leather sofa with fingers interlaced and pulses syncing, you talk until your throats are raw and your eyes gritty.

He regales you with stories of his misspent youth - of scuffles with local gangs and leaps across rooftops...all while you listen with rapt attention, drinking in every new glimpse behind the unflappable persona. In turn, you share carefully edited tales of your own childhood - the better, brighter parts that don't give too much away.

With every grin and eyeroll and gentle ribbing, the last of your walls come down brick by brick. Until all that remains is the undeniable truth of this soul-deep resonance binding you together across enemy lines. This inexplicable sense of coming home in the last place you ever expected to find it.

But of course...all illusions must eventually shatter. And this one meets a brutal end with the first gray fingers of dawn creeping across the horizon.

A shaft of watery light spears through the high windows, falling across your huddled forms in mocking admonition. Illuminating just how entangled you've become, limbs hopelessly enmeshed and faces mere inches apart on the shared pillow.

Chuuya is the first to stir, a furrow appearing between ginger brows as he blinks muzzily. Those piercing blue eyes slowly sharpen and widen as he registers your presence - and proximity. But rather than pull away, he simply drinks in the sight of you like a man stumbling across an oasis in the desert.

"Mornin'," he rasps, voice low and sleep-rough. A tiny smile tugs at one corner of his mouth, private and unbearably soft. "This is...not how I expected to wake up today."

A corresponding bloom of warmth unfurls behind your sternum, light and giddy. "That makes two of us," you whisper back conspiratorially. Worrying your lower lip between your teeth, you reach out to trace the curve of his cheekbone with a tentative fingertip, marveling at the freedom to do so. "But I'm glad we did. Wake up together, that is."

Chuuya's eyes flutter shut at the innocent caress, a shaky exhale gusting past his lips. Catching your hand in his much larger one, he presses your palm flat over his thundering heart, holding it there like he never wants to let go.

"Me too," he confesses quietly, gaze dark and depthless as it roves over your face. There's something almost pained in his expression, a wistful sort of yearning that echoes through your own hollow bones. "I wish..."

But he cuts himself off with a brisk headshake, jaw firming. That's when your gaze catches on something glinting on the floor amidst your discarded clothing - the sleek, deadly outline of your gun. Reality slams back into focus as you remember your true mission, sent to assassinate this man, this infamous mafioso you've somehow ended up sleeping with.

Chuuya follows your line of sight, shoulders tensing almost imperceptibly as he makes the connection. You see realization filter across his expression - he knows you were sent to kill him. For a drawn-out moment, an electric tension crackles between you, brimming with unvoiced truths.

Rather than react with anger or fear, Chuuya simply holds your gaze steadily. There's an unfamiliar softness graven into the lines around his mouth and eyes as he gives a minute, solemn nod.

"I don’t care, gorgeous. I..." He breaks off, clearing his throat roughly. "Well, it doesn't matter now, does it?"

Your chest constricts painfully at the resignation in his tone, the blatant acceptance that he's sealed his own fate by allowing himself to become entangled with you. You open your mouth, an useless apology on your lips, but Chuuya cuts you off with a gentle shake of his head.

"Don't. Please, just...don't ruin this for me." His smile is wry but doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Let me pretend a little longer that you wanted me as much as I wanted you. That this didn't start as a lie."

The rawness in his voice is like a physical blow, leaving you floundering for breath. You can't tell him that he's right, that you did want him - want him still with a ferocity that terrifies you. Instead, you simply sit up and wordlessly hold your hand out in entreaty, throat too clogged with emotion to speak.

Chuuya's brows knit minutely, but then understanding blooms across his features. With the same care one would use to handle something infinitely precious yet fragile, he takes your proffered hand and guides you to straddle his lap. His large, calloused palms immediately find purchase on your waist, thumbs stroking over your hipbones with infinite tenderness.

For a long stretch, you simply hold one another's weighted gazes, peeling away every remaining barrier with each shuddering inhale. Chuuya's eyes are a kaleidoscope of emotion - yearning, resignation, and something softer that steals the breath from your lungs.

Then, almost as one, you're both leaning in until your foreheads rest flush together. His breath puffs warm and intimate against your parted lips as you simply breathe each other in, savoring this fleeting infinitesimal of connection before the outside world comes crashing back in.

When you finally do move, it's in perfect synchronicity - mouths slanting together in a kiss loaded with every unspent syllable, every aborted caress and aborted heartbeat. It's a messy, ardent thing, all tangled limbs and broken keening noises muffled between your joined mouths.

There's an undercurrent of finality and futility to it all, like two planets locked in their final orbits before terminal destruction. You pour every ounce of feeling you can't name into that scorching mess of tongue and teeth and desperation, trying to convey it all before the chance is torn from your grasp forever.

You aren't sure how long you stay like that, consuming each other in deep, convulsive swallows. By the time you finally break apart, you're both panting harshly, cheeks ruddy and lips swollen. Chuuya's hair is thoroughly mussed, eyes dark and hooded in a way that sends fresh ribbons of heat pooling low in your belly.

His pupils are blown wide, but his gaze is clear and searingly focused as he drags his thumb reverently along the plane of your cheekbone.

"Do it," he rasps, the words barely audible over the thundering of your pulse. "If you have to end this, then make it mean something. Put us both out of our misery, once and for all."

You suck in a sharp breath at the stark simplicity of his declaration. Can feel the truth of those words in your very marrow, stark and inescapable as a terminal diagnosis. There's no future for you beyond this moment, the two of you spinning endlessly around one another in a void while the inexorable machinations of the outside world slowly rend you asunder.

So you do the only thing you can - the only merciful thing left. Reaching behind you in one sinuous movement, your fingers close around the cold, unyielding steel of your gun where it lies discarded on the threadbare sheets.

Chuuya makes no move to stop you or defend himself, entire body lax and at peace as you bring the muzzle up to press firmly against his sternum. He merely watches you through those piercing blue eyes, lips quirking in a tiny, rueful smile.

"That's my girl," he murmurs, voice a ruined rasp of bittersweet devotion. He mutters to no one, voice cracking on the single syllable. "See you around...detective."

And with his end blessing still ringing in your ears, you pull the trigger.

The gunshot is deafening in the small room, the kickback bucking against your shoulder with vicious force. You watch with a sort of detached horror as Chuuya's head rocks back, eyes blowing wide for one final endless moment before his head crumples back onto the couch.

A thin line of crimson immediately begins trickling from the corner of his slack mouth, hot arterial blood already seeping out to stain the leather beneath him in an ever-widening blossom of scarlet. But his expression is one of perfect tranquility, the furrow between his brows smoothed away and those blue, blue eyes frozen in an expression of stunned acceptance.

It's over for him. You remain frozen for what feels like an eternity, simply staring at the body of the man you killed - the man you loved, no matter how briefly or disastrously. Then, with a strange sense of calm settling over you, you turn the gun on yourself.

"See you around...Chuuya,"

those who made it all the way down here, how’re you feeling?

( ✧≖ ͜ʖ≖)

[luxaofhesperides]

For the ghostlights drabbles: “Say my name” with a favor being called in?

Duke had saved Phantom years ago, back when he was just out of high school and working to take down a branch of the government that was kidnapping and experimenting on people, targeting magic users and metas. Phantom had been working on his own to take them down, and they met in the middle, trashing a lab and freeing as many people as they could.

They had managed to shoot his back, knocking him down and making him bleed a glowing green. Phantom couldn’t move, protecting two kids with his body, and Duke couldn’t reach them in time before they were taken away by another swarm of agents. 

He was able to go after them in time, free Phantom and the kids, and evacuated the victims before Phantom rained hell down on the facility.

At the end, standing in the background as they watched paramedics treat the victims and take them towards the nearest hospitals, Phantom had turned towards him and thanked him.

Or rather, he thanked the Signal and offered him a bracelet with a rounded orb of ice, glowing faintly in the dark. If you ever need me, he had said, Hold this, and call me name.

Phantom vanished once the last of the victims were transported to a safer location, and Duke hadn’t seen him since.

He’s kept up with news about Phantom as best he can, but from what he could tell, Phantom is based primarily in Amity Park, Illinois, and the town is fiercely protective of their hero. News rarely leaks out of there, and with them running on their own servers and independent internet, it was nearly impossible to get in from the outside. 

Phantom remained a curious and distant figure in Duke’s life. He holds onto the bracelet still, guarding it carefully and sometimes running his fingers over the ice that never melts.

But he doesn’t call in that favor. He’s never to.

At least, not until now.

Sucking in a breath, Duke prepares himself and holds the orb of ice in the palm of his hand. He’s in civies, unable to hide his identity for this, and closes his eyes. “Phantom,” he says.

For a moment, nothing happens. Duke blinks his eyes open and frowns, mind already forming new plans to contact Phantom. Then the ice goes bitingly cold, almost painful, and the temperature in the room drops dramatically. The ice lifts up from his hand, floating in the air, then cracks open.

White-blue light spills out of it, growing brighter as it seems to swallow up the room entirely. Duke hurries to back up, an arm thrown up to protect his eyes. His breath mists out before him and he shivers as the sound of ice cracking fills the room.

And then, just as suddenly as it started, the light disappears and the cold fades away like a bad dream. 

Slowly, Duke lowers his arm and looks up at Phantom, floating in the middle of his living room with a crown made of ice, engulfed in blue fire, hovers above his head. He looks older, more regal, holding his head high. 

He regards Duke carefully for a minute, then tilts his head and says, “Signal?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Man, I’m so glad you came.”

“You… need help with something? You’re calling in your favor now, right?”

Duke nods. He understands Phantom’s confusion; being in the hero business means that favors like these tend to be used only during the most hopeless of times, when the world is close to ending, when the chances of getting out of a situation alive is close to impossible. It’s exactly the kind of thing Duke was expecting to call Phantom in for.

Not the kid sleeping on his couch.

“You’re a ghost, yeah?”

Phantom blinks at him. “Ghost king, now. Why?”

“Well…” Duke rubs the back of his neck, nervously. “I didn’t really know who else to call, and I can’t do this on my own since I’m not a ghost. But this kid got attached to me and won’t leave, so now I’m taking care of her and I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“I don’t know why you think I have any experience with kids but—”

“She’s a ghost.”

Phantom stops short. “Ah. I see.” He floats down until his feet touch the floor, and then he’s standing like any other person. “Where…?”

Duke looks past Phantom’s shoulder, and Phantom turns to follow his gaze. Chelsea, the ghost girl, looks to be around nine years old and is fast asleep on the couch, curled up under Duke’s softest blanket.

“Signal,” Phantom says quietly, “What, exactly, is the favor you need from me?”

“You can say no,” Duke starts. “I get that this is a lot. But I need help raising her. And since you’re a ghost, I figured you could help me learn about the ghostly side of things. You don’t have to raise her with me or anything! Just… I would appreciate any help you’re willing to give me.”

Phantom doesn’t say no. He doesn’t say anything. He just stares down at Chelsea, an unreadable expression on his face. 

On the couch. Chelsea shifts in her sleep, brows furrowing as she makes a choked noise in the back of her throat.

Moving on autopilot after so many nights of this routine, Duke kneels next to the couch, fishing one of her hands from beneath the blanket. He gives it a few reassuring squeezes, keeping it a slow rhythm to pull her gently from her nightmare. She settles down in just a minute, brow smoothing out as she continues to sleep. 

The silence grows and Duke is all too aware that his heart is the only one beating. 

He doesn’t hear Phantom move. Doesn’t realize he’s right next to him until he sees Phantom’s hand reach out towards Chelsea. When Duke looks, Phantom is sitting on the floor next to Duke, looking at Chelsea with something soft and devastated in his eyes. His hand hovers about her head for a long moment, then slowly lowers to rest on her head. 

The touch looks gently, barely putting any pressure on her head, but it’s enough to make Chelsea’s eyes snap open, suddenly wide awake. She stares at Phantom with wide eyes, then sits up and looks between him and Duke.

“Who are you?” she asks in a small voice that makes Duke want to stand against the world to keep her safe. 

Phantom smiles. It’s casual and charming and makes him look like anyone else, as if he’s not a powerful king from a realm unreachable to humans. “Hi there,” he says, “I’m Danny. I’m a ghost like you. Signal called me and asked me to meet you.”

The Ghost King is good with kids. Who would have thought?

Chelsea looks at him for confirmation and only relaxes when he nods. “I’m Chelsea. What do you mean ghost? I’m not dead.”

Both he and Phantom tense, carefully keeping their expressions neutral. She hasn’t told him much at all, just that her parents were gone and forgot her and she got hurt, so she wanted to stay with ‘Mr. Signal’ because he’s a hero and heroes keep people safe and he was the only one who was Black like her. Duke hadn’t had the heart to say no, and began searching for her family, only to find that her parents had fled the state, and likely the country, after killing their only child through neglect and a dangerous environment. 

It was then that he realized that her powers were not because she was a meta, but because she was ghost.

It still hurts to realize how young she is, how much of her life had been stolen from her in an instant. Duke hadn’t been brave enough to broach the topic with her, instead choosing to let her grow comfortable in his presence, get them both settled into a routine now that he was her primary guardian. 

“I know it sounds scary,” Phantom says, “And you may not want to believe me, but it’s true. I’m sorry that you died so young, but that just means you get to hang out with me and other ghosts from now on!”

Chelsea crosses her arms over her chest and glares at him. “I am not dead,” she says.

“Cici, I’m sorry to say this, but you are,” Duke cuts in. “That’s why I called… Danny. You have new powers as a ghost, and he can help you get used to them.”

“I’m not dead!” she says again.

“Kid,” Phantom begins, but Chelsea shakes her head hard and hops off the couch.

“I’m not lying! Watch, I’ll prove it to you!” She closes her eyes and scrunches up her nose, concentrating. Her hands curl into tight fists by her sides, and the glow around her grows dim. Two faint, stuttering rings of light appear around her waist. They flicker and wobble in the air, as if weak and uncertain of their own existence, then split apart, one moving up towards her head while the other falls to her feet.

Beside him, Phantom sucks in a sharp breath, but Duke can’t turn to see what’s wrong when he’s trying to take in the sight of Chelsea suddenly full of vibrant color, looking more solid that he’s ever seen her, very much alive.

“See?” she says proudly, lifting her arms and doing a spin to show off her right she was. “I told you I’m not dead!”

“No, you’re not,” Phantom agrees, sounding shell-shocked. When Duke is finally able to look away from Chelsea to check on him, he looks awed. There’s the smallest smile on his face, just the slightest upturn of his lips, but it makes him look softer.

Duke turns his attention back to Chelsea before he can be caught staring. “Cici, can you come here for a second?”

She goes before he’s finished speaking, crossing the space between them in a single jump, then grins up at him. Her hair is a bit of a mess, the two buns he managed to get her hair into falling askew. He makes a note to visit the old aunties in the Narrows later to ask them to teach him how to do hair. For now, he holds out a hand and Chelsea drops an arm into it.

It seems to good to be true, having her be alive, but her pulse is steady and strong when he presses his thumb against the inside of her wrist. 

“Well,” he says, leaning back and letting go of her arm. “You certainly proved us wrong.”

Chelsea doesn’t have much time to look smug before PHantom quietly says, “You’re like me.”

“What?”

“You’re like me,” he tells Chelsea. “A halfa.”

She tilts her head to one side. “What’s that?”

“Someone who is half human and half ghost. Both dead and alive.”

Duke blinks, taking in the words, then turns to face Phantom so quickly he’s worried he might give himself whiplash. Halfa, he said. Like me, he said. 

And sure enough, two rings of light, bright and strong, appear around Phantom’s waist before splitting in half, moving over his entire body. 

Gone is the Ghost King, all powerful and adorned in dark clothing with a crown of ice above his head. In his place is a guy who looks to be Duke’s age, eyes a deep blue and his black hair messy, feet set solidly on the floor. He looks completely normal, completely human, and no longer an impossibility.

“You still up for learning how to use all your new powers?” Phantom asks.

Chelsea grins. “Yeah!” And then, with a quick flick of her eyes going from Phantom to Duke that he almost misses, very innocently asks, “Are you going to stay with us then?”

“I… don’t know?” Phantom looks to Duke for an answer.

Already, Duke can see this going two ways. The correct way forward, the normal one, has Phantom popping in every so often, taking Chelsea out for a few hours to work on training her and her powers. It’s easy and routine and they can keep their boundaries uncrossed and be professional. 

The other path is what Duke wants most that he shouldn’t impose onto the literal Ghost King. He could have Phantom living with them while he’s on Earth and out of Amity Park, having a place at the table, a section in the closet for his own clothes, a quietly domestic night together while Chelsea sleeps where they can get to know each other more, get to know each other outside of news reports and texts on a screen.

“You can stay with us if you want,” Duke offers, casually, “It might keep my apartment safe from her powers acting up on their own again.”

“Are you sure? I could always just fly in on the weekends or something.”

“I’d appreciate having you around. So you can help Cici.”

“If you don’t mind,” Phantom says, looking away. Like this, fully alive with a beating heart, it’s easy to see the blush steal away across his cheeks. 

“I don’t.”

“I don’t either!” Chelsea pops in, looking far too gleeful by their awkward conversation.

Duke can’t help but laugh, feeling lighter than he had in ages. The relief of knowing that Chelsea is alive, for the most part at least, eases the guilt of thinking he had been too late to save her, that there was no chance she could have made it out and had a future, makes him feel weak. All the exhaustion of the past few weeks hits him all at once and he wants nothing more than to collapse in bed and sleep for twelve hours.

“Alright, squirt,” he says, reaching out to pat her head. “It’s late. We can talk more in the morning, so go to bed. In your actual bed this time, not on the couch.”

Chelsea stands up taller, ready to argue, but Duke gives her a Look™ and she quickly shuts her mouth, nods, and drags her feet back to her room (the former guestroom he can never give any of the other Waynes ever again, once they find out about her). 

Sighing, Duke collapses onto the couch once he hears the door shut behind her. Phantom joins him after a few seconds, sitting tentatively on the edge of the couch. The cushion moves beneath his weight, another reminder of how solid and alive he is right not.

Duke wants to touch him, to reach out and feel for himself his pulse, the warmth of his body, his chest lifting with each breath. 

He doesn’t move. He stays where he is, hands carefully still, and tries to think past the dizzying thoughts of she’s still alive, I’m not too late, he’s still here, he’s alive.

“Rough week?” Phantom asks, voice purposefully light.

“Something like that.”

“You should get some sleep too.”

“I don’t think I can. Not after everything. My mind’s too loud right now.”

Phantom shifts closer to him, hesitant in a way that Duke has never seen before in him, and asks, “Want me to stay with you until you mind quiets down some?”

“Yeah. I’d like that. Thanks, Phantom.”

“You know, if I’m going to be around so often as Chelsea’s halfa mentor, then you might as well call me Danny.”

Truth be told, Duke didn’t think that was his real name. He’s glad to know it’s not. 

“Then call me Duke.”

“...Are you sure? You could still hide your identity from me.”

“Nah, I trust you. A name for a name, yeah?”

Danny smiles. “Duke,” he says, testing out the name, and it’s never sounded better than when it falls from Danny’s mouth.

“Danny,” Duke returns. He belatedly realizes that they’ve leaned towards each other, drawn together like gravity, stuck in each other’s orbit. It feels natural. It feels like this is where they’re meant to be.

Maybe he should be more cautious. They’ve only meant once before, after all. But he’s read all he could on Phantom and has seen how Amity Park loves him. He’s stressed and exhausted and trying to figure out how to look after a half-ghost child that’s already been dealt a bad hand in life. He should be keeping Phantom at a distance, watching over him carefully to ensure he isn’t a threat to Chelsea.

But Duke saw how he acted with Chelsea, so gentle and understanding and kind. That’s all he needed to see.

He may not know much about Danny, but he knows this: he is trustworthy.

Enough to entrust his identity to him.

Enough to entrust Chelsea to him.

It’s more than a favor; it’s a promise to walk this road together. 

There’s no one he’d rather do this with. 

“Thanks,” he says again, “For all of this. I know it’s a lot.”

Danny shrugs. “I don’t mind. Really. It’s nice to know there’s another halfa out there, no matter how she came to be one. Makes things feel less lonely.”

“Will you tell me more about halfas?”

“Later. Once you get some proper rest. We’ve got time, haven’t we?”

“We do,” Duke agrees, affection settling warm in his chest. “We’ve got plenty of time.”

Learning how to control her new powers won’t be easy for Chelsea. Learning how to take care of her won’t be easy. Learning how to do things together, as Duke and Danny rather than the Signal and Phantom, won’t be easy. But Duke knows with a certainty he feels in his bones that they’re going to be fine.

So long as they’ve got each other, they’ll be fine.

[satoshy12]

Medic Danny + DC

Danny doesn't to Phantom , as it would stand out that while Fenton is gone Phantom is at same place. And he doesn't want to fight.

While on a vacation in the States, Danny utilized his ghost ice to freeze his parents' portal, ensuring the safety of Amity Park during his absence. Just to make sure Amity Park is okay while he is gone.

With the help of Wulf's teachings, he traveled around the world using a portal, eliminating the need for a plane or expensive travel costs.

However, his travels were interrupted by the constant need to provide first aid to injured individuals in cities such as Gotham, Metropolis, Star City, Coast City, and Detroit.

Danny had to perform first aid on many people while visiting the cities.

He could say he had helped more than 200 people already. He stopped to count after helping so many people that it kind of happen so many times while the summer vacation. But was happy to be able to help them all.

Upon returning to the border of Amity Park using his portal, Danny discovered that the entire town was at peace, as the ghosts had stopped causing trouble.

As he returned home, he noticed the whole town was doing a Ba Sing Se.

Although his parents were irritated with their frozen portal, Amity Park was happier. And while his parents were angry and didn't give up trying to melt the ice. Amity Park was happier, and Danny could use his own portal to visit the zone. So he left the portal and lab on ghost ice.

However, when Danny suddenly vanished, people began to search for the small but skilled first-aid provider.

+++

After Danny was suddenly out of the radar, people noticed and started to search for the tiny, thin boy.

The people who had met Danny were really distressed by the amount of first-aid skill he possessed. It spoke of experience that someone so young shouldn't have.

Amanda Waller was pretty interested in him. After all, the boy had helped her and her daughter when they almost became casualties of a Superman vs. Brainiac fight. So she called her agents to search for the boy.

JL meeting

Green Arrow called DIBS on him, and he would sponsor him for the future when he wants to study.

Bruce himself said the same as he noticed they all talked about the same boy. Superman wanted to thank Danny because he saved many lives while Kal was busy fighting against Brainiac.

Flash only met him once, and because of how fast Barry was, he just brought the wounded to the hospital because it was much faster.

The few heroes who didn't meet him listened to them argue.

Having no idea that few villains who Danny helped too, as civilians were having a similar moment.

[sleepy-writes-stuff]

DP X DC WRITING PROMPT #10

(#) = Notes at end of post

TW: mentions of human experimentation and blood

✦

The Sapphire Stone Sits Highest on the Throne

The GIW have done the unthinkable. They've captured Phantom, King of the Infinite Realms and ruler of all who reside within it. The government organization tortured and experimented on Danny so much and for so long that Danny was forced to recede into his core. While a ghost's core is relatively strong by itself --only another ghost of similar strength could shatter it-- it's also extremely vulnerable to misuse if left in the wrong hands.

The GIW use the King's core to ravage Amity Park --uncaring if human citizens got in their way-- as well as the Ghost Zone itself. The Ancients combine their efforts to search for the lost, little king, desperately trying to find Danny's core and take it back from the blood and ectoplasm stained hands of the agents. As a result of their dogged search, the Ancients bring worldwide destruction down upon the Earth in their hunt for every single white suit agent remaining, scurrying from one hiding place to another like rats in the walls of a dilapidated house.

One by one, almost every agent was hunted down and bound in unbreakable chains of ice, awaiting their trials for the atrocities they committed against the Infinite Realms and its King. The only one left is the leader of the organization itself, the one who holds Danny's core. The leader, however, is extremely slippery and has managed to evade capture for months now, going so far as to throw their own men to the wolves if it meant an easy escape with the jewel-blue heart of a scared, grieving, and injured child.

At this point though, the Ancients have caused so much destruction and natural disasters, that the Justice League has no choice but to step in. At first, the JL actively try to fight the Ancients, not fully understanding the situation but having little luck in actually hitting any of them regardless. It isn't until John Constantine runs onto the battlefield like a bat out of hell and skids to a stop right smack dab in the middle of the fight that things change. He's out of breath, his hair is in disarray, he smells heavily of smoke and alcohol, and that's definitely a still fresh coffee stain on his weather beaten trenchcoat along with red blood painting his knuckles.

Normally, one small human wouldn't be able to stop the wrath of the Ancients when they've set their sights on something. This instance, however, was very different. As Constantine raised his hands up towards the rampaging Ancients about to unleash their fury on the JL, one thing managed to capture every single one of their attention.

That being the weakly glowing, sapphire-like core held in one of Constantine's outstretched hands(1 & 2) and the faint, echoing cries of a child begging the Ancients to put an end to the carnage they've unleashed upon the world.

✦

Notes:

(1) Constantine gives little explanation on how he got his hands on Danny's core. Little do the JL know, it was just pure, dumb luck. He ran into the leader of the GIW right as the bastard was leaving a coffee shop. Coffee got spilled all over Constantine and, being slightly drunk off his ass, he decides to deck the person in the pretentious white suit and knocks him out in one shot. Constantine's about to walk away when he hears a child crying. He finds Danny's core in one of the downed guy's pockets and has a panic attack when he immediately realizes what it is. Danny explains what's going on and Constantine books it towards where he can sense a large amount of necrotic energy gathering. The rest is history.

(2) ALSO, sapphire is a pretty significant gem. According to the internet, the sapphire symbolizes wisdom, royalty, prophecy and divine favour. It's a symbol of power and strength, but also of kindness and wise judgement. Which just fits Danny PERFECTLY in this prompt, imo.

[winterarmyy]

Never Lie To Me

A series of random Bucky Drabbles that I can't let go but don't have the brain to make the whole complete plot of.

Summary: In which Y/N's sinful thoughts towards the Asset is reciprocated.

Pairing: winter soldier!bucky x hydra agent!female!reader

Words: 3.4k++

Warnings: 18+ content, no minors allowed, nsfw, purely smut and lack of plot, honestly. messy writing and lack of dialogue, sorry for that. Others may include probably incorrect russian due to the use of google translate, marking kink (if you squint), metal hand kink, finger-fucking, clit spanking, unprotected sex, creampie, soldat doesn't talk much, i figured he is more reserved but that doesn't mean his actions are (*wink wink*) he is kinda rough but the reader highkey loves it, just bunch of horny pent-up mfs getting some action for once, y'know.

Inspiration: "Cause I can see you waiting down the hall for me and I can see you up against the wall with me." – I Can See You (From The Vault) by Taylor Swift.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

Y/N didn't understand why was she sent to this field mission. There were literally dozens of others that were much suitable to do it and yet they chose her of all people? Considering her much leisure job for the past months, which basically just to guard a lab, Hydra seemed to forgot that her body have been lack of combat practice.

She hated this. This mission. This organization. All of it.

Y/N was one of those kids that Hydra stole from the orphanages for their Phantom program; it is where they train, or accurately brainwash, the kids into highly skilled assassin. And she was one of the top 5 out of the program in her batch.

But after a certain incident in one of the mission in Peru, she was temporarily relocated to Siberia to, as they say, "recover" before they can assign get into another mission. There, she was given a much lenient task, which was to guard the lab where the Winter Soldiers were created.

Those few months was both heaven and hell for her; heaven was that she didn't need to be soaked in the blood of the innocent lives and hell was that she had to be a bystander to the cruelty of the dehumanizing process of the Winter Soldier program.

Sure, everything Hydra does to its "followers" are, by nature, imbrute. I mean, she was trained like a dog since she was but a child, but this. This was just another level of evil. Such vile and merciless thing to do to another human being. The muzzles that Hydra shoved in their mouth doesn't really help to reduce the excruciating noises that they made.

Though, while she was physically forced to witness the atrociousness, there was one constant thing that kept her mind off from it all.

They call him the Asset. In fact he was the first one. But she'd rather think of him simply as a man sleeping in a cryo chamber.

Y/N had heard of this "monster", the rumours were terrible as they come and go, but she find it hard to believe that when the soldat had such a calm and kind expression on his face, even if his features were frozen in ice. That was her first impression of him; then day by day, and what felt like ages, she watched him.

Her curiosity got the best of her when she started to think of scenarios and possibilities that the man had quickly became her escape from the horrid reality around her.

Though she spend most of her time trying not to feel it, but the other times, well... the thoughts went a little wild. At one point, they got too personal even for her own mind to comprehend.

After a month of reporting at the new post, she heard the whispers of "thawing the asset" from other agents and scientists around the lab. And surely enough, one of those day, the soldat was brought back from his slumber.

It didn't cross her mind before, of what color laid behind those closed lids. But when she saw his eyes for the first time, she was in complete awe. They were blue as the vast ocean she once jet-skied over; but they were as cold like when she stepped foot at this snow covered facility.

The contrast of his dark hair and tanned skin only makes his bright eyes to become the most prominent feature on his face. And Y/N just couldn't tear her gaze away, especially when the Hydra agent that supposed to retrieve him was making such a big fuss over how slow the soldat was reacting to their commands.

What do they expect? He was literally frozen for lord knows how long just a few seconds ago. Everything must be dissociating for him. So of course, the man's mind and body needs time to adjust.

The soldat abruptly fell on his knees after exiting the chamber, causing one of the guards to strike a kick across his face, "вставай, паршив��я собака! (Get up, you lousy dog!)"

And that was it, Y/N had enough of it, "Hey!" she shouted as her stomped towards the guards. The duo quickly stood straight and showed their respect to her; knowing that those who graduated from Phantom program has higher ranking than them.

The moment Y/N found her footing in front of him, the palm of her hand landed harshly across his face, "Do you realized what you just did?" She asked as the taller regained to his prior composure.

"That man!" She pointed at the soldat who was obediently sitting on the floor, "Is Hydra's most prized asset. He alone is worth thousands of you useless scumbags. And you had the audacity to lay your hands on him?!" She roared and the lab fell into silent.

The two guards can only bite on their own tongue knowing what she said was true. The soldat was in fact the Hydra's precious weapon, as for now that he was the only one who successfully weilded the super soldier serum in his veins.

Y/N walked around and stood in front of the soldat, "Are you hurt, soldat?" she asked as her gaze fell on him. His head was hanging low as he bored his empty eyes into the shine of Y/N's black boots; he shook his head and replied, "No, ma'am"

She knew he was lying, especially when she saw the drips of blood on his pants, "Look at me." She ordered in which the soldat complied. And there it was, the source of the mess, the red cut on the corner of his lips. Her frown only deepened when the bruises were slowly forming on his cheek bones.

Y/N crouched to his level, as her hand reaching for his cheeks. His body halted and stiffened when she approached, but only to be surprised by the soft carress of her fingers on his face, "If you're not injured, then what's this?" She whispered lowly; a tone where just the two of them can hear.

The soldat's empty eyes almost melt in hers; he never saw her before, who is she? Why was there so much kindness in her eyes? And why was she holding him so gently?

He let her careful thumb wiped the blood from his chin before whispered again, "Never lie to me, soldat. Do you understand?"  The soldat obediently nodded as a spiral of indescribable emotions stirred within him. His eyes lingered at the way her lips formed into a soft smile, "Good." She praised.

Since then, the soldat's gaze had remain on her almost all the time. From the moment she threatened the two guards, to the time she looked away from the tortured candidates of the Winter Soldier program, to this very second as she undresses every part of her suit.

Though the mission was a success however, their plane was utterly wrecked by an unforeseen mini gun. So they were forced to walk through the snow storm and find shelter at one of Hydra's safe house.

It was not rare for the soldat to be paired with other agents on a mission but never with a woman. Much less the pretty little bunny that he had been obsessing over. Ever since that incident, the soldat often think of her. And he really tried too keep everything professional but something within him changed lately.

One particularly distinct moment that he experienced that made it clear to him; it was when he was waiting in the hall for his handlers to drag him around the facilities, and she happen to walk towards him from the opposite side. And when he brushed pass her, he noticed how his hands was itching to grab her by the neck and push her up against the wall.

As if there was this strong urge to claim her, mark her, fuck her. That was when he realized. The soldat wanted her. He wanted ruin her for everyone else. He wanted her to be his. But, he knew they keep watchful eyes on him. On both of them. And he can't risk that.

But now that she was standing right in front of him, in her underwear no less, how was he supposed to control himself?

Y/N turned her attention towards the soldat, he stood absolutely still that she almost thought he was literally frozen, "Why are you not stripping? Even with that super soldier serum in you, I doubt that you don't feel cold from those snow-soaked clothes."

Maybe it was the dim-lit room, but she swore that the soldat eyes darkened when she walk towards him. Especially when his eyes ranked the way her wet undergarments stick onto her skin.

How many times did she fantasize about the way he was looking at her. How many times did she made herself cum from the thoughts on grinding her cunt into his metal fingers.

Too many to count.

Especially when, in her head, she could see him in his suit with his knives, she could see him throwing his black mask on the floor, she could see him bending her over to his will, she could see him make her want him, crave him, need him.

And whenever their eyes met, she often think of the what-ifs between them. Like, what would he do if she went to touch him now? What would he do if Hydra never found them out? What would he do if they never made a sound?

What would he think if she made him her own personal addiction? Then will he entertain her fantasies by making her his own secret mission?

"Remember what I told you, soldat?" She asked as her hands reached for his mask.

Without hesitation, the soldat replied, "Never lie to you." as his face was bare for her to see.

Y/N took a step forward, so close that he could almost feel her skin on him, "Now tell me, what do you want?" Her eyes found his diluted ones as he lifted his gaze from her cleavage to meet hers.

His cock was rather truthful even from the beginning; now more than before when it twitched painfully in the confinement of his pants. The soldat hissed to the feel of it before he confessed, "I want you."

Y/N couldn't help but to smile, "Then, have me, soldat."

That was all he needed to hear. Her permission to have her, to own her. Then, very next second, he had her body pinned firmly against the wall, his lips on her soft ones, his wet tongue exploring in her mouth.

The soldat had his metal hand gripping the back of her neck, not wanting that pretty head of hers to hit the wall; while the other hand unabashedly teared the bra off from her body.

Breaking the kiss, the soldat's lustful gaze watched how her breasts became bare for him. So pretty and perky. His cock twitched madly as if it was ordering him to touch them, suck on them. And he did just that.

The soldat took her right nipple into his hot mouth while his free hand pawed on the other. Y/N moaned lewdly at roughness of his hand and mouth. When she threw her head back, that was when she saw it. At the corner of the room, she noticed a CCTV camera directly situated towards their direction

She grabbed a handful of his long hair, and lightly tugged him back but he refused to stop sucking on her. Y/N huffed when she whispered, "They're watching us."

That was when the soldat quickly released her from his mouth and quickly hovered his huge body over her, he growled possessively as his quick eyes scanned for all the nearby camera.

Y/N chuckled amusingly at his reaction, "Do you not like it when they watch us?" She teased. The soldat growled again as he pulled her closer, her nipples perked even more now that they touched the cold fabric of his clothes, "Mine. Mine alone." He declared.

Y/N looked up at him with a pair of seductive eyes, "Then, what are you going to do about it?" She taunted. The soldat swiftly pulled his knives out from his thigh strap and threw it directly at the lens of each camera in the room. Now no one would have a chance witness her divine body, or see what her face looks like when he make her cum.

There weren't much of intelligible words that came out of his mouth after that, besides the grumble noises of the word "mine".

The soldat latched her mouth onto her skin, particulary around her neck, collarbone and the valley of her breast. He kissed and licked and sucked to leave his mark on her as his metal hand dug into her hips.

Meanwhile, the flesh of his right hand slide right into her panties. He fingers trailed the outer slit of her cunt; as if he was purposely teasing her, "Зайка (bunny)" he groaned against her neck when he felt how wet she was. She squirmed needily under his hand, when his middle finger poked her entrance while his thumb grazed across her clit.

"So wet, all for me?" He purred as his finger slowly dug into her hole. Y/N whined and grabbed his wrist before he could go any further, "Want your metal fingers, soldat." she slurred deliriously; already drunk with his touches.

It took all his might to not fuck her right there and then when she let him have her. The soldat wanted to treat her gently, prepare her sweetly. Now that she had confessed such sinful desire, something in him just snapped.

He pulled his hand out, and effortlessly ripped her panties from her body before lifting one of her legs up, pushing her thighs towards her body. She yelped at the sudden roughness, embarrassment crept across her spine when the soldat licked his lips at the sight of her cunt, wide open for him.

"Want my metal fingers huh,  Зайка (bunny)?" He trailed his metal fingers along her wet hole, "You got it." He abruptly shoved two of his digits into her, causing her to let out a loud gasp at the sudden intrusion.

The soldat didn't give her time to adjust, he simply pulled his fingers out to the very tip and thrust it back into her. And he does it again, and again and again. Until the pain turn into sheer pleasure.

When her eyes rolled back and shut close, the soldat growled disapprovingly, "No. Don't close your eyes. Look. Look down. Watch how your wet little hole take my metal fingers. That's it. Look at you. Fuck. Look. At. You." His pace didn't lose its rhythm when he fucked his fingers hard and fast; he curled them just right every time he hit that deep spot inside her.

His metal fingers was better that she had ever imagine, and the sight that she was looking at was so lewd that she was already so overstimulated from it, then when his thumb circled her clit, she thought she was seeing actual stars.

Streams of fluid was squelching everytime he shoved his fingers knuckles deep into her, that it trickled down his hand. It was so messy and the soldat loves it. He want her to be this messy all the time. He wanted to clean her up with his tongue. Lick every drip of her sweet fluid, swollow it like he was thristy and she was water.

At the this point, he would be willing to stay on his knees if it means that he get to have her cunt on his mouth always.

The soldat growled at the way she moaned so shamelessly at how harsh his fingers was violating her sweet pussy. He kept on rubbing on her clit and watched her body shuddered when he slap on it. Seeing her reaction, he continued to spank her clit and he fucked her harder; one, two, three, four, until she cried out a long moan and her pussy gushed with her creamy cum.

And seeing how her body trembled, her cream dripping out onto his hand, the soldat almost combust in his pants. Though apart of him wanted to feel her sweaty skin on his own, another just wanted to feel her warm pussy.

So, instead of wasting more of his time undressing himself, the soldat hurriedly unzipped his pants to release his aching cock out. He pulled his finger out and licked her cum clean while his other hand lazily pumped his leaking length, "Taste so good, Зайка (bunny). Bet you feel good too."

Y/N whined at his action, he looked so hot and bothered. And something about him fully clothed while pumping his needy cock for her; it just drives her to near feral. She let out an exasperated gasp when the soldat maneuvered her legs to cling around his waist, while his hand gripped on her hips. Her voice then stuck on her throat when he thrust his cock deep inside in one stroke.

His size was stretching her out so much that it burned, a good type of burn; in fact, the best type. The soldat on the other hand almost burst his cum the moment he entered her. She felt so good. Better that his rough hands when he jerked off to the though of her. But he was determined to make her cum on his dick before he get his own high.

So without letting her adjust to his size, he slowly pulled out and harshly slammed right back into her; fuck does it feel so good. And her mewling so needily for him does not help the situation at all. He repeated the same thing over and over until he managed to suck up his need to cum, then fasten his pace. And the sound of her wetness rubbing against his cock when he pounded into her was so damned and sinful, that never wanted to forget.

Her back repeatedly hit the wall from the force of his thrust that she needed to hold on his shoulders for support. His pace was fast and deep, almost erratic. Her moans broken when she felt the tip of her cock ramming at her womb, her walls clenching in delight to welcome such huge and hot length inside her. Every stroke was perfect and if she had no self-control she would be cumming each time the soldat forced his cock into her.

His hips slapped against her and she eagerly followed his every thrust, desperate to meet his skin as much as he was for her. And when she looked up to him, the soldat was looking directly into her. His ocean blues dove into her soul as his grunts tangled with her cries.

His breathing stuttered and his pace flatter. She could tell he was getting close. But, the soldat refused to; not until she cum first.

In and out. In and out. His pace became brutally delicious. Her nerves were stretching so good that her toes curled and that was when she felt the coil forming. Short needy pants left her lips, each one was a sign that she was getting closer to ecstacy, "I'm cumming, soldat. Please,, don't stop."

The soldat groaned, "Don't hold back." He pounded into her impossibly harder; and the delicious drag of his cock continued to punish her into pure ecstasy, forcing her cum to leak out and lather around his throbbing length, "That’s it, Cum for me, Зайка (bunny). Cum for your soldat,, ahh fuck so tight, i'm cumming too, ahh." The soldat chased his own release as continued to thrust inside her clenching hole.

"Fuckkkk i'm cumming inside you, Зайка (bunny). Will mark you mine with my cum. Ahhh ahhh fuckk", the soldat moaned to the addictive feel of her cunt milking him, and soon after when it hits him, his cock throbbed wildly as his cream leaked from the tip, endlessly filling her womb full with his warm cum.

Y/N whined to the amount of warm fluid spreading inside her. And when she thought his slowed thrust was a sign of an end, she couldn't be wrong. The soldat slowly pulled his cock out to the very tip, just pound it back into her. He groaned at the sight of his creamy cum spilling out, circling where his cock was stuffing her. Then he does it again, and again.

Until she started to moan for him, "hmmm,, s-soldat?" She hoped that he would explain himself.

His dark eyes only glint with lust and greed when a small smiled curved on his lips, "Oh, Зайка (bunny), I'm not done with you until I mark every part of you as mine."

End.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: This scene has been played out in my head the whole day when Speak Now (TV) came out. Anyway, hope you enjoyed this short read! Drop some thought behind for me would you?

[unhelpfulfemme]

Okay, so you know how Barrayar is full of stories of evil mutants kidnapping innocent Vor maidens, just like we IRL have a bunch of story templates exploiting our societal fears of some exoticized evil Other stealing our women?

And you know how modern romance/erotica takes those stories and turns them into erotic fantasies? Like, women have been going mad over The Phantom of the Opera for centuries, we've had stories about innocent maidens being forced into arranged marriages with big dick sheikhs and Middle Eastern princes for decades, and in the past decade or so both monster romance and villain romance have become completely mainstream staples of the genre?

And you know how Miles allegedly killing Tien so he could court Ekaterin was Vorbarr Sultana's Scandal of the Year for a short while, before the whole affair was capped by Ekaterin's very memorable and very public proposal?

Now, imagine some repressed Vor housewives hearing about it and thinking, in a similar vein to what Mark thought, "NGL, that's kinda hot. I always did have those fantasies where I was ravished by the villain, and I really do sometimes wish my boring sexist husband were dead." Because now that they've caught up on galactic genetics the actual fear of mutant children is kinda low among the bored upper class housewives who can afford gene cleaning, so it's the perfectly zeitgeisty moment to exoticize and objectify the mutants instead.

So one of said bored housewives decides to anonymously write a pulpy gothic-esque dark romance/erotica novel about it. Except obviously the scrawny short guy doesn't make for an appealing romantic hero, so she makes him a Taura-esque tall, massively ripped fellow who growls all his lines a là ACOTAR's Rhysand and conveniently makes all his mutations sexy in the vein of, like, A/B/O novels or Ice Planet Barbarians.

Imagine "Ravished by the Billionaire Secret Agent Mutant Count" slowly becoming popular among the ladies and the main cast learning about it, Miles lamenting about it having come out now when he's happily married and not when he was fifteen and desperate to get laid, Ivan suddenly gaining a lot more traction with the girls because they've caught onto the real life inspiration for the novel and are wondering if the Big Dick Mutation comes from Ivan's side of the family, Cordelia shamelessly reading it at dinner (she's the only person who's read it without wrapping the cover) and annoyedly pointing out the biological inaccuracies as Aral begs her to stop, Mark seeing the opportunity for a cash grab and buying the holodrama rights...

[op-sys-chaos]

DPxDC Danny and Jason Prompt

Phantom and Robin knew each other in the Infinite Realms. A newly dead Robin had helped the young Ghost King in a fight when a group of ghosts had tried to kill him. (Danny hadn’t done anything wrong in their eyes per se, they just wanted a fully dead king so they tried to beat him up enough for him to switch back so they could kill him.) Robin had jumped in to help, and the two 15 year olds had become fast friends.

For the 6 months that Jason was dead, the two explored the realms. Danny was often gone living his life, but when he had the time the two would explore the realms together. But eventually, in the middle of a conversation, Jason vanished, having been resurrected.

Being king, Danny sensed it and shrugged. They had barely told each other anything about their personal lives but Jason knew that Danny Phantom was a half a who protected a small town in the middle of nowhere that was shielded from the outside world by a curse and Danny knew that Jason was a superhero named Robin, sidekick of another hero called Batman, and worked in a big city called Gotham. (Dealer’s choice if Lady Gotham occasionally joined the two for tea during this time or if she doesn’t exist.)

The next five years, the two have no contact. They’re off doing their own thing. But then the GIW captures Danny and, being government, takes him to their main base in DC. They get him there, and begin vivisecting him.

The vivisection is interrupted by the Fentons breaking down the door, insisting that their little boy be given back (he was taken as a human after a transformation back after a rough fight happened in front of the GIW agents). When they see Phantom, though, they drop their weapons and ask to join the vivisection, even if only as observers. “If we can watch the vivisection, and you hand us back our son safe and sound afterwards, we’ll pretend this never happened,” they say. The GIW sees their chance and agrees, fully intending to break the deal. The vivisection continues.

But because two heavily armed crazy people broke into a government base, someone’s noticed. Wonder Woman saw the pair enter the building from the sky and asked Batman to research the place. He comes back a few hours later with horrifying results about who the organization is and what they’re up to. Wonder Woman starts tearing the place down with her bare hands.

In the chaos and confusion, the GIW agents and the Fentons go off to stop what they assume is an evil ghost. Danny takes the chance and, with a whole lot of effort and a little luck that the GIW was stupid enough to leave a “free the guy on the table” button in the room, he escapes. (Tiny balls of ice flicked at a button at a high velocity are apparently enough to press it. It just took him a minute to be accurate, especially since his powers were barely working at all.)

With nowhere to go, Danny decides to run to the only place besides Amity that he’s ever heard of.

Gotham City.

Holding his insides together with his hands, Danny flies out of the building and manages to find a map (probably from a friendly tourist that’s too used to seeing weird shit bc it’s the DC universe) that tells him where he is and how to get to Gotham. He reaches it in an hour. And promptly collapses on a rooftop. Turns out, flying hundreds of miles immediately after a vivisection while holding your insides together is exhausting.

He’s laying there when a few Bat people come upon him. They start panicking; who’s the glowing dude holding his insides together with his arms while passed out on a rooftop?

Moments later, more batfamily members join them. All are confused, until Red Hood grapples in, takes one look at the guy on the ground, and says “Phantom?”

Everyone looks at Jason, but he’s staring at the guy on the ground. He rushes forward and his knees buckle as he kneels next to Phantom. “Phantom!” Jason exclaims, giving him the gentlest of shakes so as not to disturb his injuries while still waking him up.

Phantom cracks an eye open. He sees the man in front of him and, despite the very different outfit and the face-covering helmet, whispers “Robin?”

From here, the fic goes into Danny healing from his wounds, Jason and Danny revealing how they know each other, Jason and Danny freaking out the Justice League because they straight up didn’t tell anyone that Danny’s the ghost king but Constantine recognizes the king and has a mental breakdown about it, and maybe even some Jason/Danny slowburn!

[aprocessionofthoughts]

He's a Phantom

whumptober23 day 27- let me see fandom- dp x dc TW- brief injury summary- Jason encounters the GIW

ao3 whumptober23 masterlist part 6 of DLM

They had been searching for an hour when Jason heard a commotion. He approached the noise and saw three men in white suits on the neighboring rooftop. 

His first thought was that they must be out of towners and that they were stupid to be wearing all white. His second thought was, oh shoot, they’re carrying weapons. Specifically they had weird, glowing green weapons.

He was about to call it in when all three men turned to him, raised their weapons and fired.

Jason rolled out of the way and took out his own guns as he continued to dodge their shots.

He fires off a few shots of his own and manages to hit one of the agent’s legs. But he doesn’t have time to celebrate this victory since immediately after one of the glowing green beams hits him in the shoulder. 

It burns. Jason stumbles back trying to avoid the rest of the shots, but another clips his side and another his leg. He crumples to the ground. It feels like acid eating away at him. His mind is going fuzzy with pain.

He needs to call for help.

He can faintly hear them discussing how best to get to where he is. He can’t let them do that. 

Shakily, he activates his comm. “O.”

“What is it, Hood?”

“I think— I think I found our bad guys…” he slurs.

“Hood, what do you mean?”

Jason can’t bring himself to answer. HIs whole body feels like it’s burning.

“Hood! I’m sending Nightwing to your location.”

Jason can’t acknowledge her. He hopes his brother gets here soon. He can hear the agents walking up the fire escape.

He tries to get up again, but he can barely move his arms.

Then he hears a shout and the sound of the weapons being fired again. There’s a buzzing in the air, the faint hum of electricity, and the cold bite of winter wind.

There’s the sound of more fighting, and he can hear the agents cursing. There’s what sounds like crackling ice followed by silence. Jason tries to move his head to see what’s happening, but all he sees is smoggy Gotham sky.

Then there's a face above him, ethereal in quality with glowing white hair and eyes that remind Jason of the Lazarus pit but brighter.

“What are you doing here?” The voice sounds familiar, but Jason can’t quite place why. He should know this person, but he knows he’s never seen anyone quite like this.

The kid, because now that Jason looks at him a little closer this person clearly looks young, sighs, and goes to place his hands on Jason.

Jason makes a noise of protest and tries to shift away.

“Calm down, let me see.” his hands settle on Jason’s torso.

Immediately, a cool feeling begins to spread, easing the worst of the pain.

“Who…” he manages before.

The kid gives him a strange look then focuses back on whatever he’s doing to Jason. “It’s me. Danny.” 

Jason’s mind blue screens for a moment. This looks nothing like Danny. But then, Jason looks a little closer, looks past the glow and white hair and green eyes, and he sees that the face is the same. Huh. 

“I’m going to take you back to your apartment. There’s not much I can do for your injuries in the middle of a rooftop.”

Jason can’t do anything to resist as the kid scoops him up as if Jason weighed almost nothing. Then a tingling sensation passed over him, and then they were flying.

--------------------------

A few minutes later, Nightwing arrives on an empty roof. “O, I don’t see him.”

There’s silence for a moment before she speaks. “His tracker is on the move, but it’s moving strangely. Almost as if… It’s almost as if he’s flying.”

“What?” Dick asks and then he hears a grunt from beside the building. He walks over to the edge and stares. 

There on the fire escape are three men dressed in white suits carrying strange weapons. But even stranger is that they’re all frozen in a thick layer of ice to the escape stairs, with the ice encasing them to their elbow and a thin layer over their mouths.

“I think we’ve got a bigger situation. I just found some men dressed in white suits frozen to the fire escape. And they've got some strange weapons.”

“Do you think they’re the agents after Hood’s kid?” Tim asks.

“Might be.” Dick answers.

“This might be good news.” Oracle says. “Nightwing, Hood’s tracker stopped at his apartment. I want you to head over there. Red Robin, head to the possible agent’s location. Try to figure out what you can and see if we need to call the police. I’ll send a message to B. His meeting at the watchtower should be almost over by now anyway.”

“Will do,” Dick and Tim answer.

Hopefully, they can find Jason and the kid, and this situation won’t escalate any further. But Dick has a bad feeling that things will only get more complicated.

[phantom-vs-agents]

"No, no," Grimm starts, "I am not about to take this L! You said you were interested, I swear to the fuckin'-" Grimm reaches outside the border of the screen and starts to reach down and grab various archived posts, grumbling and growling. "Where the fuck is- HERE!"

He grabs the post out from the Aether, tapping it furiously.

[prim3dsins]

@phantom-vs-agents asked: A few messages, non-stop, are sent to Amy. One is of a picture of Mach Metal, one hand behind his head and front of his head casting a shadow on. . . Something near his groinular area. Then, a text message. "[DID NOT MEAN TO SEND THAT.]" It is followed by: "[DELETE DELETE DELETE DELETE-]"

That was not what she had expected to see when she finally picked up her phone. Nor was it anything she'd expected to see after getting out of the shower. Did she hate it? Well. No, probably not. She's a little to shocked and embarrassed on his behalf to really have an opinion like that about this.

[TXT]: IT'S OKAY IT'S OKAY I AM PROMISE-

And true to her word, she was quick to begin deleting the image she'd received of him and his... Situation.

Since when could he even do that????

[mammalsofaction]

First Impressions

Yall still remember this ask?

Sorry I made this sad, nonnie. The ep made a fool of me, maybe i will write fluff instead soon. But thank you for getting me to watch the show! This is for you!

Rating: G

Relationship: Balthazar Cavendish/Vinnie Dakota, Heinz Doofenshmirtz/Perry the Platypus

Add Tags: Break up arc, SQUARED, me approaching a gay couple, so who leaves and who is the one left behind?, based on the ep First Impressions on MML S2, Count me among the ranks of MML S3 activists, ambiguous perry, ambiguous perryshmirtz, ambiguous Dakavendish, if you're able to catch the reference in one of the lines Dakota says, hi hello i know what you are, sulking at a diner talking about stupid boys who never communicate

"Well?" Dakota asks reasonably.

"Well, what?" Heinz says, once the waitress moves away after taking their orders.

Dakota looks mildly exasperated. "Your first meeting? You were just telling me about how you first met Perry right around the corner of the old ice cream parlor. How did you meet?"

Did he say that? Was that what they were talking about? He doesn't quite remember saying that, but then again he says a lot of things he doesn't quite give conscious thought to, and to be fair hardly anyone was listening. At least, he used to think so. It had different, with Perry, who's whole job had been listening (and doesn't that still leave a bitter taste in his mouth), but it had shortly led to a wealth of surprising cast of characters who continue to surprise him by how much they cared. It's a bit off putting. He doesn't know how to feel about it.

Dakota-or, Vinnie, really-he was listening. He seems like the listening type. The listening half of his duo situation, which is probably the only reason they're still getting along despite similarities in dealing with impulse decisions and general chaotic fuckery.

The question, at least, reminded him of what he constitutes as one of the sweeter, better times of his past, the milestone that changed his life. Inarguably for the better. And the memory is distant enough that it outbalances the bitterness with the sweet.

"Oh, well," Heinz starts, darting a glance right out the window where he can see-yes, there, the cheery yellow sign on the corner by the parlor. "Right there, see?" He points, and Dakota humors him by looking, though Heinz knows he doesn't see anything. No phantoms of platypus agents pass. "It was maybe, what, 5? 6 years ago? I had only just started my evil career, and it must've been more successful than I thought. I had just finished taking out my passport photo and I saw a glimpse of him, a shadow behind the mailbox. I realised I was being followed and, well. You know. I'd gotten the email about the permanent nemeses assignation the week before and I'd learn since then Perry the Platypus really did actually know how to be sneakier. I had no evil schemes for the day, just errands, and he tailed me all day. I wouldn't know his face until he actually showed up to thwart me the day after, so I suppose if you were splitting hairs we formally met the day after but. Yknow. We both disagree. That was the day I met Perry."

The happiest day of my life, he had told Peter the Panda, years before. He had taken one of his first copies of his photos from the aforementioned day and hung it up the wall to commemorate. Peter had kicked a hole straight through the nose, but Heinz had patched it up with tape and hung it back up anyway. Heinz had seen Perry hang it's frame back up carefully, whenever they've accidentally knocked it down since, and he knew the man understood it's unspoken significance. He'd liked the photo. He appreciated the sentiment.

He used to at least. Before the sinkhole. But they've had better photos since. Photos where they were together. Perry was a menace about photo memoirs, so it wasn't a total loss.

Perhaps it would've been easier if it was.

Vinnie's face twitched, as it often does whenever Murphy and Friends were reminded of his previous career. Heinz gets the feeling they never quite believe him, or they felt it was very unlike him. "God, I forget about that. He was your nemeses? I thought you said he was your partner."

"Same difference." Heinz says, as the waitress returns with their order. He took no time before doing the taste test, and while the fries is sure to lose their crispness soon enough (he can tell, more of a reason to go through them as soon as possible), their dipping sauces made it more than worth it. Vinnie indulged a bit more slowly, and when Heinz turns to look, the man looks expectant. Skeptic.

"Is it?" He asks, and Heinz, for some reason, bristles.

"It is." He insists, and before he could stop himself, he hears himself say, "He's the most important person in my life."

Vinnie's eyebrow twitches sharply, before it comes back down, and he turns to frown at the fries in thought. Heinz doesn't like the look of it, but at least it wasn't judgemental. Vinnie digs into the fries, and he doesn't look at Heinz as he asks; "How does that work? Is he your enemy, your friend...?"

"He's my nemeses." Heinz repeats himself, then shakes his head. "We fight against each other, with each other, for each other. He's my...he was my friend. He was my best friend. He was....he was my rock. He....his whole job was to stop me from, sure, taking over the tri-state area and my somewhat successful evil endeavours, but he does so many things for me, and off the clock we hung out. He picks my Vanessa up from her club activities after school and takes her shopping, and we do bowling on Thursdays. We meet each other weekly, almost daily, for the last 5 years, and he…he knows everything about me.”

He sees me, Heinz doesn't say, by some miracle. I see him.

“Vanessa,” Vinnie echoes, and points at him with a dripping fry. “Your daughter.”

“You've met her.”

He has. He and Cavendish had spotted them walking together outside the Googolplex mall last week on their weekend together, and she had been happy, excited to meet his new friends. Other evil scientists, she's said, didn't count.

This was, of course, before their—Vinnie and Cavendish—little tiff. He's not surprised he remembers; Vanessa was naturally very memorable.

“So an enemy,” Vinnie says, and it takes Heinz a moment to realize he's talking about Perry. “But an enemy of 5 years, which sort of made him…a friend?”

“Well I…,” Heinz trails off, staring thoughtfully into the nearly depleted basket of fries much like Vinnie had not two minutes ago. “I suppose so.”

The sentence felt simultaneously true even as it was…outrageously simplified. Much like how one could say that penguin was a sort of bird, but the sentence could lead into outrageous assumptions if specifications were not extrapolated on. He is my friend, Heinz wanted to say, but could he? Friends trusted each other, didn't they? Friends stuck around. Friends stayed, they were there when you needed them to be. Friends didn't need monetary incentives or manipulative moral obligations to hang out with you, and for the last couple of years, he had thought Perry had ticked all of those boxes for him, that they ticked all of those boxes for each other. Friends believed in you, and Heinz had thought Perry had believed in him.

More fool him, Heinz supposed.

“So. That's how I met Perry the Platypus. How'd you and that fussy old guy meet?” He asked, in semi-honest curiosity, but mostly to change the subject.

“Cavendish.” Vinnie corrected.

“Sure. What's your story? Was it a misfits stick together sort of story, or-?”

“Something like that. It was, god, a long time ago. In the future. A bit hard to count your ages and cycles when you travel through the time space continuem for a living, but both of us were freshly graduates from the Academy, and we were sitting in for the last stage of testing before we got offical time travel licenses, which had been a sort of driving test…,”

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Halloween prompts no 29

This one might hurt you btw

Project Bird was an attempt to create a weapon by generically engineering a child with the DNA of all three Robins in hopes he would have the best qualities of each of them.

Unfortunately the only subject they were able to produce was physically unstable due to the over-abundance of DNA and repeated tampering of his genetic code. The project was deemed a failure and all information and proof of it was to be terminated, including the child.

One guard offered to put the kid down himself but actually helped the kid fake his death. However once they were alone and outside for the first time in the childs life the kid bolted.

He lived on the streets for a few weeks, acting as the bane of candy stores and burger shops until someone nearly caught him and he fled the city. He snuck onto a greyhound bus by holding on the the end of a woman's coat while she was boarding, making the bus driver think he was hers.

Next thing he knew he was in a new city and he started all over again. This process repeated for a few months until he became interested in some weirdos in colorful outfits yelling about ghosts. He would have ignored them if not for the shiny weapons they were carrying about. Plus they seamed powerful...so of course he needed to steal them! That way he'd be able to protect himself better!

Long story short there was a portal and he left that place with the weapons, the disassembled parts to aforementioned portal, and with cool new superpowers. Yeah, he lost part of his life(?) but in his mind it was so worth it. He sets the portal up in Gotham because that place is strange enough that if something ghostly happened no one would bat an eye right? Plus his dads were here and he really wanted to meet them, even if they didn't know he was thier son.

Christmas eventually came but he wasn't cold. Not since he got used to his ice powers. He thought for a while there that he was going to go full Elsa but no, he just needed to let it out, not let it go. His own little batcave became nice and cozy. Just him. No crazy scientists, no cruel guards to mock and flick cigarette butts at him, no tubes or wires. Just the cold darkness he had always associated with safety.

Thats why the lights bothered him so much. In the labs, red and orange lights meant they were prepping the experiment rooms and that meant he was going to be in a lot of pain soon. It was no wonder he hated "Christmas lights". He also couldn't stand the smell of the pine trees people were dragging in, it reminded him of the cleaning agent they used on his cage and how it burned his skin if he touched it when it before it dried.

As much as he loved the safely of his newly dubbed "birdcage" he needed to go out and hunt for food. He Skulked through alleyways and picked pockets like a pro, the powers were so useful, even at the cost of him having to eat more. He made sure to memorize the patrol patterns of the bats and birds, which was why he was so surprised when Red Hood jumped down to him in the rich side of town while he was looking through the small army of wallets.

"I'm assuming those aren't yours."

The former experiment hissed at him, like actually hissed as he covered the goods with his body like an animal, "They are now! Go away!"

There was an embarrassingly short scuffle in which the kid lost. He didn't have the greatest control of his powers not that he would let Hood see him use them anyway, but he made sure to put dents in the mans leather jacket with his little teeth so he didn't win completely unscathed. Red Hood just seemed amused by this though and carried the kid curled up under his arm like a sack of potatoes.

Phantom (the name he chose for himself) really hoped they weren't heading for the police station. He kinda guessed those guys who made him never looked for him, but he couldn't help but to be paranoid. To avoid being taken to jail, and possibly killed, he asked the question that had been burning a hole in his head the past few weeks, "Were you a Robin?"

The way the man stiffened but didn't answer, but fortunately it became his means to escape.

Once he was back at the birdcage he began to review all his facts, he was 75% sure Nightwing was a one of his dads, 100% sure Red Robin was one and about 60% sure with Red Hood. He liked to analyze things, it calmed him down and helped him think he was more in control than he actually was. They never told him anything when he was in the labs. He loved learning new things and making friends and memories. His thought always circled back to his dads. Were they like him? Did they like learning and analyzing and talking to people? Would they want him if they knew about him?

Would they take him to a museum or teach him how to use a cell phone? Would he have to be a Robin? He didn't want to. It sounded scary and they had to fight a lot. He never admitted it out loud but he felt ashamed to be so afraid of combat seeing as that was his main purpose in life. Plus there was a new Robin who was very good at his job. Would he have to fight the new guy like a gang initiation? He hoped not, that sword reminded him too much of the scalpels. Never again.

.

.

.

His opinion changed a few months later. His body, the human half, was beginning to "degrade" whatever that meant. The clock ghost who gave him cookies didn't tell him what that really meant. Only that Phantom was dying. Phantom didn't want to die, he had only just begun to live! It hurt everywhere and it just wouldn't stop.

He made the decision to go to his dads. All he could tell them was that it hurt. It hurt so much he was crying. He never cried. Everything after that was spotty, like he was falling asleep and waking up over and over again but without ever leaving his dreams.

When he woke up again it was Spring and it didn't hurt anymore, but new challenges came soon after. His dads knew about him now and somehow knew about Project Bird too. None of them seemed happy, only sad and angry.

Were they angry he existed? Sad they had to deal with him? That must be it. Everytime he talks about the labs they look angry and he bolts off to hide under or behind something. Usually furniture.

Everytime he flinches from raised voices or sharp objects they look sad. Many times the Robin, Damian, would raise his katana almost as if suggesting something but Nightwing, Dick, would tell him no. Red Hood would argue about how they should "avenge thier son" or something. But Phantom was still alive? What was there to avenge?

One night his Grandpa was reading the newspaper while his Great Grandpa did something in the kitchen. Phantom sat there on the sofa staring at his reflection in the TV screen. He knew how to turn it on and stuff but he didn't understand how he was supposed to use it. Was he just supposed to...watch? And listen? Without interacting at all?

He only vaguely listened to two of his dads from where they were sitting in the nearby chairs bickering about what his name should be. He thought Phantom was a perfectly fine name for both his ghost and human halfs but apparently he was wrong.

His final dad, Tim came up behind him with a glass of water and asked, "What are you doing?"

Danny looked up from his own reflection towards his last dads and something clicked, "Oh, I have your eyes."

An wierd look his didn't understand crossed his fathers face and the sound of shattering glass sent him bolting up the stairs to safety. He hid under a guest rooms bed clutching some of the star shaped knives he had stolen from his uncle, because if Damian used them then they must be good.

Phantom never blamed Tim for his accidents. He was taking it way better than Dick, who was trying to be a brother instead of a father and tried to shove the father role onto Grandpa.

Jayson was the best of the three and was always willing to spend time with him. He was even teaching him how to read! He got him these cool light up shoes! He had never had shoes before! Dad even taught him how to color and was showing him how to aim a nerf gun and throw footballs and all sorts of stuff.

Tim was close behind showing him how to organize his thoughts and giving him life advise and answering all his questions. He even gave Phantom an old Wayne tech tablet of his to play on so long as he didn't mess with any of the settings.

Dick never liked being called Dad, or more specifically "one of" his dads. He overheard him talking on the phone with someone and appearently it wasn't that Phantom was his clone son that bothered him, it was the fact that he was a baby made between him and his brothers and it freaked him out. He knew he wasn't being fair and mentioned someone named Connor and how disappointed he would be if he knew.

Phantom just wishes he knew what to do to make everything better. But what can a six year old reasonably do in this situation?

[feral-bunny31]

Ok ok ok ok so I’ve been reading a few fics/prompts of Danny Phantom having to declare war on the living (he’s ghost king ofc) and I’ve had an idea slowing forming in my head with each one I’ve read and it’s just how I’d envision that scene happening and I need to get it out so here goes (putting it below the cut bc idk how much I’m going to write) how it leads up to this, your choice if you see this and decide to write more/around it. Ok here goes:

They had 13 hours left of the 3 days King Phantom, High King of the Dead, Defeater of the Dark, Son of Time, The In-between, The Balance, The All Star, had given them. 13 hours. 13. The number of the dead, ironic really that that was the amount left.

He gave them 3 days to dismantle the Ghost Investigation Ward, to release their prisoners, his people. 13 hours left and they couldn’t get them to yield their ways. To give up and break up and release the dead they had tortured. King Phantom, no older than 18, gave them a warning and they were failing. War was coming and King Phantom warned them he and his infinite army of the lost souls of this plane and the in betweens were going to march.

It was his final choice to be made in his existence. His last option. His espoir perdu. He didn’t want to do this, he hated doing this but he had to and everyone saw it as his warning was broadcasted onto every possible screen in the United States.

2 hours. They had 2 hours left and they were giving up. Trying to get as many people to safety and shelter as they could. They needed to get the civilians to hide. Gods, there was only an hour left.

And as they watched the sky above Illinois- of all places- shatter and breaks like glass they saw the King emerge as the final seconds ended.

He was stone faced, no one behind him as he stood, floating in the shattered rift of the realms, the portal green. So so green. Swirling like hypnosis. Black armor draped over his body, a sword held tight, white knuckled at his side, a crown of burning ice drifting close to his head. His face was set, cold to those that see him that don’t know him. Expression hard except for the minute furrow of his brow, seen only by those that know him, that see who he is, white hair whipping softly around his face, casting shadows over his green eyes. Oh his eyes. They were the only thing able to show what was going through his mind. They held so much.

Years of experience, of pain, of loss, of suffering and sadness. Of struggling to be heard, to fight for his people and those of this earth. To keep the peace but save what he can in this destructive world. His eyes held so much words didn’t exist to tell what all they showed.

Calmly, slowly, deathly, his sword arm rose. Rose high above his head and fell. Fell until it was straight out, a signal that the war had begun.

Thousands of souls poured out of the portal, though they spared the citizens around not a single glance. They were vaguely human, some just skeletons, some races long since extinct. They only had eyes for the buildings that were beginning to scream. The voices of their prisoners rising until every single one of the Ghost Investigation Ward’s buildings rang with the rage and hurt and pain of those souls.

The army, still pouring from the crack between realms, only targeted those buildings. Flooding the United States searching for those buildings. Men in white suits poured out of the buildings. Raising weapons to the army and unloading everything they had, uncaring of the civilians they hit and the homes and jobs they destroyed, killed.

Then they noticed it, Phantom on the front lines, defending and protecting the civilians as he tore his way through the men in white, Agents they called themselves. Giant frozen Yetis came with him, tending to the wounded he had protected. They creates shelters and barriers of ice to take the wounded and heal them. Bandage them and cover the dead with soft sheets.

The army avoided and even blocked their enemies fire from hitting those shelters, from hitting the homes and jobs as best they could while still fighting. They were angry, rage filled that the Agent cared so little about civilians, all in the name of “getting rid of those ecto scum”

King Phantom and his army fought for 3 days, wiping out any Agent and their buildings that ever existed. Freed his people and made sure they returned safely to the realm of the dead, the Infinite Realms, before he and his army slowly worked on restoring the damaged buildings of the civilians. He gave the dead proper care, tending to the souls that had come back, sending them the portal after they said goodbye to their family.

And when all was said and done, he collapsed, beaten and bloody, into the arms of a god, a being that shifted ages, a clock shoved into his chest, was his chest, and sobbed. Sobbed for all the lives taken, even of the Agents. He didn’t want this, he didn’t want this death and destruction. He wanted peace, for his people and for the living. He was Balance! Why couldn’t he have brought balance peacefully? Why couldn’t he stop this from happening? He tried! Tried so hard to keep this from being a choice. He hated that he had to make this decision.

When everything was restored the best they could and wounded were healed and dead buried, King Phantom gathered his people, entered the rift between realms, and closed it. The one vision of the sky shattering like glass reversing and piecing itself back together, and the army of souls was gone.

Ok how’d I do? Thoughts? Comments? Concerns? Please let me know! I love the feedback