#(and wasting away in armchairs when he's not around.... ANYWAY)

[thebirdandhersong]

.

#sometimes i expect mr knight to express love the same way i do and i'm not sure why ? #i'm fairly obvious about it.... or at least obvious in my own eyes...... there is a lot of cooking and listening and beaming involved #as well as letter writing and Doing Things for him #(and wasting away in armchairs when he's not around.... ANYWAY) #so if i get too caught up in that i forget to look at the big picture. i forget that he's also speaking in his own way #in his own language with his own words so to speak #like!! the man knows i get cold easily. he knows i sleep with like six blankets #he'll try to warm up my hands when we're walking #and he went to buy the thickest duvet he could find so that i would be warm at night #and asked rather anxiously how it was after the first night i used it #and one evening when we were walking home i was shivering uncontrollably #because i was silly enough to wear a dress and stockings in APRIL (here in BC) #and he took off his coat and insisted i wear it over my coat. even though HE had nothing but a short sleeved shirt underneath it #if i think too much about these little things he does it makes me want to Cry #anyway the point of this is: wow people DO express love in different ways #and part of learning about someone in any kind of relationship is learning about how this unspoken language of theirs works #the planetarium chapter #mr knight is in many ways still a mystery to me but i am slowly learning more about him every day....... it feels like a huge honour

[obm-avenquire]

Obey Me! Seven Minutes In Heaven Hell

[I’m honouring my rotten god awful roots from hell. Put up with it. I hope this gives someone whiplash. I am writing this both as a joke and with complete sincerity and i wont be explaining myself if you get it you get it if you dont then i hope youll find it entertaining anyway. I used my own deviantart for 2012 for reference for this]

✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

Another day, another party in the Devildom. 

You have no idea how any of them have energy for all this - it feels like every week someone will pull some cause for celebration out of thin air and suddenly they’ve hired a catering company and a truckload of helium balloons. Of course, Diavolo - fuelled by his unending fear of missing out and need for enrichment - enables it every time, doing everything he can to get himself and everyone else you know invited. Which is…fine, you like seeing them all. In moderation. At none noisy crowded events. Ah, well. Such is the burden of a dating sim protagonist. Slumber parties at the castle are a little less high maintenance at least.

You’re pulled from your thoughts when Asmodeus calls your name, waving you over with Demonus-flushed cheeks before dragging you away from the balcony and back into the big guest room-turned-common-room-sleeping-area. You definitely think there’s a better way to phrase that, but you barely have time to think when Asmo is pushing you to sit down in the collective circle (his strength always surprises you, and he’s maybe just a little too tipsy to regulate it properly), pressing a kiss on your cheeks before running off to herd together the rest of the group.

You look around the circle, giving Satan an affirming but vague nod that he returns with an equally innocuous smile, which you accept as you always do and go back to your usual little headcount. Belphegor was dozing on the sofa, threatening to sprawl over Satan (who was ‘gently’ repositioning him whenever necessary), Mephistopholes (who had invited himself) was preaching his very special gospel to Beelzebub at the snack table while Asmodeus did whatever he could to wrangle the younger away because his plate was basically just a tower of snacks at this point and he could always get more later so if he would just pleeeeaaaaasssee-

You stop paying attention, instead giving Simeon and Raphael a little wave as they walk in.

“Welcome back,” You shuffle over slightly to make space for the two of them, Simeon sitting down next to you as Raphael decides to stand rigidly slightly off to the side just a little behind the sofa, and just…stay there. Well, whatever makes him comfortable, you guess. “Did Luke arrive safe?”

“He did, thankfully,” Simeon smiles, tucking his phone into the pockets of his trousers, “I can’t believe Serun broke all their bones and had to be hospitalised again. I feel awful not being able to visit, but, well…” He sighs, shrugging, “He wanted to go himself, and insisted he could manage, so…You know how he i-”

“What? I only came because I was promised melon cake!” You’re not sure where Thirteen popped up from, but she’s already on the armchair in the corner, kicking her legs over the armrests as she rolls her eyes. “What a waste of time.”

“Oh! Well, he still finished that, actually, so-” There’s a distinctive arcane shink sound that cuts Simeon off mid sentence. “Now, Raphael, put the spear away, you can’t do that here-” Ever the stickler for manners, it seems. Oh well. Not your problem. 

“Hey, so I’ve been meaning to ask.” Thirteen raises her eyebrows at your voice, pupils knife-like and theatrically bitchy in the dim candlelight.  “Why are you covered in soot.” 

“Well,” She scoffs, clicking her tongue, “Since someone-” She glares at Solomon from across the room, who smiles very nicely and innocently through his conversation with Barbatos- “Decided to ‘dismantle’-” She does incredibly heavy and repeated air quotes with her fingers, “My special little bomb boy it exploded all wrong!”

“I understand completely. I’m sorry someone would ever do something so awful to you, you don’t deserve that even slightly.” She snorts, balling up the tissue she was using to wipe the ashes off her forearm and throws it at your head. It disintegrates in midair before so much as making contact, and you squint over in the sorcerer's direction. He’s not even looking your way, and Barbatos whispers something you can’t make out to him as Thirteen groans and throws up her hands in frustration, sliding into what must be an incredibly uncomfortable position. It doesn’t seem to bother her, though, and she picks at her nails grumpily. Oh well!

“-Stop complainin’ already, would it really kill ya to join in?” Mammon is doing everything in his power to pull Levi through the door by the collar of his coat, but the younger seems to be trying to retract his own head into his shirt like a turtle to try and get out of it. 

“You’re killing me you’re the worst and I hate youandIhopeeverythingbadeverhappenstoyoua-” 

“Yeah yeah whatever. Shut up and sit.” Mammon slings his arm over Levi’s shoulder, dragging him down into the circle just as Lucifer and Diavolo finally come back from whatever it was they were getting done. 

“Lucifer, don’t make that face!” Diavolo nudges his bestest of friends, who looks particularly miserable, even as Barbartos silently refills his glass before they all, too, sit to join, the prince and his right hand man on the final empty sofa, the butler instead choosing to kneel neatly a little off to the side from Mammon and Levi. Satan adeptly shoves Belphegor upwards at just the right timing for Beelzebub to sit down (his twin slumps right back into his shoulder). Mephistopholes complains that there isn’t a proper place to sit til Mammon trips him and he ungracefully tries to pass it off as deciding to sit on the floor as Thirteen barks a sharp laugh at him.

A pleasant hum of conversation settles through the room, Asmodeus stumbling into hugging Solomon, whispering something between the invocation trio that you can’t quite make out before spinning around and clapping his hands together (cutely. It’s important to emphasise that he did this so so cutely) to get everyone’s attention.

“E---veryone!!!” He waits a few seconds for silence, shooting a glare at whoever dares to continue in the wake of this very very important announcement. “It’s time for a very special game! Have we all heard of 7 minutes in heaven?” He bounces on the tips of his feet in excitement despite the lukewarm reception. “Okay well that’s a mostly no then I guess-  Honestly! I know it’s a human world thing, but really?” He pouts, and you note that Diavolo’s visible excitement has increased exponentially already. 

“Allow me to explain,” Solomon cuts in, confirming your suspicion that he’d been somehow roped into this. “Two or more participants are selected - in our case by drawing lots - to go into a closet or equivalent and do whatever they like for 7 minutes.” Everyone seems a lot more attentive, suddenly. “Ah, of course, we’ll be taking magic precautions to make sure that there’s no cheating, and certainly no one breaking into the closet before time is up,” He grins, clearly enjoying this already. 

“The heck.” Mammon grumbles, oddly fidgety all of a sudden, “There ain’t even a closet in here,” Leviathan nods aggressively. He’s sweating. 

“Hm? Oh! That won’t be a problem, haha! Barbatos was kind enough to offer to help out with that,” The aforementioned butler steps aside to reveal a simple wooden door on the wall that decidedly hadn’t been there earlier. “We even made sure it was sound-proofed! You know, just in case.”

“What a curious game! Shall we start right away?” Diavolo beams, inadvertently cutting off Mephistopholes, who’d just opened his mouth to no doubt complain that this sort of juvenile and inappropriate game had no place at a gathering with the Devildom’s one and only prince. 

“Yes!! Everyone write your name on a piece of paper, okay?” Asmo begins handing out paper and pens to everyone, shushing any complaining he meets. “You don’t have to play! It just means you’re boring and no fun and that you’ll never get a chance like this again.” 

Better write your name, then. You’d hate to miss out. 

You watch as Barbatos collects everyone’s paper slips, dropping them into a glass bowl and shaking periodically to shuffle them well. You immediately lose track of yours, so you figure that it’s worked.  After what feels like a slightly inordinate amount of time, everyone seems to have put their name in the bowl - sure, some were more…begrudging or in need of convincing than others, but that’s normal! Anyways-

“Oooo I’ve been waiting for this all evening!” Asmodeus grabs the bowl, tap-tap-tapping along the rim for effect, perfectly manicured nails making a pleasant ASMR-esque tink noise. “Right, first u-”

“Uhm, how do- how do we know you’re, uh, not rigging this?” Asmo whips his head around to stare open-mouthed at Levi.

“Excuse me? I would never-”

“Mm, there’s no guarantee though, is there?” Asmodeus pouts at Satan, grumbling something about being personally offended and making sure to snitch next time Satan asks him for a favour.

“Fine! Since I’m so untrustworthy and awful-” The smile is switched back on as he saunters over to you, swishing the bowl around carefully before holding it out to you. “Why don’t you pick? No one will complain then, right?” 

The silence in the room means yes, presumably.

“Go on hun! Don’t be nervous-” He winks, and your mouth quirks into a smile to humour him, carefully reaching into the bowl for two slips of paper, pulling them out and carefully unfolding them to reveal-

✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

[As is tradition, I'll be uploading the individual 'endings' as I write them :) I'll be putting a poll up on my account for who to write first (within reason, I don't think tumblr will let me put up enough options to cover everyone) so feel free to suggest people in the replies/tags too!! there will be no luke option becuz i dont know how to put hardware destroying malware in clickable links yet sory :( feel free to simulate the experience urself tho!!]

#sorry about the excessive tags orz #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me fanfic #obey me lucifer #obey me x reader #obey me x you #obey me mammon #obey me x mc #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me barbatos #obey me belphegor #obey me diavolo #obey me raphael #obey me simeon #obey me solomon #obey me thirteen #obey me mephistopholes #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #avens7mih #avenwrites

[thesweetnessofspring]

Catching Fire wish fulfillment. Katniss is fed up with getting no affection from Peeta during training; she finds a way to get close to him anyway. Rated T.

It started with Peeta throwing away Haymitch's liquor and the shock that he didn't move to comfort me with his arms or lips. Nothing from him, who before had been so attentive when I needed someone to protect me from nightmares or a hand to hold.

After a few days Haymitch and I agree to join Peeta in his training, yet he doesn't smile and hug me at my decision. He doesn't even give me a high-five. Instead, he starts laying out his fitness plans for the three of us, written out on paper and handed to me the long way with no chance for our fingers to brush. In the evening as we review the games, the first night I sit next to him on the couch, hoping he might lean back and put an arm around me, but he leans forward and takes copious notes in small, neat handwriting. From then on, he sits in the armchair.

The final straw is when I stumble in a run, tweaking my ankle around, and he doesn't even touch me then. My ankle is still weak and I'm not sure if I re-injured it. He kneels down by me, asking me questions about what happened and how bad it feels, then he says he'll get my mother to check it and to wait where I am. My mother says it's fine and helps me up to walk it off, but I'm pissed at Peeta for not being the one to help me. Before he would have carried me to her, or at least helped me up himself.

If we only have a few months left together, I don't want to waste one moment of it.

This morning while Peeta tasks me to work on crunches, he's pushing an angry, red-faced Haymitch to do five full push-ups, but Haymitch can barely get out two.

"Come on, Haymitch!" Peeta shouts at him. "It's five push-ups!"

"Shut up, boy." Haymitch stands and wipes his hands on his sweatpants.

"It's only twenty-two other tributes we have to face!" Peeta yells and makes jabbing gestures toward the ground with his pointer finger. "Do the fucking push-ups!"

"He can't do them," I snap at Peeta and sit up fully from my ab exercises. "Move on."

"Move on? You think the Careers will just move on if it comes to hand-to-hand combat?" Peeta asks. "You're the ones who told me physical strength is an asset in the arena last year, so start working on it and taking this thing seriously!"

"You're the only one not leaving his comfort zone here Peeta," I say. "Our entire regime just looks like what you had to do for wrestling. You're not out here losing breath and puking like Haymitch, you don't know what it's like."

Peeta considers this, taken aback. "Fine. You're right. Right now I can do 100 push-ups at once. I'll give you 125. If I do, Haymitch, you're following the damn regime."

"I don't have to do a damn thing," Haymitch says, sitting down on his front porch step.

But Peeta's in the push-up position and he starts to piston them out like it's nothing. He counts under his breath, the numbers climbing higher and he hardly slows down. Around 75 they become a bit more measured, but still consistent. They hardly slow at 100 and I'm mad again, because obviously Peeta undersold how much he can actually do.

And so, I get up and when his arms straighten at 104, I lay across his back. My head rests between his shoulders blades and I hang on by looping my arms around his, my hands on his pecs. My left leg dangles a little awkwardly off of his thigh as his prosthetic doesn't give me much to hold to.

"Katniss...what are...you doing?" he asks, pausing for the first time and struggling to get the words out.

"Making it fair," I say. My cheek is damp with his sweat, and I feel it seeping through my clothes along the rest of my body.

"How is this—?"

"You're not even trembling yet," I say. "You undersold how many you can do. Now you have to finish the next 21 with me on top of you."

Haymitch starts laughing and Peeta gives a frustrated grunt, but keeps going, this time much slower. I savor the heat from him, the swell of hard muscles under my hands, and even the smell of him. This is a position I'd never found myself in with Peeta before, and I make note of how he feels against me, from his broad shoulders to his thick thighs. Everything around me is simply Peeta.

He's so solid and strong, carrying me on his back despite how he now quivers ever so slightly with the strain of the previous hundred push-ups and now my added weight. Yet I know he'll make the 125 push-ups, because when Peeta makes his mind up about something, there's no way he's not achieving it.

Which is why I fear that I'll be the one making it out of the arena without him this year.

I squeeze onto Peeta tighter. He shakes through the last few push-ups and I wish he'd keep going so that I could stay close to him just a little bit longer. And he indulges me with one more push-up. 126.

His arms straighten and then he lowers to the ground one last time, and I have no reason to be so close to him still. I force myself to peel away from his body, which for the past year, has meant my protection.

"There you go," Peeta pants as he rolls over onto his back, stomach moving up and down rapidly. "Now do all your damn push-ups."

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #thg fanfiction #wrote 1300 for my wip and rewarded myself by writing this little thing that's been in my head for a few weeks #katniss wants kisses

[hazzybat]

Thanks for coming Mr Jordan

okay so remember this idea by @cinder-rose of Nace having certain exciting dreams about Jan? well I wrote a little intro and then kinda wrote chapter 1 I guess? maybe I'll make it into more but for now have this! (casual 1000+ words lol)

this is 18+ btw as it involves porn dreams

Nace relaxed on the couch, his shirt off and warmth enveloping him. He was seeing Jan over the holidays but he couldn't remember which holidays they were. The house was large, full of impossible rooms and the largest, softest couch Nace could imagine. Then Jan was sprawled out next to him, his body warm flush against his own. His arm was loose around his neck and his lips were so close to Nace's. He felt a pang of guilt. He had a girlfriend who was.... he didn't know where she was. But Jan was so inviting and soft, his chest hair rough against his own flushed skin. Those beautiful lips whispered out "Thanks for coming Mr Jordan" before they pressed themselves to Nace's. Jan was everywhere. He was hot and perfect and he ground their hips together and Nace could think of nothing but how amazing it felt. Jan's hand snaked down his pants and right as he held his cock and began to stroke him Nace woke up. He wondered for a moment why his bed was so empty, his sheets tangled around his hips and drool on his cheek. Then his mind caught up and he groaned angrily. He was now single. His girlfriend had split with him a week ago, a mutual decision that still broke his heart. They hadn't been good for a while, drifting further and further apart until he hardly felt he knew the woman in front of him. Her side of the bed was cold. His mind replayed the dream and he groaned again. Why had it been Jan? Sure he was close to Jan but why did his sleep filled mind decide to put the man in his sex dreams? Even in his dream he’d felt guilty for kissing him. His hand trailed down his body until it found his very erect cock, precum already leaking from the tip. There was no point in wasting a perfectly good boner he mused. Maybe once he got off he could clear his head. He brought up his favourite porn, choosing to look at the amateur threesome from some time in the 90s rather than dwell on dream-Jan's perfect fingers and lips and body.

The video did the trick, the two men touching and feeling the woman before they made out with each other over her, the low quality footage allowing him to imagine their faces however he wanted and the moans a perfect mix of deep masculine need and high feminine want. He came easily and for a moment allowed himself to remember Jan's deep raspy words, "Thanks for coming Mr Jordan" It was just a dream. He needed a shower and a coffee, his mind already sweeping away the details like cobwebs. It didn't mean anything anyway. ‐--------- "Thank you for coming Mr Jordan" Jan said from the couch when Nace walked into the studio. The statement sent a pulse of pleasure straight to his dick and his brain short circuited. Did Jan know somehow? Could he read minds? Could he see the blush that was steadily covering Nace's cheeks? What the fuck was going on? Jan was sitting in one of the armchairs, his laptop open on the coffee table in front of him. He had a black tie slung around his neck and a black blazer on top with no shirt to speak of. A pair of Nace spare glasses were perched atop his nose. Looking closer it was actually one of Nace's blazers he'd stolen as well. "Nice glasses, where'd you get them?" Nace asked in at attempt at humour, something to bring a sense of normality back to this very strange day. Jan didn't answer, instead he leaned back in the chair, pulling the blazer back to show off a nipple, which he began to stroke with a lazy finger. "I'm so glad you're here Mr Jordan, I've been going through your accounts and I'm afraid the numbers are all wrong" Jan was overacting, his voice exaggerated and breathy asthe hand as his nipple began to kneed at his non existent breasts. His other hand took off the glasses and bit down on the arm of it seductively, looking at Nace with dark eyes. Nace was thoroughly confused but his cock was enjoying the terrible acting a bit too much, twitching at every breathy moan Jan gave between words. Had he actually woken up this morning? Was he still in his strange porn dream?

"I think I can fix the numbers, but only if you do me a big, long, hard favour," Jan continued, rising from the couch and sauntering over to where Nace was still frozen to the spot. This was hell, Nace had died and this was his punishment for staring a bit to long at Jan's fingers when he played. Or maybe it was heaven with the way Jan looked at him, glasses still in fingers, the end in his mouth and tongue dancing over it obscenely. Jan reached him and wrapped his arms around Nace's neck. His hand instinctively found Jan's hips. His brain finally kicked into gear when he managed to ask "what the fuck is happening?" "We got 2 minutes boys!" Jure cheered from his spot behind the door, walking into the room with his phone, using it as a stopwatch and proudly displaying the time to the others. Bojan followed close behind, handing over a note to Jure and grumbling to Kris about "why couldn't he wait another 20 seconds". Jan hadn't moved from his arms and Nace was still thoroughly confused. Jan took pity on him and explained "Bojan found the tie and your spare glasses and somehow we ended up with the idea of a bad porn intro. Sorry you ended up our leading lady but we wanted to see how long it would take you to question things." Jan was grinning along with the others as he fished around in his wallet and handed Jure a note alongside Bojan's. Kris tutted at Nace as if disappointed, also handing over a note to the drummer who was gleefully counting his winnings. Nace was bright red. They were going to be the death of him he knew it. He reluctantly dropped his hands from Jan’s waist and tried to laugh along with the others. This was going to be a very long day.

#janace #jance #still dunno what's the more common version we use #ficlette #i have other dreams in mind for later on #also i had a nace dream last night so that gave me the push to actually write this lol #in that dream i felt guilty cause it was me and not jan he was kissing so uuuuuuh yeah #nace jordan #jan peteh #enjoy whatever this is

[admrlthundrbolt]

Evil Walks (Poltergeist Esidisi x Chubby Reader)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After receiving a house from your mysterious late uncle. You move in and strange things begin to happen. Making you realize there may have been a reason that your uncle was so estranged.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hey guys, I'm back at it again. This is another installment of my Pillar Men series. It once again got more out of hand than I expected. But I still like the way it turned out. Also I left a hint at what the final story will be.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy.

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

You had always thought the long lost relative leaving you a house was just a punchline. But when it happens to you, we'll you can only hope it's not a joke. Having recently graduated from college. It was wonderful to have one part of your future figured out. If only you knew just how oblivious you had been.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Esidisi had enjoyed his time with Robert. The older man was always a riot to mess with. Not to mention his devotion to the supernatural was what brought him to the house in the first place. When the man passed, he couldn't help but expect him to also become a ghost. You could assume something like that after years dealing with the paranormal. Some of it had to rub off on the bachelor. However, luck didn't seem to be on either of their sides. What was a poltergeist to do with all this free time.

Then you showed up. You had this energy to you. It was similar to your uncle, but had an alluring pull to it. Though that wasn't the only thing that had him following you like a lost puppy. Your sweet personality and luscious figure was almost more than he could handle. It was like the gods themselves made you. Not that that had stopped him from playing pranks on you.

First was moving things. He would make it obvious. Your chapstick would find it's way out of your bag and onto the coffee table. That spoon you could have sworn you put in the sink. Was now in the same place you had picked it up from. Shrugging you seemed to write it off as forgetfulness.

Next was the odd noises. The creek of a stair when you were the only one in the house. A wind whistling through, even if all the windows were closed. Not to mention the occasional deep voice that would echo into the night. But you took it all in stride. Going as far to answer his ghoulish howls. You were to pure for this world.

He was close to revealing himself to you. If not for the shock, then so you would only acknowledge him. That was until he showed up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were browsing through the library. It was your favorite place in the old house. You could waste away the day in a place like this. It had literature across every surface. A suprising amount of it happened to be on the supernatural. An overstuffed armchair was situated in one corner. Along with an ornate reading lamp and a side table with many mug rings littering the surface.

It was a place that made you wish you had spent more time with your uncle. There was a time when you were young and he would come around. But memories of those moments always seemed fuzzy. Still the library sang an alluring siren's song of knowledge that you couldn't resist.

He couldn't help but praise your uncle for having this room. He was never one for reading. Watching how it made your eyes light up and the smile it brought to your angelic face. It was enough to make tears well in his eyes. This was your special getaway, so he kept his pranks away from this area. If only to enjoy your tittering and comfort a moment longer.

A knock rang out, startling the both of you. You hadn't been expecting anyone. Cautiously making your way to the front door, your face bloomed in happy surprise. Swiftly opening the door, you smiled at the young blonde man. “Ceasar, what are you doing here?”

He sent a dazzling grin your way and stepped towards you. Sweeping you up into a tight hug. “How could I stay away from a bellissimo woman such as yourself. Also it just so happens that I had some family that lives close by. So it was a win win as you say.” He kept a hand on your lower back and said. “Now why not give me a tour of this wonderful place you've inherited.”

“Sure, I can't wait to show you everything. My uncle even has a private library. Can you believe how amazing that is.” You rambled about the splendor of the home you now owned.

All the while a pouting poltergeist followed the pair. It was one thing for a guest to come by unannounced. But to put his hands on you and act so familiar. It was enough to send him into a sobbing rage. No matter, all he would have to do is plot against this Ceasar. And if there was one thing he would NOT allow is for the other man to step foot in the library. It was a room of great importance. For it's former and current owner, it held many great and secret things. To allow it to be snooped through by the wrong person would be disastrous.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As the visits became more and more frequent, he knew that he needed to intervene. It started with items that the blonde would convently trip over. A cord here or a shoe there. Either way they would only appear in the man's path, never yours.

Turning up the temperature had only backfired for the aberration. The blonde didn't seem phased in the slightest. While you on the other hand slipped out of your sweatshirt. Leaving you in a tank top for both men to ogle away at your deliciously plush body. If it had been him alone, he would have enjoyed his fill of the glorious sight of you. But having the pleasure shared rubbed him the wrong way. So the temperature suddenly dipped and you layered up.

When that didn't cause enough of a problem. The lights would malfunction in any room he happened to be alone in. From flickering sporadically, to turning off completely. Only to be fine when he called you over to see the problem. Still the man kept returning.

The ghost finally saw a crack in his mask. When a sudden breeze caused a door to slam in his pretty face. He cursed loudly and excused himself to the bathroom. The specter followed, wanting to reveal in his victory. But the sight of the man's reflection halted any celebration. The unmistakable features of an incubus showed in the mirror. The long horns, pointed ears, and large wing tucked against his body. His crimson eyes glared at the his own reflection, before shifting over to Esidisi. “You know this won't stop my pursuit of her.”

His eyes narrowed at the hell spawn. “Do you think she'd feel the same after finding out what you truly are?”

The blonde was quick to click his tongue at the response. “And how would she feel about sharing a house with a specter? I'm sure she would love to know just how little privacy this house holds.” His tone had become venomous.

What little color the afterlife allow covered his cheeks. “I have never encroached on her private moments. Unlike a horn dog like you, I'm sure.”

He snarled at the accusation. “I have never laid an unconsensual finger on her. I wouldn't need to with the energy she exudes anyways. We have held a strictly platonic relationship.” He frowned at the confession.

A smirk settled on the ghost expression. “Much to your disappointment, I assume.”

This caused the incubus to glare at the mirror once more. Answering the other man's query without words. Leaving the room swiftly, he only wished a ghost could properly have a door slammed in it's face.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He had decided it was time, he desperately needed to reveal his presence. If not to get your attention, than to let you know the danger you were in. Steeling his nerves, he glided into the library. It seemed the most appropriate place to show himself to you. He couldn't recall just how long he had admire you in the space. It was time to return the favor.

Settling across from you, as you reclined in the overstuffed armchair. He shifted into a more corporeal form. He expected a gasp or scream even. But you had yet to look away from your book. Making his way towards you. He placed his hand on the pages and lowered it to your lap. He braced for your reaction once again. But was shocked when you only blinked up at him.

Mouth parting delicately, you said. “So he wasn't insane.” Shooting up from your seat, you dash over to a nearby bookcase. Rummaging through the different volumes you begin to ramble. “So his journals weren't fiction. But that means….” You trailed off and faced the ghost once more. “That means I'm not insane.” Rushing back to him, you took his hand into your own. Shaking it enthusiastically, you beamed up at him.

He looked just as your uncle had described him. Fluffy white hair, x shaped mark on his face, and tanned muscled body. Though as a faint flush took over your face, from excitement or embarrassment, you weren't sure. You couldn't help the way your eyes sweeped over him. He was quite the sight, living or otherwise. “I'm (Y/N), but I'm sure you know that. And you're Esidisi, my uncle wrote all about you.”

This was as much of a shock as you not being bother by him. “About me?” He gave you a quizzical look as his brows furrowed together.

Gripping his hand in your own. You thought back on the fondness your uncle wrote about the poltergeist. It seemed his friendship was something he could always look forward to coming home to. “Oh yes. About your pensions for pranks and harassing unwanted guest.”

This caused him to come out of his content daydream of spending the day conversing away. There was threat looming over you that he wouldn't stand for. “You mustn't spend anymore time with Ceasar. He is out to devour you.”

You fully flushed as far as your ears at that admission. “What makes you say that?”

Your blushing confused face was a pleasant sight. But he had only a moment to savor it. “He is an Incubus. You are not safe around the likes of a creature such as him. He seems to have his sights set on you. And intends to follow you to the ends of the earth to ensnare you.”

Shaking your head you frowned. “But that doesn't make sense. We met in college and he always had a partner. From what I can tell he isn't interested in me romantically.”

He wanted to shake you. Who wouldn't be interested in you. Between you soft pliable body, kindness, and curious nature. Well it was nigh impossible to not want to pursue you. Besides he had seen how the two of you interacted when alone. The blonde would all but fall over himself to fulfill any request you made. “If you will not believe me. Then their must be something in Speedwagon's journal about identifying them.”

You fidgeted under his gaze. It hurt to not take his word for it. You had read so much about him in the journals that it felt like you were already friends. But you were friends with Ceasar and had been for years. Still as you glanced up at the behemoth of a ghost you felt a pull of familiarity. “OK, I'll do some research. But I want you to cool it on the harassing him until I get something a bit more solid.”

He placed a hand to his chest and bowed. “I swear it.” But the mischievous smirk on his handsome face made you think otherwise.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next few days were hectic. Between balancing life and Research, you saw supernatural creatures everytime your eyes closed. From an interesting tale of a human warrior and a dragon. The government allowing Werewolves to live in National Parks. To the story of a Gorgon taking in strays. It was a lot to take in after being told that this world was only a fairytale. But you persevered and found every bit of information you could on Incubus.

Esidsi watched over you tirelessly, at least for a ghost that is. He would bring you warm drinks to keep your spirits up. Always remind you when it was time to take a meal break. It made him regret not revealing himself sooner. To think of the time you could have spent together. He especially loved the quirk you had developed of reading out loud for him. It was nice that you would include him in your research. No matter, you were spending time together now.

“Why not catch his reflection in a mirror?” He thought it would be the simplest solution.

Shaking your head, your eyes stayed on the pages in front of you. “No, he was caught once that way. I'm sure he'd do his best to avoid the same mistake.” You felt guilt talking about your friend this way. But the more you learned about the nightmare creatures, the more you believed he could be one.

He rubbed his chin in thought. “Holy water then. It is sure to bring out his demonic side.”

This caused you to glare at the man. “Also no. I refuse to hurt him. Even if he is a supernatural being. He hasn't harmed me in any way. So I will extend the same courtesy to him.” Fed up with the book in your hands, you reached for another.

Racking his brain for a new suggestion, he frowned. He could see the weight of the situation was baring down on you. Cringing at the same thought that he had been avoiding, he sighed. “You could use your charm to wring the answer from him.”

You were quick to shoot that idea down. “That isn't an option. For one neither of us are interested.” The ghost wanted to scoff at the suggestion that Ceasar wasn't into you. “Not to mention creating a romantic bond with a sexual demon can result in a sort of contract. It would create more problems than solutions.”

Silence fell over the room as you both ran out of options. That was until an intriguing line caught your eye. “Here's something new, listen to this. ‘When an Incubus bathes in moonlight his glamor melts away. Only to fall into a lovers arms in his true form.’ Does that mean moonlight strips them of their disguse?” Looking at him quizzically you only receive a shrug in return. “Now that I think about it, I'm not sure I've ever seen him at night. He usually heads home before the sun sets. This could work.” Darting for the kitchen, a bewildered spirit follows close behind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Setting the kettle in the sink, your heart was filled with a heaviness. It was hard knowing there was a chance a close friend was using you. You wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. But the fatigue when he would leave and never coming around at night. They weren't proving his innocents. You had to be sure though. So you prepare for his eminent arrival.

He watched you flit around the kitchen. Torn between your guilt of not trusting a friend and want you to know the truth. Your safety was his top priority. If not from your uncle's request, than his growing fondness for you.

A knock came from the front door. The two of you glance at each other. Your concerned expression shifted to a smile and you nodded. If not to reassure the ghost than perhaps yourself. Heading towards the door, you noticed him vanish into thin air.

Inviting the blonde in you made your way to the kitchen. “Come on, I made some cookies yesterday and want your opinion.” While you had baked them yesterday, it was only in preparation for today.

“Sounds good.” He followed right behind you, he loved your cooking. He also missed your company, though he understood when you had conflicting schedules. He could feel himself drawn to you like a lost ship to a lighthouse. Something about you was unnervingly alluring. Still that didn't stop his eyes from wandering, looking for an unwanted spirit.

Gesturing to the plate of cookies on the dinning table, you head across the room. “I'll put on some tea. I have a blend that should really compliment the flavor of the cookies.” Turning on the tap, you glanced over your shoulder. He was to preoccupied with the treats to notice that the kettle wasn't under the stream of water. Bringing it over to the stove, you turn on the burner. Then set about preparing the tea and cups.

A pang of guilt surged over you as your gaze met his own. But you had to only remind yourself of what could happen if you didn't prove what he was. One small test to settle your nerves. Even if he wasn't an incubus, there was a chance he could be something else. For goodness sake you were living with a ghost. What your uncle's journals contained had opened your eyes to many possibilities. So a close friend being a Demon right under your nose shouldn't be that surprising.

So lost in your thoughts, you almost jumped as the kettle whistled. Quickly pulling it from the stove top, you took a deep breath. Putting together the drinks, you brought them to the table and sat. Sipping from the cup, you waited in anticipation for his first gulp. It came and there was no change to his appearance. Which made your heart sink in an unexpected way. You never expected for yourself to be disappointed in a negative result. But it may have to do with the way that Esidisi deflated in the corner of your vision.

Suddenly a hand came into veiw. “Are you even listening (Y/N)? I swear it seems like you're looking right through me today.” He pouted at the accusation.

Shaking the thought away, that now seemed ridiculous, you shook your head. “Im sorry, I just have a lot on my mind right now.”

He nodded, but his expression was a bit suspicious. “I understand. Are you still job hunting? I've had some troubles with it myself.” He took another sip from his glass.

Movement caught your eye. Worried it would be the poltergeist attempting to throttle the blonde. You were surprised at what it actually was. Two horns started to materialize on his head. Another sip and his ears began to elongate. As he finished of the cup of tea his true form had revealed itself. Your eyes widened in shock.

Noticing the change in your expression, he paused. “What, is there something on my face?” Bringing a hand up to smooth across his face. He was taken aback at the long nails that had appeared on his fingers. Darting a hand to his head, he felt the all to familiar hardness of horns. Mouth falling open, he rushed to explain. “You shouldn't be seeing me this way. This was supposed to happen differently.” He stepped towards you.

Jumping from your seat, you backed into the kitchen. “I wasn't supposed to know. When then? With you were hovering over my sleeping body then?”

His face pinched in anger. “No, I would never do that to you. The time just never seemed right. Please (Y/N).” He brushed a hand against your plush cheek.

Striking his hand from away, you glared. “We've known each other for years Ceasar. Why wouldn't you trust me with something like this?” Tears began gathering in your eyes. You weren't sure if they were from frustration at his lies or your naivety.

Coming closer to you, a sudden look of rage came over his expression. The weight of a warm hand fell on your shoulder. “That isn't the only lie you've told tonight. Weren't you the one that admitted how her delicious body just radiated energy.”

His words rang in your head. The sleepless nights and lack of motivation after Ceasar's visits. Finally the pieces clicked in place. You were only an object to him. Though you had become much more knowledgeable since your last visit. Sliding a hand into your pocket, you glared at the man you had once considered a friend. “You know, I wasn't sure that the tea made with moon water would work. Your disguse was no match for it though. But it wasn't the only thing I found in my research.” Throwing the handful of salt in his furious face, you said. “I banish you from this home.”

Like a whirlwind he surged out of the nearest open window screeching. Darting over you shut and locked it. Placing a line of salt along the sill.

Turning to the ghost, you leapt and wrapped your arms around his shoulders. “That was exhilarating!”

Wrapping his arms around you, he savored the feeling of you against him. “You did well little one. But will you not miss him.” He knew the wound was fresh. Still he had to know what your feelings were.

Dropping your arms you looked at him in ernest. “If I was only a source of food for him. Then it was time that I cut him out of my life. Would I have thought it would end like that.” You shrugged and let out a heavy sigh.

He stared at you for a moment. Noticing how much you had grown into the world of the supernatural. A sly smile slipped onto his face. “You know, your uncle left you a bit more than you were told of in his will. Though he did leave it up to me as your protector to decide if you were ready. It seems he was right about you all along.” He paused for a beat, he always was a sucker for tension. “Do you think you are prepared for another adventure?”

Smiling at up him, you said. “Well, that all depends. Will I be allowed to bring along a certain specter?”

Caressing a hand down your arm, he intertwined his fingers with your own. “I don't think that will be an issue.”

#jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo no kimyou na bouken #chubby reader #esidisi #chubby reader x esidisi #poltergeist #poltergeist esidsi #speedowagon chubby reader #ceasar zeppeli #alternate universe #ghosts #supernatural #demons #incubus #inheritance #pining #mutual attraction #onesided attraction #banishment #reasearch #wicca

[yuriko-mukami]

His Possession Ecstasy 09

Beta reader: @ruki-mukami-dl

A couple of days passed, yet nothing new happened. No one had come for Komori Yui, and Yuriko was growing more worried. Maybe Nalia’s contact couldn’t have done anything. Yuriko had tried to talk to Ruki about the situation but kept saying the Mukamis were only doing as the Vampire king wished.

And how could Yuriko say anything to that? She could simply hope that her excursion would eventually help.

Then came a day when the rain finally ceased a little. Yuriko gazed out of the window to the forest, captivated by its greenery and quietness. As she stared into the distance, her eyelids started to slide down, lower, and lower, blurring her surroundings more and more, until the forest disappeared from her…

…yet another appeared in front of Yuriko’s eyes. She gaped as she noticed how tall the trees were, reaching for the sky above her. She knew this place! This forest! Yuriko hurried through the woods, dashing over the stones and mushrooms. As always, the place was dark and gloomy. Only the stars sparkled in the sky but there wasn’t even a promise of the moon. She didn’t mind but spurted her way to the familiar cliff. “Yuuto!” “It took you forever to fall asleep.” Yuuto turned around, swaying his blue-tipped tails. Yuriko slowed her pace, pushing her paws against the leaf-covered soil. Panting, she gazed at her brother. “It’s in the middle of the day…” “Kinda hard to notice here.” “Umh… well… yes…” Now, that Yuuto mentioned it, this dream forest seemed always to have nighttime.  “Never mind that tho. I wanna tell you somethin’... The village chiefs are meetin’ with someone important today. They’ll be away for three of your days at least, I think. So… if you have learned…” Yuriko jumped, her tail swaying back and forth. This was perfect! “I have! I can turn into a fox now… I mean, for real! And… and… I could go to search for the gate!” Her heart was bouncing, making her ears drum. Finally, she could meet her brother in reality. They could talk, they could do things together, have a life together. And they could save Mother too. Yuuto shifted as he had been uncomfortable. The amber-yellow gaze turned dimmer even though he should have been as excited as Yuriko. “Just open the gate, gotcha? You ain’t doin’ anythin’ else. You open the gate, I’m gonna take care of the rest. And then we’re gonna ditch the place.” “But… but… how do you even know that I have opened the gate?” Yuriko tilted her head to the side. It might be that she would have to wait for a long time for Yuuto and their mother to appear if she wasn’t allowed to walk through the gate. “I’ll wait near to it.” “With Mom? Is that safe?” Yuuto frowned and let out a frustrated growl. “Just do your part and lemme focus on mine. Now, hurry back. The geezers might be away but we ain’t got time to waste.” Something invisible pressed against Yuriko, pushing her further away from Yuuto. Never before had this happened but the forest slipped away from her faster than she managed to say goodbye. 

Yuriko flinched, almost falling from her chair. Blinking, she yawned and tried to understand where she was. Right! In the library of the Mukami manor! 

And the time had come!

“Ruki!” Yuriko turned around.

Ruki lifted his face from the book he had been reading, frowning slightly. “If this is about Eve again…”

“Umh… no. I want to go to look for the gate. I think I’m ready now.” Yuriko would worry about the girl after she would have sorted out her own problems for it seemed Eve wasn’t in imminent danger. Yuma was simply keeping her here. But Yuuto and Yuriko’s mother… Yuriko swallowed. 

“Are you sure?” Ruki rose from the armchair and closed the distance between him and Yuriko. The slight anxiety lingered in the air around him, but Yuriko kept a brave face. She wouldn’t back down now. “We would have to go alone. Kou is at work and Yuma is occupied. Even Azusa is busy today.”

“I’m sure it’s fine. I… I don’t want to bother them anyway…” Yuriko shifted, averting her gaze. She was causing so much trouble.

“Look at me.” Ruki took Yuriko’s chin and lifted her face. She blinked, turning her gaze up into the storm of his eyes. “You are not causing trouble, for you are part of this family and we support each other.” Sighing, Ruki glided his thumb over Yuriko’s cheek. “I guess it will take time for you to see that.”

Yuriko placed her hand on Ruki’s. He was right. It was so difficult to squeeze into her head that the Mukamis weren’t bothered because of her since her parents had always made it clear that anything she asked was extra trouble. Well… her mother hadn’t said so… but she had been so tired all the time that Yuriko had felt bad about asking anything from her. Now, Ruki was stating the exact opposite, and it felt so wrong to simply take it. But then again, Yuriko would not want to offend him by turning him down either.

“But if you truly wish to go now, then we should do it.” Ruki glanced out. “Weather is a bit better today. Let us go.”

Taking Yuriko’s hand, Ruki pulled her with him downstairs and finally out of the manor. They walked to the forest, letting the greeny shadows settle upon them while they roamed forward. Everything was damp from the rain and the air smelled rich even to Yuriko’s human nose. But she could also sense how the more heated season was lurking closer, soon the unbearable hotness of summer would hit them, and she could only dream of cooler days.

“You should transform now. We are not getting anywhere by simply walking around…” Ruki looked around. “Your mother’s diary did not give us too many details but the information about the shrine was helpful. I have a hunch of the direction now.” Ruki’s gaze returned to Yuriko. He leaned in, pecking her lips. “But we need your special skills for this.”

Yuriko nodded. She was ready. She would save her family and then she would head for a brighter future. Today would be the day that would change everything.

Yuriko’s tiny feet started to get tired, but she kept walking, sniffing around the best she could. At first, it had been difficult to distinguish the different smells from each other but as they roamed deeper in the woods with Ruki it became easier. And then she caught the scent she had been looking for all along.

The Kitsune.

The fragrance was like Yuriko’s own, like the one she had smelled on Yuuto in the dream world. Yet, it was different too. Yuriko couldn’t properly explain the difference, but it was there, and it was clear for her. Whoever had made their path through these parts of the woods hadn’t been her brother but someone else.

Hurrying again, Yuriko pressed her snout into the ground and followed the trail. She heard Ruki coming right behind her as she meandered through the undergrowth. Her face got all wet, but she didn’t mind because the scent was growing more intense with every step she took.

Then suddenly, Yuriko rushed past the tree line. She lifted her head and let the sight sink in. All the stones were covered by moss, making them almost melt together with the forest. If there had been wooden buildings, they were long gone but Yuriko could see a huge torii gate that led into the area. Between pillars and fox statues, bamboo trees stood out and grass covered the edges of each stone of the path that traveled deeper in.

The air was tense as Yuriko breathed in. She stepped forward, intending to enter the shrine through the torii gate but, to her surprise, she found herself back in front of it in the second she walked in. Pressing her ears against her head, she growled and backed down only to dart forward…

…and she stumbled on Ruki’s legs.

“Good grief…” Ruki crouched down, patting Yuriko’s head. “Did you hurt yourself?”

Hastily, Yuriko shook her head and swayed her tail.

“Perhaps you should turn back into your human form now. It seems we have found a very special portal.” Ruki said, straightening up. He took a couple of steps, stopping right in front of the gate and reaching his hand forward. “Peculiar… I can almost feel the resistance. But perhaps it is better that I do not try to walk through it. Even if it did not hurt you, for all we know it could react badly to a Vampire.”

Ruki groaned and looked back at Yuriko. “You should not have darted towards it like that either. Do not do such silly stunts anymore. Is that clear?”

Yuriko nodded, closing her eyes. She focused on feeling the human in her, calling that out now. Slowly, she felt how her body started to morph again. Unfortunately, it didn’t push away the slight ache from her muscles. 

When Yuriko was ready, she opened her eyes again. Ruki pulled her into his embrace, stroking her hair and catching her lips into a soft, yet deep smooch that sent shivers down her spine. 

“Are you sure you are ready, my angel?” Ruki’s question vibrated against Yuriko’s mouth. She sucked his bottom lip between hers, giving it a little pluck, and sighed.

“As ready as I can become.” Yuriko lifted her hand, brushing Ruki’s cheek briefly. “And with you… I can do anything.”

Again, Yuriko gazed at the gate. It was right there. Her way into the realms of the Kitsune, into the place where she originated. Her mother’s childhood home. It had been carefully hidden here probably longer than Yuriko could really understand. By the look of it, the shrine was ancient and had been forgotten for who knew how long.

So, the Kitsune blood would open the gate. It was clear it wasn’t enough that the said blood pumped in Yuriko’s veins since she hadn’t been able to just jump through. Perhaps that meant that the blood needed to be spilled.

Raising her hand, Yuriko glided her sleeve toward her elbow. There were still bruises around her wrist where Laito had bitten her and then Ruki covered that mark with his own. “Umh…”

“We should try something smaller.” Ruki slid Yuriko’s sleeve back down and took her hand. He lifted it, kissing her fingertips. “I would prefer not to waste any of your sweet blood, for it also belongs to me and to me only. But because this is important to you, I am willing to let you use it for this matter. Still, let us not be wasteful. Perhaps a mere drop will do the trick.”

With that, Ruki pressed his fang on the tip of Yuriko’s index finger. She yelped as her skin broke even though the pain was only minimal. A crimson dot appeared where the fang had touched, making Ruki inhale deeply. Yet, this time, he didn’t lick over it. Instead, he guided Yuriko closer to the gate and pressed her hand into the air between the pillars.

The view in front of the couple began to wave. Yuriko stared as the shrine disappeared and the forest continued on the other side of the torii gate.

“Let us proceed…” Ruki whispered. Before Yuriko had time to tell him that Yuuto had asked her only to open the gate, Ruki already held her by her wrist, pushing their hands through the gate first. As there wasn’t any resistance anymore, he led them to the other side. When Yuriko peeked over her shoulder, she could still see the small clearance in front of the abandoned shrine and the shadows of the cloudy day, but on this side of the gate, it was night. The trees were tall, covering the sky and darkness lurked everywhere.

“I can’t believe we are here…” Yuriko whispered, still a bit shaken that against her promises they had already walked in. But since Yuriko wasn’t alone, it should be okay. With Ruki, nothing bad could happen to her, right?

“This is the Demon World.” Ruki frowned next to Yuriko. “I have not been in this section of the realm ever before, but without a doubt, this is part of Karlheinz-sama’s lands. Yet he has not mentioned any Kitsune living here.” He was silent for a moment, gazing around as if taking in their surroundings. “Still, I can smell them. Their scent is similar to yours but much thicker. I assume there is a dwelling area nearby.”

So, this was it. Now, Yuriko needed to find her brother but… how?

"Yuriko…" Ruki let out a growl and pushed Yuriko behind him at the same moment when the scent hit her nose. Footsteps came from their side. Yuriko placed her hand on Ruki’s shoulder and peeked as he turned to face the potential threat.

A young muscular man walked toward them. His hair was shoulder length, tied to a low ponytail… and strikingly similar color to Yuriko’s. Amber-yellow eyes glared at them.

"Not a step closer." Ruki lifted his hand as if fearing that Yuriko could dart from behind him.

#yuriko's story #yuriko tsukino #ruki mukami

[aerodaltonimperial]

Hi so if you are still up for additional scenes

I need the 6 of them checking in on each other in there own ways or just feeling the need to know where the other 5 are at all times because they then know no corpse doctors have them

Reluctant friends bonded by trauma please

(LITERALLY ALWAYS UP FOR ADDITIONAL SCENES)

Hook gives up on trying to sleep after about ten minutes. Nothing about the hotel bed is comfortable, and the air conditioning unit is too loud. He tosses and turns on the flat pillows that even punching won't hep to fluff before he sighs and surrenders, turning the television back on. At this time of night, there isn't much on besides 90s movies and infomercials, but the sound helps fill the dead space.

Hook stares at the colors dancing across the flatscreen until there's a knock at his door.

He thinks about not answering. No one should be outside his room at this hour—no one he wants to let in, anyway. But something prods at his legs, propelling him towards the sound. He peers through the peephole to see platinum blonde hair falling out from beneath a black baseball cap.

It's surprise, really, that makes him open it, because he's never seen Julia without her make-up and with something so innocuous as that cap on.

"Hook," she says, by way of greeting. Then she offers nothing else. Truth is, she doesn't need to; Hook gets it. He cracks the door wider and nods within, relieved when she doesn't argue and slips in quietly.

"You look terrible," she tells him, once he's shut the door again, and he's starting to understand this bluntness of hers, this sharpness. It doesn't really contain the edge he always thought it does. She's merely stating the truth, because Hook is well aware of how rough he looks.

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Thanks. Something happen?"

"Nothing new." She glances at the armchair in the corner. "Do you mind...?"

"No." He's oddly glad for the company. As Julia sits, there's another rap against the door. This time, Hook isn't surprised when he opens it to find Anna on the other side. She's in her pajamas, hugging her torso like she's desperate for the warmth.

She doesn't say anything, just grimaces, like she hadn't even meant to show up there, like her feet somehow carried her through the hotel halls on their own. Hook gets that, too. She must know he isn't going to turn her away. Honestly, she looks even more raw than Hook does when he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror: dark circles around her eyes like bruises.

Anna appears to relax somewhat when she gets into the room and spies Julia already on the other side.

Hook doesn't bother to close the door after her. He waits with his fingers curled around the edge until the last two show up, together.

"Hey," Jack says.

"Last ones," Hook tells him.

Jack shrugs. "Somebody had to be convinced to leave his room."

"Whatever." Darby sighs.

"Get in, so I can lock the door," Hook says, and doesn't waste any time in latching the deadbolt after the two of them slip inside. It feels better with the others there—more secure, steadier. Hook doesn't have to pretend to be okay, or put on his normal mask around them, and it's been such a long time since he's found people like that. He hates that the reason is such a dark coil in his stomach.

"Wanna watch something?" Jack asks, like the TV isn't already on.

"Something funny," Anna says.

Jack narrows his eyes at her. It almost looks as though he thinks about reaching for her face, an old habit that's been slow to dissipate. "Trouble sleeping?"

"Can't," Anna replies. Her arms tighten around her chest.

"At all?" he asks.

When she shakes her head, Darby reaches into the pocket of his oversized coat, that dumb thing he wears around all the time that dwarfs him and reminds Hook of the Army surplus store. He holds out a yellow prescription pill bottle.

Anna takes it, gingerly, reading the label. "Pain meds?"

"Pain meds that will make you sleep," Darby says.

She grimaces, but pops open the cap. "Thanks."

"You can get comfortable," Hook says, gesturing to the bed. It's a king—he'd have to splay out like a starfish to even get close to the other side. And it speaks volumes that Anna doesn't even hesitate after throwing the pill back and swallowing it dry. She has to be exhausted. As she pulls the blankets up around her, Julia scoots her chair closer to the side until the air presses up against the mattress.

Darby settles onto the floor at the foot of the bed. "Shoulder hurts when I lay flat."

Jack catches Hook's gaze. There's too much there for Hook to properly identify. "Okay."

He sits next to Darby, and once Hook returns to his side of the bed, all he can see is the bits of Jack's hair that have caught on the edge of the comforter. Then they sit in silence, watching the television. It's one of those obnoxious teen movies; maybe it's funny, but Hook hasn't laughed in awhile, so he can't be sure.

"I know this is a dumb question," Jack starts, "but is everyone...okay?"

"You're right, that was dumb," Darby says.

"Really regretting ripping that arrow out of your shoulder."

Hook dims the lights. From the side of the bed, Julia offers, "I haven't felt anything nearby."

"Anything like...creepy nightmares trying to murder us?" Hook asks.

Even in the low lighting, Hook can see her roll her eyes a little. "Yes, Hook, no creepy nightmares trying to murder us."

"That's good, right?" Jack asks.

"It's better than the alternative," she replies.

Hook blinks a few times. His eyes are tired enough to have gone bone-dry. "You said these things were contained."

"I did."

"So who is containing them? And is there a way to...contact them?"

Julia is quiet for longer than Hook would like before she answers. "There are always ways to contact them."

It's the tone of her voice that gets him—he's starting to put the pieces together. Julia knows more about things than she should, and alerting the anonymous authorities of the entities that had tried to kill them would also alert whoever they are about her.

"We don't have to," Hook tries. It's lame even as the words leave his mouth, but oh well.

"Someone will eventually find those things...right?" Jack says.

"Maybe." Julia sounds dubious.

Another stretch of quiet. Anna's breathing has evened out on the other side of the bed, and Hook's glad. Maybe she'll finally get some much-needed rest.

"We should probably just stick together," Darby says, very, very quietly. "Just in case."

Hook wonders how much that suggestion cost him.

"Yeah," Jack agrees.

It's the last any of them talk again before Hook's eyes flutter closed, and sleep claims him.

++

He wakes a few hours later, chest heaving and blood shrieking. Another nightmare, another sting of fear behind him in the woods. Another laugh from the doctor hellbent on tearing the darkness out of Hook's heart with his wires and tubes. Hook grabs for his hair just to feel something real, yanks at it until the pain laces across his skull. Then he waits as the panic recedes. Somehow, his violent reaction didn't wake any of the others. Anna is still asleep, her breathing deep and regular; on the chair, Julia has slumped over so her head pillows on Anna's arm, the cap pushed off her head and onto the floor.

Hook slinks out of bed and goes to fetch the spare blankets from the coat closet as quietly as he can. He puts one over Julia's shoulders. Darby and Jack are still at the foot of the bed, necks in the most uncomfortable position back onto the mattress possible, the sort of thing they'll regret tomorrow, but when Hook approaches with the last blanket, Jack blinks at him a bit.

Hook puts a finger to his mouth, and Jack nods. One of his hands has tangled with Darby's at some point; he doesn't remove it, just reaches out with his other for the other blanket.

Hook turns the television off, plunging the room black. Then he slides back into the bed.

He'll probably wake up in another hour or two, and just hopes he manages to avoid waking up the others a second time.

But as he settles into the pillow once more, a hand slides over his cheek. The touch is warm and solid—gentle.

"Sleep, Hook," comes the whisper against his temple, and Hook complies.

He has no more nightmares that night.

#OJKJAKSJFDKAJFJAKFJDKSJA i am so attached #tag so you don't lose this shit

[ordon-shield]

Febuwhump Day 11 (Fever): The Boy Without a Family

ao3 link here

Link woke up on the morning of the second day he’d spent in Termina for the fifth time with a sore throat. Pulling himself up from the sofa he’d been sleeping on, he shook off a sudden bout of dizziness. He had no time to be feeling unwell. In the last loop, he’d finally managed to figure out how to get up to Snowhead Temple, but with only half a day left, he’d chosen to wait for the next one to actually tackle it. The day before he’d managed to get through a good bit of the temple, before having to stop and take a break, leaving him hopeful that he’d manage to finish it off the next day.

After using the Song of Soaring to return to Clock Town, he’d remembered the robbery he’d been told about by the old woman at the bomb shop in a previous loop. Rushing up to North Clock Town, he’d managed to get there not long before the thief had approached her, and as thanks, she offered to let him stay at the shop once he mentioned not having anywhere to sleep. That wasn’t exactly true, but he didn’t think she’d react well to him telling her he’d planned to sleep on the bench by the laundry pool in the south of the town.

He went to thank her again, only to wince as she fretted over him, checking his temperature with her hand and declaring him sick. He didn’t have time to be sick with a Giant to free, and anyway, he actually felt colder than usual, shivering despite the warmth of the shop, so maybe she just got it wrong. Assuring her that he was alright, he headed out and over to North Clock Town, wanting to get out of sight before using the Song of Soaring, the time it took to explain it to anyone who saw him too long for him to waste.

Stepping up to the gate, he expected to just walk through like usual, only for the guard to stand in his way. He glared up at the armoured man.

“I have a sword you know.”

The guard frowned down at him, concern visible in his eyes, even shadowed as they were by his helmet.

“Look kid, a sword might mean you can usually defend yourself, but you’re clearly not well. If it’s really urgent, we can send someone out to get whatever you need, or find someone heading the same direction, alright?”

Link groaned in frustration. He needed to get back to Snowhead, the more he was delayed, the longer it would take to free the Giant there, and if this kept up, he’d have to start the cycle all over again, his progress wasted. Even worse, he felt a headache coming on. Stomping away from the guard, he considered finding a quiet corner to play his ocarina and warp to the mountains.

He didn’t get far before he heard the sound of metal clanking behind him, as the guard jogged to catch up to him.

“W-wait a second kid!”

Link ignored him.

“Do you even have a place to stay? Or someone looking after you?”

Link froze.

“I don’t need help from anyone!”

Panting and clutching his chest, the guard slid to a halt in front of him.

“I can’t in good conscience leave you alone like this!”

Link opened his mouth to tell the over-eager guard exactly what he thought of him, only to be overcome with a fit of coughing. Giving up, he decided to go along with the now-recovered guard. Maybe a shop around town had a potion he didn’t know about that could help him feel better, good enough to take on the temple. He knew he couldn’t do it like this, not when a single mistake could lead to his death.

He let the guard lead him through the streets, ending up somewhere unexpected— a smallish building in South Castle Town, with a plaque on the door proclaiming it the guard barracks of the town. The moment he stepped in, he found himself persuaded into a comfortable armchair by a dimming fire, the guard who brought him there throwing on some more firewood before heading over to the other guard in the room, presumably to explain.

Link couldn’t deny it, he was pretty comfortable, if a bit warm now. Gazing into the slowly rising fire sleepily, he caught a few words of the conversation the guards were having, some of which made him frown a bit. Sure, he didn’t have family but he was perfectly capable of handling himself, so he didn’t need one. He was used to sleeping rough as well, though he supposed people like them who’d likely never left their town probably wouldn’t understand that.

At some point as he dozed off, he felt someone tuck a blanket over his body, and managed to mumble a thanks. The guard was nice enough, he supposed. It was a pity that the next time he played the Song of Time and set back time all of this would be forgotten. Maybe it was worth it if it meant they’d all survive in the end, but some selfish part of him wished he could just stay here, comfortable and warm and cared for.

@febuwhump

#legend of zelda #loz #the legend of zelda #majora’s mask #majoras mask #loz majoras mask #Febuwhump #febuwhump 2023 #loz whump #Zelda whump #my writing

[kayforpay]

Silly ass prompt. What's better than two weiners? FOUR WEINERS!

"So it's a quirk, then?" Shouta looks unimpressed, which is normal, but slightly more unimpressed than usual. Hizashi shifts, realizing that their couch really wasn't made for three people to sit on. "How long does it last? Are you split into... emotional states?"

Hizashi, the original one, shrugs. "No clue, honestly. And I think it's just... Copies? They don't seem to talk or anything, they just kind of, I don't know. They do that I think at them to do?" He looks to his left, at the other two of himself, who are staring blankly into space. Spooky. "I know it's really creepy, but I didn't want to just leave them outside somewhere."

Shouta is sitting in his armchair, legs crossed, and he looks at the clock. "You reported it already, didn't you? Even if it's a kid's quirk, they need to learn to control it to keep this from happening. It seems too strong to risk." It has been, by Hizashi's rough estimation, at least four hours since he got knocked over by a teenager and found himself multiplied. Apparently, the kid was in a support course with another school.

"I reported it right away! I was on patrol anyway, but now I can't go to the radio station. I don't want to freak anyone out." He shifts again, and the other two versions of himself scoot slightly down. "I'm lucky I had enough civilian clothes for all three of us, or it would have caused an even bigger scene."

About ten seconds pass in silence, and Hizashi starts to wonder if the other versions of himself even need to breathe before Shouta sighs and stands up. As he walks past the side of the couch Hizashi is sitting on, he pulls his hair out of the lazy bun he had it in when they got home, and stretches.

"I'm guessing you didn't take a shower? Your hair is crunchy." He's smiling, at least, so that's a bonus. "If they're gonna be around, I don't want them wearing your dirty clothes. Come on."

It takes Hizashi a moment to consider the offer, and then he's walking into the bathroom, followed by his clones, all of them leaving a trail of clothing as they go. Shouta is crouching by the heat dial, carefully adjusting the temperature in his boxers, and it's only then that Hizashi wonders why Shouta is joining him at all. He probably took a shower as soon as he got off patrol.

"Uh, babe, I can get myself clean, if you want? I don't want you to get weirded out. Or tired of my face." He chuckles, watching raptly as Shouta strips his boxers, and then delicately removes his prosthetic. Like always, Hizashi moves it out of the room, so the steam doesn't get to it.

Shouta sits on the stool. "If I was going to get sick of your face, I would have been sick years ago, Hizashi. Come here." He waves a hand, and Hizashi comes where he's beckoned, still flushed that Shouta was... Well, somewhat sweet, right?

Shockingly, Before Hizashi can sit on a washcloth between his legs, Shouta pulls him into a kiss, his hands spread over Hizashi's chest. His tongue presses against the corner of Hizashi's lips when he pulls back to speak.

"Sho, what're you doing?" He paused, letting Shouta shove his tongue into his mouth, and knelt on the cloth instead. "Not that I'm complaining, but--"

He waves at the copies, which he swore hadn't blinked since before they came into the bath.

The water was hot when it hit the back of his head, and he yelped. "I'm not wasting having tomorrow off just because you got hit with a quirk." His hands work through Hizashi's hair, melting the gel with practiced movements and the specialty shampoo Hizashi uses.

"Should I send them out?"

Shouta's eye narrows slightly. "They need a shower, too."

He can't really argue with that, even though he would be just as happy keeping them stood by the door until he has to go somewhere and keep track of them, so he just takes the showerhead to rinse his hair. Shouta's hands go back to his chest, massaging his skin and pulling at Hizashi's nipples with his thumbs.

Hair and soap stream down Hizashi's face, and he jumps when Shouta wraps a hand around his cock, stroking it lazily, and he jumps again when Shouta leans in to bite his ear. "Can they touch me, Zashi?" His breath is hot, even compared to the water.

It should be uncomfortable how easy it is to control the copies, to have them walk over and wrap their arms around Shouta. One kisses him, and the other slides under his arm to mouth at his chest, and Hizashi pushes his hair out of his face in time to see Shouta's cock twitch, to see him swallow back a moan at the hands on him.

Zashi kneels lower, until he can press his face into the dark hair around the base of Shouta's cock, and gets the copies to support him leaning back. The Hizashi at Shouta's chest trails sloppy kisses lower, and the one kissing him moves to nibble at his neck. Shouta breathes a little harder as he's pulled to lean against the Hizashi at his back, and digs his nails into that one's arm as the other two meet at his prick.

They lick around the shaft, red eyes half-lidded, and Zashi glances up at Shouta to meet his eye before pulling himself into a slow kiss. Shouta groans, and bucks his hips almost hard enough to fall off the stool when they go back to licking around his cock. The Hizashi behind him holds him up, settling into a seated position behind him, and spreads his legs wider.

Hizashi and Zashi crawl forward, one sucking his cock while the other takes advantage of the angle to drag his tongue over his hole. While Zashi's busy, Hizashi's own hard cock (who even knew they could do that?!) presses against his thigh, and he wraps a hand around it. If only the sensations were shared, Zashi thinks.

"Hey, Sho." He sits up, his mouth wet, and makes the Hizashi sucking Shouta off sit up. "Wanna see me suck my own dick?"

Shouta is silent, his eye so wide he seems nervous, and Zashi is about to apologize. "Yeah, but I'm probably gonna come." His lips curl into a frown, and the Hizashi behind him slides a hand down to stroke his cock.

Zashi closes his eyes as he takes the Hizashi into his mouth, humming softly. It's a little awkward, but no more than any other time he'd sucked someone off for Shouta to watch; honestly, this is the most excited Shouta has ever seemed to watch it. Usually it's more for Zashi than anything.

The Hizashi behind Shouta presses two fingers into Shouta, tentative, but Shouta is clearly somewhat prepared, because he just groans to do more. The Hizashi in front of Zashi himself tangles his hands into Zashi's hair, pulling his hair to move him. It's a little less fun than when someone is actually testing the amount he can take, actually being rough, but Shouta is squirming before long, his foot slipping against the slick tile as he tries to push against the fingers inside him and the hand around him.

Pulling back with a sharp gasp, Zashi has Hizashi slap the head of his cock against his tongue, and Shouta grunts, his jaw tense, as he comes, white spilling over the Hizashi's knuckles. Zashi moves in to kiss him, and Shouta whimpers, pulling him closer with sharp nails in his back.

"Fuck me. I w-- I want you in me. All of you." The flush on his face deepens, but he wraps his knee around Zashi's waist to drag him in anyway. "You look so good with your hair down."

Even without the compliment, Zashi's nodding, kissing Shouta again as he presses against the knuckles at the edge of his hole. "Can you take it, Sho?" Zashi isn't under any delusions that he's got a massive dick, but it also isn't like they really do a lot of stuff with Shouta taking anything bigger; the last time they had Sekijiro over, Zashi had been the one taking him, and Shouta had done his best to play into the fantasy, looking detached and giving directions.

"Yeah. Come on." He looks over Zashi's shoulder, and waves to the Hizashi standing behind him. "Bring him here?"

Shouta takes Hizashi's cock into his mouth as soon as he can, and Zashi presses into his hole with a groan, letting his head lean against the other Hizashi's shoulder once he's inside. Shouta is pretty well prepared, considering how little attention Zashi has been able to give to him, but he's still not going to rush into it. They rarely get days off together, anyway.

Hizashi starts to fuck Shouta's mouth, in the way he usually likes, short thrusts that force his throat open and make him struggle not to gag. Zashi grinds against him, watching as his flagging erection returns to fullness at the attention. The Hizashi behind Shouta pinches his nipple, and reaches to the wall nook with the other shower supplies. He grabs the lube, and reaches between Zashi and Shouta to pour some over Zashi's cock before he fucks back into him.

He pours more of the lube onto his own cock, and between them they lift Shouta almost completely to get his cock lined up. Shouta pulls off of Hizashi's cock with a gasp, and presses his face against Hizashi's thigh while the one behind him presses in. Zashi's hips twitch when they're both seated inside him, the pressure surprisingly good, and Shouta moans aloud, mouth pressing to the base of Hizashi's cock.

Despite his best attempts to muffle himself, Shouta's moans still leak out while Zashi moves, fucking him as slowly as he can stand to. He sucks little marks into Shouta's skin, and has the Hizashi behind him stroke his cock.

Surprisingly, the first one to come is the Hizashi over Shouta, who yanks his head back almost too hard to cum over his face, panting. Zashi marvels at how Shouta finds his o-face attractive while Shouta moans, shaking between him and the other Hizashi. His hole twitches, and Zashi speeds up, pushing Shouta's legs up to get between them more.

When Shouta lets his head hang limply against the other Hizashi's shoulder, Hizashi moves to lick the cum off his cheeks, moaning in Zashi's voice, and Shouta whimpers. His knees tighten, almost like he's trying to push Zashi away, and he jerks, hard enough for Zashi to slip out of him as he comes again, more cum dripping down his shaft and his voice echoing off the tiled walls.

Zashi doesn't give him a moment, pressing himself back in immediately while he kisses Hizashi. They move in tandem, for the most part, while Shouta's legs curl almost to his chest from the stimulation. He breathes little encouragements between kisses, telling Zashi to go faster, that he's doing well.

The Hizashi behind Shouta holds his legs up to his chest while Zashi moves, moaning softly each time he thrusts in. Shouta wraps a hand around the back of Zashi's neck, pulling him in to kiss him, and Zashi comes with an almost too-loud moan, hips jerking and thighs slipping against the Hizashi clone's legs.

The Hizashi behind Shouta lets his legs down, and Zashi realizes when he pulls back that the Hizashi must have also finished, from the mess spilling out of Shouta's hole. He doesn't move far, more concerned with kissing Shouta a little more than really examining how much cum is coming out of him (though he does consider it something worth thinking about later).

After a few minutes, and Zashi's knees starting to really ache from the tile, Shouta yells, thudding to the floor as smoke fills the small room. "What?!"

Zashi leans back and fans the smoke out of his eyes. "Oh. I guess that's how we get rid of them." The room feels weirdly empty, now, and he stumbles over himself picking Shouta up off the floor.

"You said a teen is the one who has this quirk?" Shouta asks, picking up the forgotten showerhead and rinsing the sweat off himself. "I guess we should probably report this, too."

Hizashi glues himself to Shouta's back, snuggling against his neck. "I don't know. Do we? It's a little awkward, isn't it?"

#thnks fr th qstns #anon and on and on and on #erasermic #bnha #drabbles #shouta aizawa #hizashi yamada #nsft #yeah its exactly what u think it is. lol.

[baenful]

shots & polaroids / @unlawfulera​

she stood at the door for what felt like hours.  it was definitely less than a minute. while fumbling in her bag for her keys, she took longer than she needed, hoping that she’d be in her new friends line of sight until the taxi eventually pulled away. though she refused to look back for one last glance. maybe she was nervous that they wouldn’t be looking back or maybe she wanted to give off the appearance she wasn't thinking about her already.. either way, she mustered every ounce of willpower she had to not turn to make eye contact one last time.

after she heard the engine pick up and the tires skid away, she finally unlocked her door and pushed in through the entrance. luckily she lived alone, so any clamorous jostling wouldn’t be met with an awkward conversation at the breakfast table. 

she ambled up the stairs dragging her bag behind her. finally making it to her bedroom door, she stopped, forehead pressed against the cool wood frame. she eventually pushed through, slumping her bag onto the floor, before doing so with her body onto her bed, she let out a deep sigh, not realizing she had been holding her breath since she had gotten home, this made her aware of how drunk she really was. the combination of the alcohol and the lack of breathing caused the room to spin around her. she giggled. it was a nice feeling. it wasn’t long before she couldn’t hold her eyes open.

the sunlight cut through her curtains and stained the walls. her phone started blaring. it was her third alarm. she’d clearly slept through the first two. she slapped at the device, trying to get it to stop,  her eyes still closed. she knew that as soon as she stepped foot outside her bed, she’d have to acknowledge the day. winston lay sprawled out on the armchair, the light that casted on her walls, painted itself over his fur. oh he’s so cute, i should take a picture. she stood slowly from her bed, slinking towards her bag, being careful not to wake him. she hunted through it. but it wasn’t where she thought it was. panic started to set in. where was her camera? did she leave it at the party? theo grabbed her phone, scuttling down the stairs in hopes she would see it on the kitchen countertop, maybe she had set it down on the dining room table as she ambled upstairs when she got home last night. but to no avail. she unlocked her phone, calling her friend who had invited her to the party in the first place. her friend hadn’t seen it around but said she could pop around anyway to look for it just in case.

"I can't find it anywhere..." theo stared at her, hoping she would somehow solve the problem immediately. "I don't know what to tell you teddy.. other than retrace your steps?" she's rolled her eyes at the host, theo sat on the couch, closing her eyes, trying to remember the previous night. "did you end up making it into town?" her friend called out from the kitchen "the park! you're a genius" theo wasted no time, picking up her bag, she sprints down the road.

#v3 / shots & polaroids #threads.

[sylphidine]

[NDU] Deal The Cards

“I can’t believe it’s SNOWING on Halloween,” complained Emily Sickle-Black as she lay on her back on the rug in the middle of the living room.  “It’s all Sera’s fault.  It’s got to be.”

Seraphina Pitchiner shot back from her perch on the window seat with “Hey, what did I do?”

“I don’t know, but I’m sure it was one of those ‘if a butterfly flaps its wings and causes a hurricane halfway around the world’ things you’re always talking about.”

“Uncle Piki, tell Emily to stop teasing me.”

"Dad, make Sera stop causing natural disasters."

From where the two men sat together on the loveseat, Jack held his hands up in surrender and replied lightly, “Who am I to question such a mighty force of nature as my niece?”, while Piki dutifully parried with “Darling daughter, please stop teasing your cousin, lest we all find arachnids in our sheets.  Again.”

“That was only one time!” Sera protested.

“Ugh. Once was bad enough,” Emily muttered.

Sera saw motion outside the bay window and got up, tossing a rejoinder over her shoulder as she opened the outer door. “It’s too cold outside for spiders, anyway.”

Thank God, Piki mouthed to Jack behind Sera’s back and over Emily’s head.

Her father and Pitch stamped snow off their feet, first on the front porch’s doormat, then again inside in the foyer.

“Bless whichever of you did the shoveling, but I’m afraid it was a wasted effort,”  Pitch said as he hung up his black peacoat and came into the living room. He claimed a seat in the oversized armchair, not coincidentally the seat nearest the radiator, and continued, “We’re bound to get another foot of snow before morning. This storm is supposed to rival the Snowpocalypse of 2011. I doubt that we’ll see a single trick-or-treater.”

Coz chuckled at that as he hung up his own coat. “More candy for us, then. And since I made sure to stock up at Tony Chocolonely’s on Pitch’s and my last trip to California, you can all indulge in fair trade chocolate without feeling guilty. Nothing too good for my birthday boy. And for my birthday brother-in-law,” he hastened to add, with an arched eyebrow at Piki. 

“Good save, Coz.” Jack stretched and stood up. “I think we should get our birthday husbands some solid food before we stuff them full of sugar.”  He headed into the kitchen behind Coz, and both girls followed them, sniffing the scents of good Italian cooking appreciatively.  

The Black brothers gave significant looks to one another across the room. 

“Cossimo would celebrate your birthday each and every day, if he could,” Piki commented. “Oh, let him have this,” Pitch replied. “I didn’t make it easy for him all those years ago when I wouldn’t let him fuss over me.”  

“True. And it’s not like I was any better with Jack back then, although for vastly different reasons.”

“I can concede that you’ve definitely improved in that regard.  The old Piki would never let Jack out of his sight.The old Piki would be hovering in the kitchen doorway gazing daggers at Coz for the effrontery of breathing in the same air as his precious Jack.”

Piki made a face, but didn’t bother to deny the truth of his brother’s words. He replied, “Hmmmm.  If you and I were to get up and hover in that doorway now, do you think we’d get pressed into service setting out silverware?”

“Nonsense. We’re the birthday guests. They wouldn’t dare put us to work.” Pitch leaned forward and grinned fiendishly at his twin.  “But if we are very quiet and they don’t spot us, we may get a chance to sneak a nibble of the dessert that Coz is planning to surprise us with.” “How old are you, anyway? Five?” Piki scoffed half-heartedly, but his eyes twinkled.

.”That was great, Dad,” Seraphina said as she got up to help Emily clear away dinner plates, while her father and her uncle brought in the dessert dishes.

Assorted voices around the dining room table agreed with her. 

The snowstorm outside seemed to be intensifying, if the sound of the wind picking up was any guide.

The bulbs in the overhead light fixture dimmed and flickered twice, before going out completely. The flameless pumpkin-shaped “candles” decorating the table gave some illumination, but not much.

“Uh oh, looks like my advance planning is gonna pay off,” Coz commented. “Everybody stay where they are, and I’ll get the camping lanterns.”

“They’re in the china hutch,” Pitch said drily. “You’re not the only one in this house who’s got a modicum of foresight.”

“Thank you, dear.” 

In a few minutes numerous light sources let the six in the dining room see enough to eat their tiramisu.  Sera had found more battery-operated candles to put on the sideboard, to go with the glow from the two lanterns at either end of the table.

After everyone finished dessert and had brought their plates to the pantry, Jack stated the obvious. “Well, the spooky movie marathon will have to be put on hold, until the power comes back on.”

“How dreadful,” drawled Piki. “We might have to revive the art of conversation.”

“Oh Papa, don’t be mean,” chided Emily. “I know!  How about a card game? Uncle Coz? Uncle Pitch? Hmmmm?”

“As long as it’s not UNO,” Pitch replied.

“Six players rather limits us to something in the rummy family,” Piki pointed out.

 “Honey, dig out three decks of cards.  It feels like a canasta night!” Coz rubbed his hands and grinned.

“Already on it, Dad,” Seraphina grinned back at him.

They split into two teams of three… Jack, Pitch, and Emily on one team, Coz, Piki and Sera on the other. Emily won the draw to be dealer first, with Pitch advising her as far as the rules of the game and how it differed from the gin rummy she was used to. Piki was chosen to be the scorekeeper. The goal was 10000 points, and Coz and Jack as team captains determined that 7s and aces were wild, with red 3s as the bonus cards. 

Jack’s team won the first two hands, but soon the battle for points became more even, and the two partnerships were often neck-and-neck. There was a lot of laughter around the dining room table, and the hours flew by.

At different points in the evening between hands, either Coz or Pitch would get up to check outside to see whether Con Ed had restored power to any of their neighbors, but up and down the block and across the street remained dark.   It was obvious to all that no one was going to school or work tomorrow.

“This setup and the weather reminds me of that time with Uncle Rico,” Coz said casually on his latest return to his seat. “You remember, Pitch?”

“How could I forget?” Pitch replied.  It was his turn to deal, and the cards flew smoothly from his elegant long-fingered hands, thirteen to each player. “It was New Year’s Eve, but it made for just as good a ghost story as if it were Halloween.”

That statement made both girls take notice; they’d been starting to fade a bit after sitting in the dark for so long. 

“You saw a ghost, Dad?”

“Who’s Uncle Rico?”

Sera and Emily spoke nearly together, while Jack and Piki looked at each other in confusion.

Coz laughed. “Let’s play this last hand, then tell the ghost story.”

Piki snorted. “Trying to distract the other team, Cossimo?”

Pitch gazed loftily down his nose at his brother. “We will not be swayed.  The cards are dealt. Draw and discard, Piki.”

“Fine.”

Play continued through various melds by both teams, and though it was still fairly evenly matched, Jack’s team hit the 10000 points first.

“Victory!” Emily pumped her fist in the air.  “Great job, Uncle Pitch! Great job, Dad!”

“Now, Emily, it’s not nice to gloat,” Jack chided her.

“No worries, Uncle Jack,” Seraphina reassured him. “It was a fair fight. And fun. But,” she turned to her father, “I want to hear more about Uncle Rico’s ghost.”

“Okay,” Coz said. “But why don’t we shift to the living room, where it’s warmer.” He was watching his husband trying not to shiver; Pitch’s poor circulation was still an issue even after all these years.

They all got up and did as Coz suggested. The radiators in the house ran on natural gas and were separate from the electrical system, and the big one in the living room was clanking away.  The wind outside was still whistling, and the windows were coated with blizzard-blown snow.  It made for its own eerie light along with the two camping lanterns that the girls grabbed from the dining room table.

“Ah, that’s better,” Pitch said, huddled on the loveseat with Coz under a pile of bright-colored knitted afghans. Jack had pulled Piki into his lap on the recliner, causing their daughter to hold her nose in fake disgust at her parents’ public display of affection. Emily sat cross-legged on the floor with her back to the radiator, while Sera stretched out on the window seat under a quilted blanket.

“Everybody comfy?” Coz asked, and got a chorus of “yes” and “mmm-hmmm” in reply.

“Okay. Uncle Rico was really my great-uncle, your great-grandma’s brother. He came over from Italy about five years after Mama Michelina and Papa Andy settled here, about seven years after they got married.  He was one of a whole crowd of relatives and friends that came to play cards here on Saturday nights… Antonette Marchione, Mary Ciancculli, Anna Piano, Charlie Castiglia, Solly Salvatore… it was either rummy or blackjack, penny a point.”

He laughed, remembering. “But those Saturday night sessions were NOTHING compared to the annual New Year’s Eve card parties. THOSE card games went on for DAYS. I got to play with the grownups and my cousins every year after I turned five.  Uncle Rico got along real well with my dad, and they both called me a card shark.”

“And you still are,” Pitch pointed out.

“Yeah, some things don’t change,” Sera added. “So how did Uncle Rico end up being part of a ghost story?”

“Who said he was part of a ghost story?” Coz teased.

“You did!”

“No, sweet child o’mine, I did not. YOU jumped to that conclusion.  Maybe it’s a ghost story, maybe it’s not.  Can I continue?”

Sera blew upwards at her overgrown bangs, making a frustrated noise. “Fine. But get to the point, already!”

“Yeah, Uncle Coz,” Emily chimed in.

“Yeah, Coz,” Jack added saucily. “I’m with Em and Sera. Keep going with the story.”

“Hey, no more potshots from the peanut gallery!”

“Now, now, children,” said Piki, including his husband as well as his daughter in his sniffy admonishment, “mind your manners when we’re guests in this house…”

“THANK you, Piki.”  

“But, Cossimo, if you could leave us in a little LESS suspense…”

Coz mimed being shot in the heart.

“Fine. Geez, tough crowd.” He shifted on the loveseat and put his arm back around Pitch, who snorted but couldn’t quite disguise a smile. “Anyway, by the time I was in high school, my Aunt Mary, Rico’s wife, had died, and Rico moved down to New Jersey to live with his oldest kid.  But he still insisted on driving up the Garden State Parkway to get to Mama Michelina’s and Papa Andy’s for every single New Year’s Eve.” 

Pitch gave one of his rare teeth-showing smiles in reminiscence and offered his input. “Our senior year at NDU, Coz’s parents invited me along on their trip to spend New Year’s Eve at the grandparents’ house…. This house.  We got here about 3 in the afternoon, just ahead of the snow, and the diehard players were already here… It was quite impressive. The game was blackjack, not rummy, and these people were SERIOUS about it, even the youngest kids and grandkids from the neighborhood. I was outmatched in the ruthlessness department.”

“Awww, poor baby,” crooned Coz mockingly.  “Anyway, we all got settled in for the long haul. Papa had made sauce and meatballs in the crockpot, just like we had tonight, and Mama had made like six different kinds of pasta and had bought out the deli counter for cold cuts, so everybody could just get up and grab themselves food between dealing themselves in and out of the game.  Nobody noticed until around six o’clock that there was suddenly two feet of snow on the ground and Uncle Rico hadn’t arrived yet.”

Sera sat up and swung her legs to the floor. “Ooooooooh!”

Emily, too, was suddenly a lot more attentive.  

Coz continued, “We all figured that he was just taking it slow, or that there was some kind of detour off the Garden State. Mama decided she’d wait until seven, and then call Rico’s son Jimmy to see when Rico had left, or if he’d decided not to come…” Pitch interrupted, “I think I ventured something like being surprised that no one had called him earlier, or surprised that they’d wait to call him, but everyone around the table started in with their own theories, punctuated with words like ‘stoo-nad’ and ‘testaforte’..”

“The term is testaduro, dear. Literally ‘hard-headed.”

“Very well. Testaduro.  But it seemed odd to me that no one was worried about an older gentleman driving in a blizzard.”

“You hadn’t spent enough time with my family by that point,” Coz parried with a laugh. “You gotta realize that even if Uncle Rico was 82, he was still sharp as a tack and as independent a cuss as you’d ever find.  He’d take it as the worst insult if someone tried to coddle him. No blizzard would ever get the better of him.”

Both girls were sitting forward, entranced by the story.

“So seven o’clock comes and goes, The card game’s still going on.  Mama calls Jimmy and hears that Rico left New Jersey at two-thirty, so normal traffic would get him into the Bronx at about eight o’clock.  No biggie.”

Jack and Piki exchanged dubious looks, but they too were enthralled.

“Nine o’clock comes and goes. Ten o’clock comes and goes. Eleven o’clock comes and goes.” Coz paused  before intoning seriously, “And at five minutes to midnight is when Papa Andy decides to call the police.”

He turned his head to gaze solemnly at each of his eager listeners and then pointed dramatically at the cuckoo clock above Pitch’s head. “Just as Papa hung up the phone, that clock right there… that clock struck midnight, and the kitchen door blew open, and Uncle Rico stood in the doorway, and the first thing out of his mouth is ‘Wadda you all starin’ at?  Ya look like you seen some kinda ghost.’ He dumps his coat on the floor, takes a seat at the table, and growls, ‘Deal the cards’.”

Those words had barely left Coz’s mouth when three things happened at once.

The cuckoo clock above Pitch’s head struck the hour.

The outer door banged as though the wind wanted to rip it off its hinges.

The power came back on.

Later, Piki would swear to Jack that he didn’t blame the girls for screaming in unison at that point, since he had come close to screaming as well.

Pitch gave a cackle of glee.  “You tell that SO WELL.  I’ve got to film that some time.”

Sera found her voice first. “DAD!!!  Was he a ghost, or wasn’t he?”

“Sorry, punkin, Uncle Rico lived to play cards for at least five more New Year’s Eves.”

“AWWWWWWWW!!!!” was Emily’s disappointed reaction.

Jack stretched his arms over his head.  “Well, on that note, THIS old man is tired and needs his beauty sleep.  And I’m sure some young folks should be heading upstairs .”

Halfhearted grumbles from Emily and Sera greeted this announcement, but as Piki got up from Jack’s lap, the two girls scrambled to their feet as well and gave Coz and Pitch cheek-kisses.

Good night greetings were exchanged all around, and everyone else went to their rooms, leaving Coz and Pitch downstairs to finish the clearing up.

“You’re not going to tell them, are you?” Coz asked as he closed the dishwasher.

“Not going to tell them that I’ve seen your Uncle Rico sitting right there?” Pitch pointed through the kitchen doorway into the dining room. “That I’ve seen him more than once at that table, shuffling cards like a Vegas casino boss, years after he died?” He grinned wolfishly.

“Of course I’m not going to tell them. They’ll find out some New Year’s Eve when they hear 'Deal the cards' from a spectral voice they've never heard before."

#nightmare dork university #ndu future!fic #nightmare galleon #ndu winternight #sylph writes #happy halloween

[raitrolling]

Lusien: Round 2

=> Things had been quiet since you returned to Vernrot Harbour. Parting with Anirus was bittersweet, you knew you couldn’t stay sailing with them forever but you’ll miss living together and supporting their crew. But the two of your have your own responsibilities, and with Those Who Slumber In The Deep finally calmed down, there’s no reason for you to not return to the lighthouse. You said your farewells, wished them safe travels, and returned home.

=> The lighthouse has become operational once again, and apart from a few questions about why the light wasn’t on from some of the town’s residents, it appears nothing catastrophic occurred in your absence. Nothing the residents were aware of, anyway.

=> Your lusus sadly passed a few nights after you returned home. You knew his time was fast approaching, and you don’t know whether to feel relieved or guilty that he waited until you returned to live out his last few nights. You buried him in his favourite grazing patch near your hive, you grieved his loss for a few days, and then you moved on. There was nothing that could be done to save him, no lusus can escape the years finally catching up to them, and the best you could do was ensure his last few moments were peaceful.

=> You feel like you were barely able to get settled back into your old life before that peace was disrupted. Less than a perigee after their last awakening, the horrorterrors began spiralling out of control once more.

=> This time, you know you’re powerless. You know you have too much to lose if you were to try and calm them down again, and you know that Anirus would be much too far away to save you again. You cannot let their last sacrifice go to waste by throwing it away in favour of falling under the entities’ influence a second time. But most importantly, you know that if the town stayed standing in your absence the first time, you can trust everyone to remain safe throughout this storm. There is nothing for you to do.

=> You don’t know how long this storm will take to pass - you don’t remember the last one very well either, if you were to be honest, - but you cannot risk leaving your hive during this time. You have enough food to last a couple weeks, and if worse comes to worst you can always ration your meals. You have enough logs to keep the fireplace lit for at least a week, and enough blankets to keep yourself warm when you run out of kindling. You have a surplus of supplies to keep the lighthouse operational after months of the light remaining unlit. You have more than enough furniture to barricade the front door, in case you ever get tempted to listen to the horrorterror’s cries for your help. 

=> You push a chest full of your ancestor’s diaries in front of the door, followed by one of your armchairs, and a couple dining chairs for good measure. You retrieve all the blankets from your supply closet and stack them on the other armchair, picking up the plush wolf-ram afterwards. A gift that was left on your doorstep the night Anirus’ ship sailed away once again. They never mentioned leaving you a present, but you’re confident from the choice in stuffed animal that it must have been from them, delivered by one of their crewmates. You didn’t realise you would appreciate such a gift so much until you opened the box. Now whenever you see it sitting on the armchair, you can think of them.

=> You sit down on the couch, cuddling the plush close to you, and watch the storm outside your window. There’s nothing else you can do but pray for it to pass.

=> ...

=> ... Outside, along the shoreline of the beach, the town scientist twirls around and dances to the wonderful music only he seems to be able to hear.

#drabble #lusien avalon #vallis reyleh #plot: all things must end #and the last response drabble #idk what glas and miki would be doing but just assume Probably Freaking Out lmao #anyways big Fs in the chat for vernrot Really Going Through It a second time #at least lucy learned his lesson :)

[sleepysugabear]

This is Happening - Chapter Four

Time flew, and before you knew it, the hotel was setting up for lunch service. Being that the same three hundred or so people were all snowed in indefinitely, they had foregone the pageantry of a restaurant and taken to setting out a modest buffet for every meal. In the meantime, you were all asked to leave the dining area.

You were sure it had nothing to do with the sobbing man-child in your midst.

A small voice in your head told you that the party was over. You had to get going, figure out what to do, and midnight had likely struck on your time with seven princes anyway. But you shoved the voice to the back and let Jimin wrap an arm around your shoulder to push you toward the lounge.

Yoongi didn't seem to have an issue with this—he stayed close without touching, and no strange looks—which you found curious, but knew this wasn't the time to ask. You weren't sure you'd ever get the chance.

You lost sight of Yoongi for a few moments when a desk clerk caught his attention. When he walked away, you very nearly followed him, unsure what you would do without the one member you'd made a connection with. But you still had the one who spoke English in your party, so you followed along and seized your opportunity.

When Yoongi returned, Namjoon, seated in an armchair across from you, was just about to answer the question you'd been asking yourself, and now—finally—him: What are they doing here?

Next to you on the couch, Jungkook lounged into Jimin on his other side, who was absently stroking J-Hope's hair. You had offered to give him your seat, but he was happy where he was on the floor. You didn't blame him.

Tae laid his long legs out across an ottoman, his back to Jin's front in another chair, next to Namjoon's. He appeared to be trying to stretch so that he could poke your knee with his toe, but the angle was pushing him into Jin, who quickly had enough of being squashed and threatened to kick Tae off of him.

Inwardly, you were in awe of how close all of them were, how natural it seemed for them all to cuddle up together. They had marveled at being allowed to hug women they just met, but you hadn't truly touched on friendly male interactions. Had they been American, this would never happen.

Yoongi came to sit on your arm of the couch.

You tapped his elbow and narrowed your eyes. Is everything okay?

He glanced down to smile tiredly and assured you everything was fine with a sleepy blink.

You both returned your attention to Namjoon. Evidently, the group was on their way out west when their flight got diverted due to weather. When they and their staff got to the airport, they had faced the same lodging decision you had, but there were only three rooms left at this hotel at the time.

The seven guys and two lucky security personnel loaded into a shuttle for this place, while the rest had to either stay at the airport or chance the no-star motel. The guys were sleeping three and four to a suite, giving security their own single king. When they'd first gotten in, they were under house arrest, getting meals to their rooms and only coming out late at night to stretch and use the pool without an audience.

The younger members complained about cabin fever and wasted time.

Jin shared that he was happy to have time to relax and play video games at his leisure. “I got Vulpix!”

You felt your head tilt to the side as you took Jin in, trying to figure him out. He was attractive, but possibly conceited, although that might have been a joke. You still weren't sure. He'd taken the others making fun of him graciously, seemed easily embarrassed, though quick to laugh at himself—the most ridiculous laugh, but still.

He had shown tenderness when he spoke of his pets earlier, and concern for their well being while he was away. He let Tae sit on him and Jimin poke at him while they took pictures, so he was a patient older brother, but you saw his inner child clearly when he rattled on about the Pokemon he'd found.

“I too unlock Gold Mario for Mario Kart. Good day!”

“Oh do you have the newest one then?” You asked “Can you be Toad in that one? I love Toad!”

Jin's eyes glazed over at your comment, and the guys all “Ohhh”ed.

Did I say something wrong? “Sorry, I don't know what characters are on it now. I haven't played in a while.”

He continued to stare.

“I guess it doesn't matter.” You fidgeted with your sleeve. “I'll probably never get the chance to play anyway. I don't have the time.”  Or money, you added mentally.

“You can be Toad!” Jin blurted, suddenly. You looked to him, shocked, and he winked. Again.

“Yoongi is Toad,” Tae pouted. “She can be princess.” He smiled, seeming to think he was complimenting you.

“She is Toad!” Jin insisted. “Yoongi will rather sleep, like every day.”

“Every day?” You turned to Sleepy, proud that it was such an apt nickname.

“Best days,” Yoongi smiled and blinked slow, obviously daydreaming about a bed. You could relate.

On the second day, according to Namjoon, they all had started to get antsy, so security let them go outside, but only for a few hours, which was more than enough according to J-Hope and his shiver.

Tae and Jungkook (who momentarily forgot he was flustered by you) regaled you with a tale of an epic snow battle and resultant frost burns—in very broken, but not unintelligible English. They showed you the little red marks on their hands with the sort of excited pride only a child could have.

Jimin refused to show you his hands when the others asked, and they all started teasing him in Korean.

As their conversation turned to bickering, you leaned your head against Yoongi's hip and closed your eyes, feeling oddly content. He patted your head, then rested his hand on your shoulder, leaning back into the wall.

“You make them too comfortable.”

You almost hadn't heard Namjoon's breathy comment, but you did, and it stiffened your spine. When you opened your eyes though, he didn't look upset, just . . .thoughtful.

You tried to pull away from Sleepy Yoongi, but he was already passed out, precariously balanced on the edge of the couch, and you were likely anchoring him, so you looked to Namjoon and shrugged.

“Anyway,” he continued, quieting the children. “Today is the third day, and security let us out. It is too snowy for anyone to come or go from the hotel anymore, and they have spent two days learning all the guests. They said there is no threat, so we are here, finally free until we can leave. I hope it is soon.”

“We have show in two days,” Tae added, holding up two fingers.

“We do not want to cancel,” Jin chimed in.

J-Hope said something in Korean, and everyone (awake) nodded.

Jimin took a stab at the translation for you. “He say, ARMY will be a dispoint.”

Jungkook clapped for him.

“Will be disappointed,” Namjoon corrected.

“Oh, sorry.” He smiled adorably. “Disappointed.”

Jungkook clapped louder, causing Yoongi to grunt and twitch slightly in his sleep. Unfortunately, the twitch sent him sliding over the side of the couch. He woke up and caught himself in time, finally letting go of your shoulder to adjust his position.

He slid in between you and the arm, pushing you closer to Jungkook, who scrambled back into Jimin's lap. Yoongi ignored this, put his head back, and was out again within moments. You tapped his knee, but he was unresponsive.

“I should go anyway.” You stood, shooting Jungkook an apologetic glance. “But it was nice meeting you all.” You bow-nodded to everyone, and tried to take a step, but there was a J-Hope on your foot.

“Uh . . .” you stared blankly at him, unsure what he meant by it. He hadn't even trusted you enough to be called by his real name.

“You stay.” He patted the couch cushion.

“Actually, I really do have to go.” You glanced around, uncomfortable.

J-Hope said something to Namjoon in Korean, and they had a brief discussion that ended with J-Hope's hand tighter around your ankle and Tae leaning forward to grab your wrist.

Namjoon responded to your panicked expression. “They do not want you to leave,” he explained. “You have been by yourself for two days. They do not want you to be alone in your room all day again.”

Ignoring they know too much about me . . . “I'm, um, I'm not going to my room.” 

Honest enough.

“Are you going to the bathroom?” J-Hope asked, through Namjoon.

You giggled, then sobered. “No, actually, I, uh, lost my room.” You looked down to your fidgeting hands. “I don't have a room because I ran out of money—yesterday, really. My parents sent me some for last night, but they won't send more.”

You looked forward, deciding to own it.

“I shouldn't even be at a place this nice, but I thought it was only for one day, and then I got stuck.”

“Where you go?” Jin nearly pushed Tae off the chair sitting up.

“I don't know,” you answered honestly. “That's what I was trying to figure out when you guys found me.” You wiped a tear and J-Hope rubbed your calf. “I have to go now, because if I have to walk to the airport, I don't want it to be after dark.”

You broke free of J-Hope and Tae, only to be met by a sturdier obstacle.

“Excuse me, miss?” The older gentlemen you'd seen playing cards earlier stood in your path for some reason. “Is this your luggage?”

The guy from the lobby held up what was clearly your suitcase. But why did he have it? Without waiting for a response from you, he continued.

“With your permission, ma'am, I would like to search your belongings for weapons, paraphernalia, and hidden recording devices.”

You glanced around and realized you had the attention of several people in the lounge, including BTS, and smiled manically in an attempt to assure them that you were not, in fact, a terrorist.

You snatched the bag from the man, and hissed under your breath, “No, you can't look in my bag. Who are you? Why do you have it?” Why would the hotel just give it to you?

“Excuse me, sir. Is there a problem?” Namjoon approached, looking between you.

“Just a precaution, sir,” the man answered. “When Mr. Min added her room to your invoice, we assumed you would be in close contact and thought it best to clear her fully. For your protection.

He bowed to Namjoon, then turned to you. “If you would please gather your belongings, ma'am, I will escort you to your suite and clear you so you can return to your day.” He waved to the boys behind you; most of them smiled and waved excitedly back.

Jungkook frowned, however. “Not ma'am. She is not old.” Jimin and J-hope nodded solemnly next to him.

“Thanks, I guess.” You scrubbed at your face, trying to make sense of what was happening.

“I don't have a room to go to.” You approached the obvious first. “And even if I did, I would not take you to it, because I don't know who you are. Do you know him?” You glanced up at Namjoon through your fingers, voice squeakier than you'd intended.

He nodded. “Kevin is the lead security officer on our North American tour. You should go with him.”

“Go where!?”

“To your suite, miss.”

“I don't have a suite!”

“Mr. Min was quite clear—”

“Who. The Hell. Is Mr. Min?!?” You felt yourself growing hysterical.

Behind you, Jimin giggled. “Min Yoongi.” He gestured to Sleepy, still dead to the world.

Kevin nodded. “He booked your suite, miss. But when he discovered it had been yours, he instructed us to return your luggage to the room.”

“Okay, no.” You nearly broke Namjoon's nose with your flailing hands. “That doesn't make any sense. How could he have done that? I just told these guys about losing my room, and Sleepy was . . . sleeping! There is no way he booked my room and talked to you, and did all that stuff you just said in the last three minutes!”

Kevin's brow pinched. “He didn't tell you?”

Namjoon, equally curious, prompted Kevin to go on. He explained to you that the reason the front desk worker had pulled Yoongi aside earlier was to inform him that a room had become available.

“You see, when they initially called the hotel, there were four rooms available. We asked them to set them aside, but couldn't provide payment over the phone. Evidently, one of the rooms was booked while the company dealt with the paperwork.”

“There were only three rooms when we came,” Namjoon explained. “Yoongi hyung was . . . not happy.”

“He likes be alone,” Jimin provided, eyes clouded.

“Mr. Min had asked to be informed when a room became available. Which it did, a moment ago. He asked me to come along and complete the transaction for him.

“Mr. Min, well, most of them, can understand English fairly well, but feel more comfortable when someone speaks for them. We booked the room, but of course I had to know how it became available. I was afraid I'd missed something in my daily observations.”

I guess that explains how the guys knew I'd been alone all this time, you thought. I was being “observed.”

“Of course, I hadn't missed anything,” Kevin laughed. “I never do. It was just that you checked out this morning, which didn't make sense.”

“How did you know I checked out this morning?”

“The clerk noticed you were with the group and expressed her relief that you had found a way to stay in the room. She is also quite jealous.”

“That's not why I'm talking to them!”

“We know, miss.”

“I'm not a gold digger!”

“Of course not.”

“I'm not staying in that room!”

Someone behind you gasped, perhaps several someones, but you'd had enough. You knew how this looked, how it would sound to anyone else. American girl, down on her luck, happens to stumble upon some rich, famous foreign people and take advantage of their kindness.

That wasn't you.

You didn't want anyone to think that.

You didn't want them to think that.

“Where you go?” Jin asked, standing. “No place! You must stay.”

Several of the guys nodded their agreement. The idiot who started all this snored a little.

“If you insist on departing—"

“I do!” You cut Kevin off.

“There is a refugee camp of sorts, set up in some of the meeting rooms, for the people who came here before the roads closed and found out there were no rooms. Women in one, men in the other. They can set up a cot for you there.”

Why didn't they mention that this morning? I could have avoided all of this.

“Fine. I'll do that then. It's all taken care of.” You looked to Jin, who still seemed upset. “I have a place to go.”

“But,” said Kevin. “I would recommend storing your bag in the room.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he persisted.

“There is no security in the meeting rooms. No bathrooms. People are showering at the sauna and disrobing at will. It's little more than a homeless shelter.”

He paused.

“A very elegant homeless shelter. It's just a sea of cots with luggage underneath and no one watching out for it. You're better off using your old room for now. No one else has been inside yet. If you want to shower, change, use the restroom today, you will have a safe, private space to do it. When it's time for bed, Mr. Min will move to your room, and you can sleep on a cot, if that is what you wish.”

Kevin did little to hide his contempt for the idea.

“Or . . .” He continued. “You can simply accept Mr. Min's generosity, as would be polite.”

You didn't appreciate his judgmental tone. “Maybe in Korea,” you allowed, though you doubted it. “But we're in America right now, and here it's pretty rude to accept something so expensive from a stranger, especially with no way to repay it.”

“You pay!” Tae argued. “You teach! English and hugs.”

“You can be our cultural advisor,” Namjoon smirked.

“I'll let you bring my bag to the room,” you sighed, ignoring the triumphant cheers. “For now.”

They frowned.

“Search it all you want. I'll use the room while no one is in it, but at the end of the day, I'm going to the meeting room, and Yoongi will use the room your company paid for. It wouldn't be right,” you implored whoever made eye contact.

Jin huffed, apparently unhappy, and marched away without looking at you.

“Jin-hyung, where you going?” Tae called.

Without stopping or looking back, Jin waved his arms dramatically and yelled, “I need. Food!”

[dsmutp]

hehe now that i have gotten your consent- (i have 2 ideas for both sub and dom reader but that's for another story anyways so-) basically, c!eret gets jealous because whenever they're walking around with reader, reader gets distracted by something or dragged away by someone else, basically not giving him all the attention he wants. So he has enough of it and randomly drags the reader away(hold up i'm losing space here-😀)

gotchu fam <3

Another One of Those Days (C! Eret X Reader)

Being a king was no small feat. It wasn't all classy parties and fur lined capes - it also meant actually running a nation. And the SMP was no small nation. There were disputes to be settled and laws to be upheld, and at the end of the day, all of that responsibility fell to the king.

You were a little biased, but you thought Eret was doing a pretty good job of handling an entire kingdom. For the king of the entire SMP - a nation torn apart by wars on a regular basis - he wasn't doing half bad. Even war torn, Eret had the SMP as one of the most stable places to live. He did it all with a smile on his face, too.

Of course, he wasn't doing it entirely alone.

You were a something of a helping hand when it came to making sure the kingdom ran smoothly, being Eret's spouse. While he handled the most important parts of running a kingdom, you did a lot of the smaller things. Things like managing the palace staff, and handling smaller disputes (things like property line disagreements and civil arguments). It wasn't much, on the large scheme of things, but some days it could get pretty hectic.

Like today, for instance.

Since you had woken up this morning, you had been running around the palace all day. It seemed like the whole universe needed your attention - something had happened down in the kitchens during breakfast (meaning you'd had to cut your morning meal with Eret short), and the civil disagreement you were supposed to resolve today ended up stretching on for hours (meaning you weren't able to catch Eret after his morning council meeting) and then just as things had been calming down, someone had broken a stained glass window in the west wing (meaning you'd had to skip dinner entirely, and ended up just sneaking a few slices of sourdough from the kitchens).

Needless to say, you were exhausted, and you missed your husband.

Luckily for you, the sun had sunk behind the trees, the day was over, and he would be waiting for you in bed.

You finished off your sourdough dinner substitute as you approached the door of your shared bedroom, opening it up as quietly as you could and slipping inside. You didn't want to disturb him if he was asleep, as you were sure he'd had a hard day as well...

But no, Eret was very much awake, and waiting for you on the edge of the bed.

He had taken off most of his kingly attire - the long red cape usually found draped over his shoulder was folded over one of the armchairs on the other side of the room, and the crown was in it's proper place on it's shelf. Now, Eret's hair hung loose in his face, and his white silk shirt lay unbuttoned across his chest.

"Hello dear." He greeted in a low rumble, a smile coming over his face. "I missed you today."

You melted, taking his hand as he reached out for you, pulling you into his lap. Your head found it's place tucked underneath his jaw, and you wound your arms around his middle, sighing deep in your chest. "Hello love."

"You seem tired." Eret noted, stroking a hand through your hair. "Long day?"

"Like you wouldn't believe." You grumbled. "I don't think I've had such a busy day since before we got married." You nuzzled into him more, letting your eyes drift shut. "It's better now though."

You could feel Eret's chuckle bubble up in his chest. "I'm sorry we didn't get to take our usual breaks today." He said. "Perhaps I can make up for the lost time now?"

Your eyes opened back up at the suggestive tone in his voice, and you pulled back a bit so you could meet his eyes. "Oh?"

"If you're feeling up to it, of course." He said. "I just thought maybe it would help you relax, blow off some steam, if you will." His hand found it's way down to your thigh, kneading the flesh gently.

Goosebumps rose from your skin at the touch. "That would be very nice." You said.

A grin stretched across Eret's face as he shifted, letting you get out of his lap. "Put on something nice for me, won't you? I missed seeing you today."

---

It couldn't have been more than a quarter of an hour later that you found your wrists bound to the headboard of the four poster bed you shared with Eret, your lingerie clad body spread over the sheets like a lewd painting. You tugged at the silk tie binding your wrists - one of Eret's many sashes. He'd worn this one to a few banquets before, a lovely deep purple color.

Now, the fabric only accented your skin as you lay in wait for him.

Eret stood at the foot of the bed, slowly shrugging the shirt off his shoulders, letting the fabric slide down over his back. He always liked to put on something of a show for you - and you were always appreciative.

Eret's eyes found you as he unbuttoned his pants, letting his trousers pool at his feet as he stepped out of them. In only his boxers, he climbed onto the bed, propping himself up beside you to run a hand down your body, toying with the fabric of the lingerie you had picked out.

"You look delectable darling." He said, playing with the fabric of your outfit. The action caused goosebumps to rise over your skin where his fingers just barely brushed across. "I love it when you wear this one."

"Well, you said you'd missed me." You responded, pulling against your ties to crane your neck forward. Eret indulged you, leaning down to press his lips to yours, wasting no time in opening the kiss. Eret stopped playing with your outfit and instead started removing it, exposing your bottom half.

He pulled away to toss the piece of the outfit away, throwing it towards the pile of his own clothes on the floor. A shiver ran up your spine as Eret's eyes drifted down your body - he looked like he wanted to eat you.

And he did.

You jerked against the ties as Eret put his mouth on you, his hands sliding upwards to grip around your hips, holding them down to the bed so you couldn't squirm away from the heat of pleasure. A moan escaped your throat as Eret licked around your hole, sliding a finger in.

Involuntarily, your hips jerked up, only for Eret to press back down, stopping you from moving too much. You ached to touch him, but you were still secured to the headboard. There was something tantalizing about being completely at his mercy though.

Another finger slid in, beginning to stretch you open as Eret kept up his ministrations. Your breathing picked up as the warm tingly feeling spread over the rest of your body. Eret never disappointed - not when he put his mouth to good use.

You weren't even surprised when your orgasm washed over you. Even when he was just prepping you, Eret was a generous lover.

He pulled back as you came back down to earth, shedding his boxers. His cock stood at full attention - red no doubt from where he had had it pressed against the mattress while he'd spoken a royal decree into your skin.

"Good?" He asked, bringing a hand up to wipe his chin off.

"Wonderful." You said, catching your breath. Eret's hands off your hips now, you angled them up. "In please?"

Eret smiled, one hand coming up to card through your hair. "Right."

One of Eret's hands came to rest on your hip, the other coming to rest on the bedsheets beside you, holding himself up so that he could slide into you. You tipped your head back, savoring the stretch as Eret sucked in a breath.

You began to roll your hips, not giving Eret a moment to adjust. He leaned down, choking on a groan as he pressed his lips to the side of your neck. You sighed as he began to press kisses up your jaw, sucking little bruises against the skin.

"I missed you." He said, picking up the pace as he rolled his hips. "Even though it was just a day, I missed you."

"Needy." You tsked, meeting every thrust.

"You like that though." Eret said, voice tipping into something breathier. You could tell he was nearing his peak now, and you were beginning to reach a second - it would be easier for him to tip you over the edge now that he had done it once before.

All it took was a particularly rough thrust for you to be unraveling for a second time around him, Eret following you over the edge.

He collapsed against you, pillowing his head into your chest. You took a moment to catch your breath, just letting the feeling settle into you.

"Feeling better?" Eret asked, voice muffled as he spoke right into your skin.

"Much." You said. "You know what would make it better though?"

"Hm?"

"If you untied me so I could cuddle you to sleep."

#dream smp x reader #dream smp smut #mcyt x reader #mcyt smut #eret smut #eret x reader

[lexosaurus]

Invisobang: Morge pt 2

It was a beautiful day outside. The birds were singing, the flowers were blooming...a corpse was found in the woods.

Or, Amity Park's local cadaver dog trainer was walking her dog in the woods when they discovered a little surprise waiting for them six feet under.

Pairings: none WC: 9886 read on: [ao3] part 2 of 2, read: [part 1]

---

some amazing accompanying art by @ghostkiin

---

“It’s like you’re not even trying!” Plasmius barked, throwing Danny an exaggerated yawn while blocking the ectoblasts thrown his way. “Really, Daniel, you were always woefully incapable compared to me, but this is just abysmal, even for you.”

Danny gritted his teeth and glared back, allowing his glowing eyes to glare to toxic levels. Plasmius picked the wrong week to try to steal blueprints from Fentonworks.

“What, are you going to hit me with a little ectoblast again?”

“Oh I’ll show you an ectoblast,” Danny growled, charging ectoplasm in his palms so concentrated that the green glowed a fierce white. He flung his hands out, releasing the energy with a venomous, “eat shit, Fruitloop!”

But just like the rest of his life, his attack was uncontrolled, wild. It flew several feet to Vlad’s side, nailing a road sign and burning it like acid until there was nothing left.

Plasmius grinned at its charred remains. “Was that supposed to hit me? My, Daniel, I’m quaking in my boots!”

Danny felt his aura increase.

This week had already been shitty enough, even without Vlad’s help. He felt like his brain was trapped in a hailstorm, with constant unavoidable attacks pelting him from all sides. His core was a ball of energy and anxiety, not allowing him to sleep or eat or even breathe without the constant fear about his body and how it was being messed with and he needed to protect it and how he’d failed so miserably at protecting it and now his secret was going to be revealed and he was screwed.

“Well? I’m waiting! Tick tock, Little Badger!”

Ancients, Vlad was such an asshole.

“Shut UP!” Danny yelled, releasing his ghostly wail.

Just as a pink blast slapped him across the face, sending him flying into a brick building.

Plasmius tisked, flying nonchalantly towards him. “We can’t have you using that particular power, now can we? Not while you’re so obviously in control of yourself.”

“Fuck off.”

The older ghost smirked and brushed dust off his red and white cape. “Teenagers. Always so hormonal. What, did a girl at school reject you?”

“What are you talking about?” Danny launched himself back in the air and powered an ice blast. “You know what? Don’t answer that. I don’t care what you have to say.”

“No, I’m sure you don’t,” Vlad said, releasing a plasmius blast just before Danny released his own. The pink blast travelled across the air like a bullet, punching Danny in the gut and sending him crashing back into the building.

Meanwhile, Danny’s ice blast flew a foot above Vlad’s head, webbing itself into a tree and coating the branches with thick icicles.

Danny tried to push himself back onto his shaky feet, only to be pushed back down yet again by another plasmius blast.

Brick tumbled onto his head, coating his vision with dust. His body ached, and his neck was sore from the whiplash.

From his clouded vision, a glowing white figure with red eyes and gaudy horn-like spikes for hair hovered closer to him.

“My, my. You really are out of sorts today,” Plasmius said. “This is almost too easy. I could just take you out right here and go take your parents’ entire spectre speeder straight from your lab.

“What do you even need a spectre speeder for? You can fly,” Danny asked, rubbing a lump from his skull.

“A simple minded teenager such as yourself couldn’t possibly understand my reasons.”

Anger flared through Danny. He gripped some wreckage next to him and forced himself back onto his feet. His legs shook and he felt something wet drip down his calf.

Great, he was bleeding. Just add that to the list of reasons as to why this week was the worst.

“Shut up. I won’t let you do that.”

“Oh?” Plasmius powered a pink blast in each hand. “Then prove it.”

Danny tried, but with each attempted blast, kick, or punch, it seemed like Plasmius was one step ahead of him.

And worse, it felt like he was reveling in the power trip.

A burn here, a kick there—everywhere Danny looked, there was Vlad, glowing fist at the ready. It reminded him of the first time he’d encountered Vlad, back at the mansion. Having Vlad so openly destroy him had been shameful.

Danny collapsed onto the pavement, heaving, his entire body searing in pain.

Plasmius paused to survey him up and down with suspicious eyes. Finally, just as Danny was one breath away from turning invisible out of sheer discomfort, did the ghost finally open his mouth. “Alright, spit it out.”

Anxiety gripped Danny’s stomach. “What are you talking about?”

“Something’s troubling you enough to make you pathetically weak. It’s honestly embarrassing. I can’t stand here watching my future ward make a fool of himself any longer.”

“I’m not moving in with you, creep,” Danny bit back.

“That’s what you think. No matter, tell your dear old uncle what’s troubling you.”

“Go play in traffic.”

Plasmius’ eyes narrowed. “I’d nearly forgotten what a brat you are. Now tell me before I take methods into my own hands.”

Danny sighed, and attempted to stand. But the moment his foot touched the ground, a sharp pain shot up his shin. He hissed, and lowered himself back to the pavement.

“Well? I don’t have all day.”

“It’s nothing,” Danny grumbled, glaring at the pavement. He felt small under Plasmius’ critical gaze. “Nothing at all.”

“It’s obviously something,” Plasmius said, landing in front of Danny. “Now quit wasting my time and tell me what it is before I—”

“Then why don’t you leave? If I’m just wasting your precious time, then go home! It’s not like you even care about me anyways.”

Vlad leaned in, flaring his aura. “In case it’s not clear to your simple teenage brain, your actions represent the both of us. You fuck up, I have to pay the consequences.”

“Who says this is even about ghost stuff?” Danny hissed. “For all you know, I got in a fight with Jazz.”

Vlad scoffed. “Do you seriously believe me to be that stupid? Of course it’s about your identity! Why else would your core be acting so wildly if its Obsession weren’t at stake?”

Danny flinched.

“You did something, and I want to know what it is so I can determine if I need to run damage control on you or not before you blow this for all of us.”

“It’s...” Danny felt his aura pull back. “It’s about...you know…”

“I can assure you I do not know.”

“I...I might have…the police may have found...it…’

Plasmius sighed and rubbed his forehead with his hand. “What did they find?”

“My—my, uh...body?”

“You mean your identity?” Plasmius’ eyes widened.

“Not exactly.” Danny felt his face burn. “You know...the body I left when I...after the accident.”

Plasmius reacted instantly. He shot up, glancing around, before grabbing Danny and pulling him through a hastily erected portal.

Danny felt his body squeeze through the portal and then seconds later, he was in Vlad’s study. The ghost threw Danny on his loveseat and heightened his aura. His brows creased, and his eyes glowed a dangerous shade of red. “What exactly do you mean when you say the police found your deceased body? How did this happen? What the hell did you do?”

“It wasn’t my fault!” Danny cried indignantly. “They found it with their freakish police dog! I swear I buried it deep in the ground.”

“Well not deep enough, apparently!” Vlad pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “Of all the stupid, childish things you could do!”

“It wasn’t my fault!”

Vlad ripped his hands away from his face, his eyes snapping back to Danny. He took a step closer to the teen, his eyes narrowing until a red glow peaked underneath. “Then whose fault would it be exactly, hmm? What, is this yet another piece of blame you’re going to cast upon my shoulders? Me, the halfa who has managed to keep this a well kept secret for over twenty years when you apparently can’t even manage to keep it to yourself for one?”

Danny let his own ghostly strength shine through his eyes. “Quit acting like I invited them all over. I didn’t, it was a coincidence. A mistake.”

“Oh, goodness me!” Vlad let out a sardonic laugh. “I guess when the Ghost Investigative Ward appear at my doorstep in a month, I’ll just tell them it was all a mistake. That’s sure to turn them right around!”

“Shut up.”

“No I will not.” Vlad’s face set back into a scowl. “You have proven yourself to be a liability again and again, and every single time it’s me who has to clean up your little messes. Messes that you don’t seem to realize could be the end of our kind!”

Anxiety shot through Danny’s stomach. He gripped the arm rests of the chair, squeezing them so tightly he heard the faint sounds of cracking in the wood.

“And now you mean to tell me that the police have your rotting, ectoplasm-drenched inhuman corpse in their possession?” Vlad yelled. “And you’re really trying to argue with me that it was just a simple mistake?”

Danny’s shaking hand slipped, tearing off a chunk of the armchair. It clattering to the floor. “I don’t—I didn’t mean for this to happen. I don’t…”

Vlad closed his eyes, but Danny could still see the wisps of red shimmering through his eyelids. “No, of course you didn’t. But that doesn’t mean we can let them keep it.”

“I’ve tried.” His voice cracked. “I keep trying to convince them to stop, but they won’t—”

“What, you actually thought they’d listen to you? A ghost? My boy, I know you were dim, but this is truly extraordinary.”

Danny sniffed, keeping his head down. He felt like an egg boiling over, the yolk just one jolt away from breaking.

“No…” Plasmius hummed. “What we need is to take it back by force.”

“We can’t, they have the whole morgue under a shield. We can get in as ghosts, and it’d look too suspicious if we showed up as humans.”

“Unfortunately, you may be right about us appearing as humans. We can’t do that. But,” Plasmius’ tone shifted, “one thing we can do is break the shield.”

Danny froze. He gazed questioningly up at the older ghost, who was facing the window with a renewed sense of determination. “Break the shield? How? We can’t touch it!”

“No, but the shield doesn’t exist on its own. It has to be generated from somewhere, doesn’t it? Do you see? We break the device, we break the shield.”

Danny wasn’t following, and he was sure his face betrayed that much.

“Listen, Little Badger. Ghosts cannot touch the shield or the device, but who says—oh I don’t know—maybe a collapsed ceiling might do the trick? Some torn cables, perhaps? After all, with no energy supply, how could it possibly generate the power necessary to produce a shield?”

Danny felt his eyes widen. Something icy settled in his gut. When he spoke, his voice was hollow. “You want to destroy the building.”

“Well I certainly wouldn’t be so crude, but perhaps a few colleagues of mine might be swayed—”

“No.” Danny stood automatically.

Vlad’s head snapped over to him. “No?”

He could feel Vlad’s confusion, and it blended with his own. Deep down, he knew he needed to stop at nothing to get his body back, but collapsing the building? Putting others in danger?

Putting his remains in danger of ruin?

What if something happened? What if a brick fell on his skull? What if a spike tore his abdomen in half?

No, he couldn’t do it. It wasn’t worth the risk.

This was wrong.

“We can’t,” Danny choked out. “You’ll hurt it.”

“I don’t think you understand, Little Badger,” Vlad hissed, leaning down.

Danny could feel the heat of his red eyes on his skull.

“With the position you’ve put us both in? You don’t get to decide what happens to your corpse now.”

“No, Vlad. I’m serious. You can’t—”

“And so am I.” Plasmius straightened, and his aura tinted to a dangerous pink. “You’ve put us at risk one time too many. Now I’m taking things into my own hands. And no amount of scary eyes is going to sway me.”

In one motion, Vlad ripped open a portal and pushed Danny through. Before he could blink, he was back in the damp alley they’d just been in.

“Good day, Danny Phantom.”

Plasmius shut the portal, and Danny was alone.

---

“Thank you for taking the time to come talk to us about this,” Mark said, opening the conference room door for the consultant before him. “This case is unfortunately a bit out of my expertise, and the lab results are even more perplexing. Hopefully you’ll be able to parse through the documents much easier than I.”

Dr. Maddie Fenton, dressed in her typical turquoise lab attire, stepped through the door and took a seat at the table. “Of course, I’m always happy to help Amity’s law enforcement protect its citizens against ghosts.”

“Well,” Mark pulled out a chair for himself, placing the manila folders against the table. “This is actually a bit more complex.”

“Oh?” Dr. Fenton reached for the folders.

“To bring you up to speed, I mentioned on the phone that we needed your assistance with a murder case involving a ghost. But there’s a bit more to it.”

She opened the folder and leafed through the files.

“The truth is the body we uncovered we believe to be Phantom’s body.”

Dr. Fenton paused, her eyebrows shooting up. She glanced up at Mark. “That’s a rather serious case. What evidence do you have to support that?”

“Well…” Mark started. “When we uncovered the body, Phantom appeared above it, and was acting rather erratically. Like a cornered animal, almost.”

“He felt threatened.”

“Right.” He nodded. “But it’s more than that. When we ran forensics on the body, we found that all our lab results were corrupted with ectoplasm. Ectoplasm that when we ran the ectosignature for, turned out to be Phantom’s.”

Dr. Fenton looked back down at the files. “That’s highly unusual.”

“Well we were hoping you’d be able to piece this all together.” Mark gestured to the files.

“I see…” Dr. Fenton’s voice trailed off. Her eyes scanned the page, hungrily soaking up each word. The silence stretched on for a few minutes as Mark awaited her opinion.

Contacting the Fentons had been something Mark had been pushing off for as long as possible. The Fentons were loud, boisterous, and not at all known for their professionalism nor tact.

But it was either they contact the Fentons or the Ghost Investigation Ward. And despite Phantom’s cold demeanor towards the detectives, Mark still had hope that perhaps he could gain the teen ghost’s trust. And to do that, the GiW could not be anywhere near the station.

Of the duo, Maddie Fenton seemed the most level-headed. And it had just been Mark’s luck that of the pair, she was the one with a doctorate in ectobiology. Which meant that it was perfectly understandable when Mark had requested that she alone come into the station to review the files.

“We’re trying to keep this on the down-low. If Phantom feels like we’re going to turn him over to the government, he’ll clam up. As it stands we’re only barely getting information out of him.”

“Well, I wouldn’t trust anything he says anyway,” she said, not looking up from the paper. “He’ll do whatever possible to keep himself safe. Ghosts are products of their Obsessions, and Phantom is no different. If he feels like this investigation is going to come in the way of him being able to feed into his Obsession, then he’ll do anything to stop that from happening. No matter who he hurts in the process.”

Mark felt a shudder creep up his spine. “Do you think he could be lying about this being his body? Maybe he could have been the one to kill this boy and is trying to cover it up?”

“Hmm…no, that doesn’t seem likely given the labs. And besides, it would be highly unusual for Phantom to be summoned to a body that wasn’t his. Although…” Dr. Fenton mused. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like this before.”

“Like what?”

“Well, when an animal dies near a cluster of ambient ectoplasm, their body runs the risk of forming a ghost. However, there must be a significant final moment for the neural pathways in the brain to bond with the ectoplasm. That moment translates into an Obsession, which forms the core that the ghost then forms around. If a human dies peacefully, there’s nothing to work with. But if the human dies violently, or if they die with unfinished business, that gives the ambient ectoplasm something to charge with.”

Mark nodded politely, not seeing where this was going. This was all common knowledge for the people of Amity, and Mark had certainly seen enough of the Fentons’ public speeches to understand these basics.

“The ambient ectoplasm comes from the electrical connections in the brain, unrelated to what’s happening in the body. It’s why a human can be paralyzed from the waist-down, but still form a ghost with functioning legs. Do you see what I’m saying?”

Mark nodded, then shook his head. “I’m sorry, I’m not seeing how this relates to Phantom specifically?”

“There’s no real reason that Phantom’s human body should have been corrupted by ectoplasm. In fact, there’s never been a case of a human body with an ectosignature embedded in its cells. It’s virtually impossible, in fact. Living cells are completely incompatible with ectoplasm.”

Mark stared down at his own copy of the reports, his mind reeling. “You’ve never seen this before?”

“Not in my twenty years in this field.”

“Do you have any idea what could have caused this?”

Dr. Fenton pursed her lips. “There’s one...it would explain a lot about him actually. Human experimentation.”

Oh.

Oh.

Shit.

“You don’t think…” Mark’s voice trailed off, his tongue incapable of finishing the sentence. To think that some sick individual would even attempt such a thing.

“It’s the only logical explanation here.” Dr. Fenton gestured at her folder. “Or at least, the only one I can piece together given this information. Phantom would have had to have died after interacting with an intense amount of ecto-technology. Technology with the power to chemically alter every cell in his living body just before finishing him off with electrocution. Of course, it’s just a theory. Only Phantom knows the truth.”

“Right.” He could hardly process what was being said. “But he won’t tell us the truth.”

“Well, I’m not surprised. Ghosts run a different social hierarchy than humans, theirs is far more simple. It’s entirely based on strength. The stronger the ghost, the better they protect their haunt, the more respect they’re given within ghost culture. If Phantom shows weakness, then the other ghosts can use that to dethrone him as the human world’s great protector.”

“But we’re not ghosts.”

“But he is.” Dr. Fenton cocked her head. “This explains other things too. Like the fact that Phantom, a relatively new ghost, is already a level seven on the ectoplasm power scale.”

“I assume that’s unusual.”

“Quite. It would have had to require an extremely intense death at the very least. But human experimentation with ectoplasm, feelling your body reject itself from the inside out, every strand of DNA being corrupted by the essence of death—that’s not an end I’d wish on my worst enemies.”

“And now we have his corpse. Phantom’s going to feel incredibly threatened. He’s bound to lash out.”

Dr. Fenton nodded gravely. “Then you better wrap this investigation up quickly, because Phantom is still a young ghost. He’s impatient, like a child. The longer you take to solve this case, the more unstable he’ll get. And I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end when he finally snaps.”

---

A dull unease panged at Danny’s core. It was calling to him, trying to goad him to his corpse.

Trouble, trouble, trouble, it seemed to whisper.

But he ignored it, just like he’d been ignoring it all this time. Because no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t get past the shields, he couldn’t get back to his corpse.

He was powerless. Alone.

Scared.

He tried to focus on his math worksheet, but the numbers blurred together and he couldn’t remember what eight times seven was. He had a calculator, but it was in his bag and he couldn’t remember what pocket he’d shoved it into, or even if he’d remembered to put it in his bag last night after staring blankly at the homework assignment for an hour without lifting his pencil even once.

No, his calculator was probably still on his desk at home.

Trouble, trouble, trouble.

The voices were louder now, and the pull was more desperate.

His throat hurt, and for a moment he was convinced his lungs were collapsing before he remembered that he’d forgotten to release the air trapped in his lungs and he couldn’t remember when he’d stopped breathing.

“Danny?” Mr. Falluca said from the front of the room. “Is everything alright?”

He commanded his head to nod, but he wasn’t sure if he succeeded. Maybe he did. He couldn’t check, he couldn’t lift his eyes from the desk.

The voices were too loud.

The dull pang wasn’t so dull anymore.

Trouble, trouble, go now, go now.

The pang was solidifying, taking shape. It was becoming sharper, more urgent.

Go now, go now, go now.

The pokes turned into pricks, threatening to rupture his organs, sending needles down the nerves in his arms and legs. A headache sparked before his eyes and his vision swam.

The voices attacked him from all angles, and fingers brushed against his skin, tugging the sleeves of his shirt towards the window, the ceiling, the wall, the door— anywhere so long as it was away from here. Outside. To the morgue.

Go to the morgue.

Ignore it, be strong. Just ignore it and it’ll go away.

Go now.

No.

Go now, go now, GO NOW.

No, he couldn’t.

The pinpricks finally morphed into one sharp, icy cold knife.

It stabbed his core.

Go now.

He stood from his chair, knocking it back.

Vaguely, he could hear the alarmed cries of his classmates, but he ignored them.

The only thing that mattered was his body. His corpse.

Protect.

A hand grabbed his arm, yanking him back, but he could feel the warmth of the human blood running under its veins and he couldn’t be bothered with human problems right now. Not when he was in danger.

He phased through the grip, and ran out of the classroom. He sprinted down the hall, tearing open the familiar looking door and transforming and taking off into the sky nearly as soon as the sun brushed his skin.

This was different than all the other times his core had tried to coax him to his corpse. Something was wrong. Really, really wrong. His body was in danger, and he needed to save it.

He heard an explosion in the distance, and he increased his speed, feeling his eyes sting as the cool air slapped against his corneas. The world blurred, but it was okay. His core was guiding him now, not his eyes. He didn’t need to see, he just needed to close off and follow his ghostly instincts.

“That’s right!” A deep voice yelled from across the way.

Danny pulled to a halt, blinking the sting from his vision.

Then a boulder flew past his body, hitting the wall of a disturbingly familiar building.

His core yelled in protest. The body was in danger. His body.

“You thought a pesky shield could keep me out? Me, Skulker, the Ghost Zone’s greatest hunter? I’ll show you!”

Ice filled his veins, freezing his aura and building in power around his hands.

Skulker hoisted a parked motorcycle from the edge of the street into the air. “Take this!” he yelled, hurling it into the air.

It was heading straight for the door. It was going to break it, it might break the window, it could damage the body.

An icicle stabbed his core, and before Danny could blink, his hands were raised and jagged blue ice was shooting from his palms, catching the motorcycle in midair and pinning it to the street.

“What is the meaning of this?” Skulker roared, whipping around. His eyes locked on Danny and his confusion melted from this face only to be replaced by a triumphant smirk. “Well hello there, ghost child.”

Danny’s palms burned an even brighter blue. “ Leave,” he hissed, the Ghost Speak slipping off his tongue like butter.

Skulker’s grin widened. “It seems I’ve touched a nerve. Fear not, child, I’m just here to procure your pelt. Well, your other pelt.”

He flashed his aura in a showcase of power that would send most ghosts running for the hills. “Leave.”

A look of contempt replaced the humor on Skulker’s face. His eyes narrowed, and his voice lowered. “I don’t take orders from you, child.”

There was a natural balancing act between his human brain and ghost core, one that ensured that neither half of him was in full control one hundred percent of the time. No matter how human he was, his core still lingered in the background, and no matter how ghost he was, his human brain still kept tabs on his movements.

But now, as Danny watched Skulker rip a slab of concrete from the ground, he felt something snap inside of him.

“Then I have no choice.”

Green overtook his vision, and Danny Fenton simply disappeared.

Time passed—or it didn’t—in swirls of blue and green. If he looked out, he could see the power released from his gloves, he could see the mix of ectoplasm and ice that he was hurling at Skulker, to protect the building, to protect his body, to protect himself from Plasmius.

That vindictive, lonely asshole.

Who was Plasmius to encroach on what was his?

There were flashing lights around him, but Danny paid them no mind. The only thing that mattered was protecting his body.

Protect his haunt.

Protect his people.

Protect.

He could feel the newly pointed teeth pinch his gums, and the ghostly wisps of his hair fizzle around him. But oddly these changes didn’t worry him, instead they made him feel safe, secure. Like a child clinging onto their blanket.

He launched another barrage of attacks at Skulker, tearing holes through his armor. Panic struck Skulker’s features, and all Danny could think of was, ‘good.’ If Skulker wanted to try to claim dominance over his body, then he would suffer tenfold.

And just before he was about to launch a blast at Skulker that was sure to disintegrate his armor, an amplified voice behind him called out, “PHANTOM!”

Danny flinched, his power leaking out of its concentrated ball.

Weak.

“Phantom, stand down!”

Not a chance.

“We have the area surrounded. Stand down or we’ll be forced to shoot.”

“Better listen to your human puppets,” Skulker said, his voice too shaken to sound mocking. “I know when I’ve been bested.”

It took everything in Danny’s power to not launch himself over to Skulker and tear off his head. “You tried to steal my body.”

“That’s a fight between you and Plasmius.”

“Don’t try to get out of this.”

“Phantom,” Detective Johnson said. “Final warning. Stand down.”

Ectoplasm surged throughout his body. “Make me.”

Multiple events happened at once. Skulker motioned to leave just as Danny raised his arms, blistering white light moments away from release. Then, pain seared through his torso.

Danny yelped, jerking his hand back and releasing the ectoblast somewhere off into the sky. He fell back and hit the ecto-shield, sending electrical warnings through his bones.

Memories of the portal, of the thousands of volts of electricity, of the feeling of his bones and muscles and tissues and cells being ripped apart and stitched back together flashed before his eyes. It was too much, all too much too soon too present. He tried blasting the portal but his gloves were splattered with green and oh no, not good, not good.

He was dying, wasn’t he?

Again.

Would he have a second body?

His vision tilted, and finally he managed to rip himself away from the shield. He collapsed onto the cement and stared up at the sky, chest heaving.

He was paralyzed. He knew he had fingers, toes, arms, legs—but they didn’t work. He couldn’t feel anything. Couldn’t fly.

He was dying.

“Phantom?” Johnson’s cautious voice sounded from somewhere off to the side. “Sit up, let’s talk through this.”

There was a pregnant pause, and then Danny finally managed to blink. The world snapped back into focus, and his surroundings came with it. He looked down at his torso to see a little hole in his side of his suit surrounded by a trickle of green.

“What—?” Danny gasped.

“I’m gonna put the gun down, okay?” Johnson said. “I just wanna talk.”

“No.” Danny slowly pushed himself up. He surveyed the damage along the walls, the falling bricks on the sidewalk, the shattered windows and bent door. “No, no, no.”

His body wasn’t safe. Not anymore.

“Phantom, come on. Work with me here.”

But he couldn’t. That detective and his partner were just human, they didn’t understand. This was his body and Vlad knew about it and was trying to take matters into his own hands no matter the cost to Danny.

This was a disaster. He shouldn’t have told Vlad anything. He was so stupid for thinking Vlad could help him. He should have known, should have known.

“Phantom.”

“No.”

The cloak of invisibility covered his body, and he shot up into the sky.

Towards the city.

He needed to end this.

---

Sarah felt the chill first.

“You have to stop,” Phantom’s voice echoed behind her.

She sighed and put down her pencil. “Phantom, I thought I explained this already. The police can’t—”

“I don’t care about the police!”

The room grew cold.

“I don’t...ugh!” Phantom floated around her desk, clutching his forehead with one hand and his chest with the other. Mark had just called her with a warning, saying that Phantom was unstable. Looking at the ghost now, Sarah had to agree.

Phantom looked awful.

Dark circles pooled under his eyes, his hair stuck up in all directions, and his face lacked the green blush that normally sat below his skin. His jumpsuit was burned and dried ectoplasm crusted around the torn edges. He looked every bit the image of someone quickly coming undone.

Except this wasn’t just some random person, this was a powerful ghost. This was someone who could easily kill anyone who wronged him.

Or who he felt wronged him.

Deep down, Sarah knew Phantom wasn’t a violent ghost. It didn’t line up with his ghostly Obsession, or the theorized one anyway. But this was his corpse they were dealing with, it was an extension of himself.

Sarah had never confronted a ghost who had lost possession of their corpse. She’d never dealt with a ghost who willingly protected the shield that kept him away from his body if only to make sure it stayed safe. She’d never seen Phantom look so rattled.

At this point, there was no telling what he was capable of.

“Phantom,” she tried cautiously. “You need to calm down.”

“No, you need to tell your buddies to call off this investigation!”

“You know I can’t do that. I have no control over the department, and even if I did, we need to follow the law.”

His eyes flashed dangerously. “Why, because I’m a ghost? Because my words mean nothing because I’m not human? I’m telling you that I don’t want to press any charges, I don’t get why that’s not good enough!”

The room grew even colder.

“We’ve been over this. Please, Phantom, sit down—”

“No!” he snapped. “I’ve been telling you guys since the beginning that this was a bad idea, that people are going to get hurt! And no, nobody listened to me because I’m a fucking ghost! And now look, the building was attacked! My body was attacked! Do you—” his voice cracked, and the glow on his eyes wobbled. He drifted closer to her. “Do you even understand? Do you get how dangerous this is? Do you understand the people you guys have pissed off? Who you’re playing with now?”

Sarah took a deep breath. Even as a human, the power Phantom was emitting was palpable. “What people? You mean the ghost who attacked the morgue?”

“Not him. He—he’s just a lacky. Just following orders.” He let out a bitter laugh, running his hand over his forehead and smearing green across his skin. “You guys have no idea, you really don’t…”

Dread crept up Sarah’s spine. If what Mark was saying was true, then this could run deeper than they thought. “Explain it to me.”

“I’m…” He glanced up, looking ill. “I’m not…normal. For a ghost, I mean. I can’t explain it. I really can’t. But the other ghosts...they consider me a liability. And now that you guys have my—my body, they’re afraid.”

“Why are they afraid?”

“Because…” His brow furrowed. “I can’t—I can’t…”

She tilted her head, watching the ghost choke on his words. “Can’t, or won’t?”

“It doesn’t matter. They’ll stop at nothing till they get my body back. They’ll kill everyone in that building if it means nobody finds out my secret.”

What secret? Sarah wanted to scream, but she held back.

“Phantom,” Sarah lowered her tone. “Are they the reason you’ve been so afraid of us finding out the truth? Have they threatened you in any way?”

“No!” He backed up in shock. “I—I mean, sort of? Listen, it’s not because of him—them, I promise. It’s more complicated than that. He’s just protecting me, you know? If my secret gets out, that would put them all in danger, but it would put me in even more danger. I wouldn’t...I’d have to leave. I’d be on the run.”

“Why?”

“It’s so messed up.”

“Then tell me.”

She already knew. She just needed him to confirm it for her.

He looked to her, his bright green eyes seemingly desperate for help. But he shook his head. “I can’t do this.”

“Wait—”

But he was already gone.

---

“I’ve never seen him look so scared,” Abrams said.

“So you think he’s right.” Crowley took a long swig of his coffee, “Course you do.”

“It makes sense,” Abrams insisted. “Why else would Phantom be so terrified of people finding the truth?”

“Oh gee, I don’t know, maybe it’s because he’s a teen who was playing with electrical equipment he wasn’t supposed to be near and even in death doesn’t want to get in trouble for it!”

“Yes but how would that explain all the ectoplasm in his DNA? That doesn’t come from just any electric shock.”

“Who knows,” Crowley said. “The Fentons have always been crackpots. Always have had ludicrous theories. Now suddenly when it’s convenient, you’re all running to their side?”

Mark rolled his eyes. “We’re not running to their side.”

“Then what do you call this?” Crowley gestured to the duo. “Sure looks like it to me.”

“You have to admit that it makes sense,” Mark said. “I mean, get real. Doesn’t any of this smell fishy to you?”

Crowley slapped his empty coffee mug on the table. “You know what smells fishy to me? The Fentons are the only known ecto-scientists in this whole damn city, the only people who have lab-grade ecto-equipment in Amity Park, and suddenly right when they were getting into some financial trouble, Phantom appears out of nowhere from a death that reeks of forced ecto-contamination. That smells fishy to me.”

Mark paused, but then shook his head. “If that were true, then why would Dr. Fenton even offer human experimentation as a possibility?”

“To gloat? Gain our trust? Test our intelligence?” Crowley threw his hands up. “Who knows? They’re crazy!”

“So you think we need to investigate them?” Mark asked.

“I’d be a damn shit detective if I didn’t. They have the means and motive to create a ghost like Phantom. It’s just like Maddie said.”

“I think he’s right,” Abrams said, nibbling on her bagel. “If this is actually a case of ecto-experimentation, then the Fentons should be on the list of suspects.”

“Finally, some common sense around here. Just about the only case of common sense these days…” Crowley grumbled.

Mark chose to ignore that comment, instead checking his phone. No notifications, damn. The entire department had been on high alert for Phantom ever since the attack on the morgue. Mark was just relieved that the new and improved ecto-guns had finally been issued that morning. If not for the updated technology, that incident likely would have ended far less smoothly.

Not that it really ended smoothly. Phantom had yet again escaped Mark’s clutches, free to run off and break into Sarah’s home.

Guilt clawed at Mark’s stomach, but he pushed it back. Phantom was a slippery ghost, one that had escaped all levels of ghost hunters from the Fentons, to the Ghost Investigation Ward. Mark knew it would take a lot more than a few words of peace and one ecto-gun to stop that kind of raw power.

“What do we even know about the Fentons?” Abrams asked.

“They’re ghost hunters and mostly make weapons now, but before that they dabbled in all sorts of ecto-based technology. The husband, Jack, is the engineer and the wife, Maddie, is the biologist. They have two kids, Jasmine and Daniel. Jasmine, or ‘Jazz’ is supposedly top of her class, likely to graduate valedictorian, while Daniel’s something else. Bad grades, skips class, all around a bit of a loner,” Crowley said, regurgitating information like he was reading a case file.

Mark glanced at his colleague, giving him an impressed smirk. “Did your homework early, eh?”

“I told you, something aint right here,” Crowley said.

“And? What do you think?” Mark asked.

“What I think is that I’m shocked their house is even coded to have a lab inside. I’d like to know whose ass they kissed to give them that permit.”

Abrams snorted. “Jesus, Jacob.”

“What? I’m right!”

“Fine, whatever,” Mark stood, collecting his empty coffee cup and paper plate. “I godda head home, my sister’s visiting this weekend.”

“Alright, tell Susan I said hello. And say hi to her little demon child too.”

Mark rolled his eyes. “She’s four.”

“What, four year olds can’t be demons? I should know, I had two of them.”

Abrams swiped her empty wrapper and tossed it in the trash. “Yeah, I have to feed Atlas. I’ll see you both next week.”

“Take care!”

---

“Well at least we know Phantom didn’t change anything about his facial structure when he became a ghost.” Crowley’s small eyes swiveled between the photo of Phantom in one hand and the new sketch rendition of his human identity.

Mark grunted and stared at his own copy of the photo.

The corpse had been too decomposed to be able to distinguish a face, and ghosts often change their appearance in death. Sure, Phantom looked like a regular human, but it was impossible to know that for a fact.

Fortunately, modern research and re-composition was advanced enough that they didn’t have to wonder for long. Especially with this being such a high-profile case for the city.

And as it turned out, aside from the hair, Phantom really didn’t look all too different when he was alive. He had the same sharp nose, the same angular chin, the same boyish face. The only thing that was different was his hair and presumably his eye color, although that was still a mystery due to the corrupted DNA.

Even though there was little change to Phantom’s appearance, seeing the black haired, brown eyed human boy staring back at Mark was rather shocking, if he were being honest. There was something off putting about seeing this enigma quite literally brought back to life. It took away that edge of lore that the heroic town enigma had.

Now Phantom wasn’t some wild mystery. He was just...a kid.

“This really is something,” Crowley said. “Guess we should put it to good use.”

Mark sighed, turning his attention back to his desktop. Sifting through missing person’s reports was never exactly a fun way to start the morning.

“You think you can handle it, rookie?” Crowley asked.

“Yeah, I got it. I’ll let you know if I find anything interesting.”

Crowley let the photographs drop to his side. “Alright, I’m going to continue doing some digging on our suspects.”

“Good luck.”

“And you.”

The work was tedious and depressing. Face after face of missing minors flickered across his screen. It was almost too hard to believe that Phantom was a part of this list.

Caucasian. Black hair. Eye color unknown. Five foot five.

That was all they had on Phantom. For all they knew, he could have been from another city entirely.

But hopefully Mark would find a hit, at least one kid from Amity who fit the profile.

And in fact, there were a few...sort of. Four teens who had black hair and were about five foot five. But none of them looked quite like Phantom.

Which meant Mark had to widen his search.

How wonderful.

He leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms out wide. It was nearly lunchtime now and he felt like he’d gotten no further than where he was before. Mark stood from his chair, feeling a bit defeated. Hopefully Crowley would’ve had better luck on the suspect list than Mark.

He strolled over to Crowley’s desk, only to find the desk empty. Crowley had likely already left for lunch, the bastard hadn’t even bothered to grab Mark on the way.

Not that Mark could really blame him. He doubted Crowley wanted to use his lunch break to talk about the case after the tedious research they both had spent their mornings doing.

Mark dug his phone out of his pocket, intent on sending the older detective an update, when he stopped. Out of the corner of his eye, a familiar face stared up at him.

Mark slowly lowered the device and crept toward the desk, as if his mere presence would disintegrate the paper on his desk.

Inside Fentonworks: the Fenton family’s home-grown anti-ghost business!

It was an article printed from some online magazine that Mark didn’t recognize. Slapped on the cover of the page, just under the title, was a photo of a family of four beaming, waving at the camera. One of the members was a young boy—about Phantom’s age—with black hair in almost the same haircut as Phantom, with that crooked smile that Phantom had been caught adorning all too many times.

Waving at the camera.

Skinny, short for a boy, son to two ecto-science parents who fill their basement with dangerous high-voltage and easily combustible ecto-technology.

His name was listed as Daniel.

Mark glanced at the two images in his hand, and then looked at the article below him.

Holy shit.

No. There was no way. Crowley had been suspicious of them, and he had good reason to include them on his suspect list, but this kid was alive. He wasn’t missing, he wasn’t dead, he was standing right there.

It just wasn’t possible.

His apple watch pinged, alerting him of a ghost attack nearby.

Mark hurried back to his desk, swiping his coat off his chair.

This was impossible.

The police sketch and the copy of the article pressed against his fist.

Phantom was a ghost. Ghosts will do anything to protect themselves. They would lie, cheat, and manipulate humans in order to stay on top.

Mark was just seeing things.

There was no way that this was him.

He beelined for the door, tucking the papers into his pants pocket.

It wasn’t possible.

The drive there was short, and the fight even shorter. It had just been the Box Ghost, so nothing that Phantom couldn’t handle. The ghost gave his little song and dance, captured the ghost, and waved brightly to the crowd. But Mark could see right through it, right past all the cracks in his façade.

Phantom was losing it.

And Mark could end this.

“Phantom!” Mark called out through his cupped hands.

The ghost flinched, his cheery face replaced with a scowl instantly.

“Another time,” he said.

But Mark didn’t have another time. He needed to know now.

Because Phantom could end this insane proposition. He could laugh heartlessly at the mere mention that he was this random living child. He was Phantom, protector of Amity Park, not some human experiment.

Not some impossibility.

Not some kid who’s been dead for a year and only pretending to be human for his family.

Not the greatest act of manipulation from a ghost that Mark had ever seen.

Mark yanked the papers from his pocket and unfolded them with shaking fingers. He held them up hastily, knowing that they were too far away for normal human eyes.

But this was Phantom. He wasn’t human.

Mark saw the exact moment that Phantom recognized the photos. The ghost’s eyes widened, his face paled, his aura dimmed. Then, in the blink of an eye, the ghost vanished.

Mark was right.

---

The air was thick, tense. Phantom slumped in his armchair, his body the equivalent of a white flag. Even so, his eyes were bright, charged with nervous energy.

He was terrified.

Atlas must have sensed this, because the dog had decided to break away from being Sarah’s shadow to lay against the ghost’s feet.

“I don’t know where to start,” Phantom admitted after a few tense beats of silence.

“The beginning, maybe,” Jacob said.

Phantom looked sick at the suggestion, but relented. “You’re right. Yeah...I…” he glanced up at the two detectives and Sarah seated across the coffee table on her dull green couch. Phantom had appeared in her kitchen not even an hour ago, looking like he’d just seen the personification of death itself.

And instantly, Sarah knew.

She’d tried to coax him to let her bring him to the station so he could come clean there, but he refused. He said the information was too sensitive and he didn’t trust the station to not have cameras recording every angle of every room.

And so they settled on her living room instead. Mark and Jacob arrived, seeming none too surprised by the arrangement, and more than willing to follow Phantom’s direction if it meant they would finally get the truth.

Which Phantom didn’t seem remotely ready to give.

“I guess…” He tried again, closing his eyes. There was another tense moment of silence before a pair of white rings appeared around Phantom’s waist, traveling up his body and leaving behind a skinny black haired teenager.

Phantom cautiously opened his eyes. And, to Sarah’s surprise, they were blue.

“You’re Daniel Fenton,” Mark said.

She heard Jacob suck in a breath.

“Yes. I’m Danny Fenton.” Without the echo, his voice sounded much closer, much more down to earth than Phantom’s. “And a year ago, I was in an accident.”

His voice, like the rest of him, seemed softer without the powerful aura of Phantom behind it. If Sarah had passed him on the street, she wouldn’t have blinked twice. Gone was the cocky personality, the perfect posture, the floating white hair, the bright, determined expression. Gone was the jumpsuit, the logo, the strong voice that seemed like it could project for a mile, the banter, the confidence.

It was just a kid. A kid with baggy jeans, dirty shoes, and a plain shirt. He didn’t seem lithe, he looked weak. The green undertone to his skin was replaced with red, and his shoulders hunched in a way Sarah had never seen on Phantom before.

“What happened?” Mark asked.

“When my parents first completed their interdimensional ghost portal, it didn’t work. I decided to—it was my fault. I just decided to go in it. I don’t know why.” He looked up to the ceiling. “It was a stupid idea. The portal was plugged in, but there was a switch inside that wasn’t turned on, and I tripped over a wire and turned it on. From the inside.”

Sarah felt a pang in her chest. “That’s horrible.”

“Yeah. It was,” Phantom agreed. “And then I guess the portal stabilized the connection between Amity Park and the Ghost Zone, because ghosts started appearing in town. So I decided that if it was my fault that they were here, I was going to protect the town. And that’s what I’ve done.”

That’s his Obsession, Sarah realized. It’s protection.

“Why not come out with it?” Jacob asked. “Why bury your body? Why still try to pass as a human?”

Phantom’s head fell into his hands. “I didn’t know what else to do! It—I...you have to understand, my parents would never understand. They think all ghosts are evil. I couldn’t just come out and tell them what happened, they’d kill me!”

“So you decided it was safer to play human,” Jacob said.

“Yeah. I guess I did. Especially since...I sort of still am?” He lifted his head and stuck out his wrist. “I still have a pulse.”

No one moved.

“You’re shitting me,” Jacob guffawed.

“No, I’m being serious. The portal killed me, but then it brought me back to life. Except by then my body was already altered from the ecto-electricity, so the working theory is that I exist in this sort of limbo state between dead and alive. Hence why…” He transformed into Phantom and then back to Fenton. “Hence why I have two forms.”

“And the body,” Mark said. “The coroner report said it only weighed a little over half the weight of a normal body due to all the ectoplasm. But if you’re half alive, how would you have a body?”

Danny shrugged. “I don’t know? To be honest, that day was such a nightmare that I’ve mostly blocked it out.”

Mark finally reached over and took the boy’s wrist. He pressed two fingers against the skin and waited.

“Damn.” His eyes widened. “It’s actually there.”

“No way,” Jacob said, leaning over to take Phantom’s wrist. A few seconds passed before he was joining Mark’s reaction. “It is there.”

“I know.” Phantom tucked his arm back to his chest. “I don’t understand it. I have a heart and also a ghost core. I can feel it all the time, even as a human. I have human thoughts and feelings and ghostly instincts playing constantly.”

As confusing and morbid as this was, it made sense in a sort of twisted way that Sarah only reserved for the rambling logic of her paranoid, senior grandmother. It explained why Phantom, a ghost, would willingly risk himself day in and day out over the safety of humans. Phantom was a ghost who was driven to protect his home, and he was also a human who wanted to look after those he loved.

He was truly Schrödinger’s cat. Dead and alive inside his little box, his little town, with no one able to measure him.

“That’s the thing that sets you apart from the ghosts,” Sarah said, tapping her knee with her finger. “That day when you came to my house saying that you were different, this is what you were talking about. You also said it would be dangerous if this information got out.”

The question was implied, and Phantom seemed to pick up on it, judging by his grimace.

“You weren’t talking about your parents.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“So then who is it? Who was trying to destroy the morgue? Who are you hiding from?”

Danny crossed his arms and glared at the floor. “Isn’t it obvious?” he said bitterly. “The government. GiW, all of them. Think of what they’d do if they knew someone could be both dead and alive at the same time.”

“Well fuck the lot of them,” Jacob said.

“Yeah,” Danny agreed.

“And the ghost who was trying to take down the morgue?” Mark pressed.

“I…” Danny’s eyes shifted. “I can’t say. It’s a ghost thing. All the ghosts in the Zone know about me, they call me a halfa. Half alive, half dead. Honestly, I don’t think it took much convincing for them to want to protect me.”

“But you were fighting against them,” Jacob countered. “If they were really trying to protect you, then why not go along with them?”

Danny opened and closed his mouth, the words seemingly stuck in his throat. Words from Maddie’s ecto-biology papers fluttered across Sarah’s eyes, about how ghosts were evil, they were liars, they’d say and do anything to keep themselves safe.

But as Danny let out a defeated sigh, his arms uncrossing to dangle at his side, Sarah couldn’t help but see the face of a scared teen who was just doing his best.

“It’s a ghost thing,” he finally said. “I didn’t like what they were doing because...because I needed to protect my body. If the building collapsed, it would have gotten damaged.”

Sarah blinked, and her and Mark exchanged a glance.

“I see,” Mark said carefully. “So if there was a plan to recover your...body...safely, you would have gone along with it?”

“I don’t know. Ghosts are weird, they all have their own agenda. I’d rather if it were just...left alone. In the ground. Untouched. Like it had been.”

They were silent for a moment, and Sarah watched as Jacob and Mark stared at each other in silent conversation. One that only partners could properly understand.

Finally, Jacob relented. “Okay, here’s the deal. Say I go talk with Chief Davis and he agrees to keep your identity secret. In exchange, all you’d have to do for us is tell your parents.”

For a moment, Sarah thought Phantom was going to bolt out of the armchair.

“Why?”

“Because you’re screwing around putting your life in danger every day, kid,” Jacob said. “Not to mention, your parents’ house is a walking minefield for you. You godda protect yourself.”

“I protect myself just fine.”

“Doesn’t dismiss the fact that you’re running off getting in fights every day with ghosts, and then coming home to a house littered with ecto-weapons that could kill you. You know, all the way.”

“My parents will kill me if they find out though,” Danny said darkly. “You don’t know them.”

“Which is why you won’t be alone. Crowley and I will be there with you. And I know a woman in CPS who can keep this on the down low too. We won’t let anything happen, promise,” Mark said.

Phantom glanced between them, his wide blue eyes betraying just how fearful he was. “You promise?”

“Yeah kid, we got your back.”

---

“It’s going way better than I thought,” Danny said, throwing the stick up the path.

Atlas didn’t hesitate, bounding after the object with an enthusiasm rivaled by no one.

“I’m glad,” Sarah said. “You deserve a safe place to go home to.”

Danny cocked his head. “Yeah. I guess I do.”

Getting to know Danny these past few weeks was surreal. For a year now, Sarah had a set mental image of who Phantom was. The hero, the great protector, the thrill-seeker.

But now, as she got to know the quiet yet snarky kid who went to school and stressed over his math exams just like any other teen would, she’d gotten to appreciate the person that Danny truly was, the person he became when he wasn’t trying to hide his ghostly persona or playing the larger-than-life character.

Atlas pranced back, the stick held high like an Olympic medal.

“Good boy!” Danny praised.

At Sarah’s nonverbal command, Atlas dropped the stick in front of Danny, who was more than happy to pick it up and hurl ahead of the dirt path again.

“It’s weird. It’s almost like...I don’t know, it’s just kind of relieving? To not need to hide? Like don’t get me wrong, my parents are still kinda weird about it. I still don’t really use any of my powers at home because I just don’t think I’m ready. But the other day I used intangibility to get a cup out of the cabinet instead of just opening the cabinet door, and my mom didn’t even say anything. I remember back when I first got my powers and I couldn't figure out how to work them. I spent so long trying to hide any weirdness, and to think that now I can just do stuff and nobody cares.” A blissful smile dressed Danny’s lips. “It’s just nice, is all.”

“I bet,” Sarah said. “Must be a huge weight off your shoulders. And your sister’s okay with it?”

“Oh yeah. My sister actually already knew about it.”

“You’re kidding. Really?”

Danny threw the stick again. “Yeah, but I already knew about that. She told me a few months ago. But she’s been really helpful at home with trying to get everyone on the same page.”

“That’s good.”

“And my dad’s already been begging to take me out to the field with him.”

“Have you taken him up on it?”

“No. Not yet.”

Sarah peered cautiously over to him. “Why not?”

“I dunno.” Danny’s eyes tracked Atlas’ triumphant return from the woods. “It just seems a bit weird still. And besides, it would be kinda odd if my parents went from trying to kill me to suddenly Phantom’s new best friend overnight. For now they’ve agreed to a public truce.”

Ah yes, the truce. That had been all over the news when the Fenton’s announced it, citing new research into ghost psychology that showed instances of benevolent ghosts. The news had rocked the city, some calling the duo crazy, while others praising them for their growth.

Even though Phantom and the Fenton couple were still in the growing pains of their new truce, no one could deny how much more smoothly ghost fights had gotten since it began. There was less property damage, less citizen’s hurt, and overall the process seemed far more professional than it ever had.

“I’ve noticed a change,” Sarah said. “I really think it’s for the best.”

“So do I. Even though it’s still kinda weird.”

“It’ll get easier, just give it time.”

Atlas dropped the stick, apparently distracted by some scent on a bush. He stopped to sniff the plant before wandering behind it, his nose glued to the ground.

“Wait, Atlas—” Danny started, watching as Atlas disappeared into the foliage.

Hearing his name, the dog leapt back onto the trail and over to Danny, who paused to scratch him behind his ear. “Good boy.”

Sarah grinned down at the duo.

Who knew a cadaver dog and a half dead kid could make such a good pair?

---

Thanks for reading!

#danny phantom #my writing #morge #invisobang #invisobang 2021

[badassbuchanan]

Call for Assistance

Request: Hi hi! Idk if you write for Seb or not but if you do, maybe could you do a fic where reader is his assistant and sometimes that means assisting him with ~those~ needs 👉👈🥺

Warnings: smut; oral (male receiving), dirty talk, semi-public.

Word Count: 2246

a/n: I’m sorry the ending is so cheesy lmao - requests and taglist are open!

“There you are.” I smiled brightly as I walked into Sebastian’s private dressing room, throwing my Gucci purse on to the velvet armchair in the corner of the room.

Tonight he was a special guest on The Tonight Show starring Jimmy Fallon, it was one of the only talk shows he didn’t mind doing. Tonight’s appearance was part of the publicity schedule for new The Falcon and The Winter Soldier series, but unfortunately, Mackie wasn’t able to attend.

I knew how nervous Seb got doing these interviews without his colleague beside him, which is why I wasn’t surprised when I was beckoned to his dressing room before he was set to go on.

Seb turned from where he was preping himself in the reflection of the mirror, a smile of relief appearing on his face when he saw me.

He was sporting a simple crisp white shirt, buttoned up with a navy tie around his neck. A black, open suit jacket and matching pants hugged his body nicely, complimenting his skin tone. His hair was slicked back and I could tell he hadn’t shaved today just by the slightest bit of stubble growing through his face.

“You feeling okay?” I asked innocently, walking over to stand in front of him as I patted down his chest to get rid of any dust which may have settled there.

His whole week was a full of press interviews and I knew exactly how much he’d be dreading it. He worked himself up and overthought everything, and he got real touchy when he was nervous.

Sebastian wrapped his arms around my waist softly, head dropping as he whined into my neck. I chuckled lightly, unable to hide the smile which covered my face as I ran a hand through his hair lightly. “It’s just part of the job, you know that. and you love your job.”

“Why do you have to be right all the time?” He mumbled against my skin, a smile curling on his lips in amusement. Seb leaned his head back against the wall behind him, peering down at me with a cheeky smile.

He looked fucking hot. Too hot.

“Because one of us has to be.” I raised an eyebrow and smiled up at him in admiration, my chest pressed against his as I played with the back of his hair, careful not to mess it up.

I could smell his aftershave and it was intoxicating. “C’mere.” He gestured me closer with his head, causing me to move my face closer to his. “Help me relax.”

Seb took my lips with his, kissing me softly as he pulled my hips forward to rub against him.

I nodded as I kissed him back softly, tilting my head to give him more access. I part my lips slightly, letting my tongue gently run over his bottom lip.

Seb let out a grunt that vibrated from his throat, taking the lead as he glides his tongue teasingly into my mouth.

I let my other hand glide up touch his chest over the steamed shirt, feeling the definition of body. I sighed in satisfaction, deliberately palming over his nipples as my hand moved across the material of the shirt.

Sebastian moaned into my mouth, his kisses passionate and needy. It soon became too much, my clit twitching when I felt his hard cock pressing against my body.

I leaned my head back, my eyes dropping to the space where our crotches are rubbing together. I noticed his big cock straining against the material of his pants, desperate for attention.

“You like it when I touch your nipples, hm?” I asked sweetly, my hand roaming further down his chest to his toned stomach.

“Yeah.” Seb let out in a desperate grunt, his hips bucking to mine as I leaned in again, this time leaving gentle kisses down his neck.

I let out a little whine, causing vibrations to erupt against the skin of his neck. “Seb.” I nipped at his sensitive skin, feeling him buck his hips again as I moved my hand to the waistband of his pants.

Seb’s hands moved up to my waist, over my back and around to my tummy, just under my boobs as he gripped on the black lacy material of my top. “Off.” He whined with a pout.

“I can’t, bub.” I sighed sadly, pouting back as I used the pet name to soften him up. I skilfully unbuttoned his pants before lowering my hand inside, feeling my way into his underwear as I looked up into his gorgeous eyes. “It’s a bodysuit.”

Sebastian whined again out of frustration, unable to get what he wanted before he came up with the perfect solution. He tugged on the material each side of the low cut ‘v’ shape between my cleavage, adjusting it so that it rest under either side of my boobs, my tits now on full display for him.

“That’s better.” Seb smiled proudly, satisfied with himself as he cupped my tits in his hands, massaging them as my nipples harden under his touch.

My fingers wrapped around his cock as I kissed the base of his neck, pumping him slowly whilst collecting precum from his tip. Seb was big, but he looked even bigger with my tiny hand wrapped around him.

I leaned back with a smile, watching him play with my chest as his eyes focused on my tits. He tugged harshly on my pebbled nipples with his rough fingers. I bit my lip, fucking his cock with my hand as I felt myself getting wet.

I moved my lips millimeters away from his, our breaths meeting as we pant against each other. “M‘not gunna last, darling.” Seb whimpered out, his eyes looked up to gaze into mine.

“S’okay,” I squeak out reassuringly, lust taking over as my palm feels every vein on his cock. “You feel so good in my hand.”

“I wanna cum in your mouth.” Seb admitted in a mumble, his hands tugging on my sides to pull me down. I knew he was getting desperate from the way he was starting to talk dirty.

I kept my hand wrapped around him inside his pants as I got down on my knees in front of him. I shuffled close to him, Seb helped push his trousers down, out of the way, so that his cock could spring up freely.

I licked my lips, wasting no time guiding his tip towards my mouth with my hand. I kissed his leaking tip, swirling my tongue around it as Seb gasped loudly at the feeling of my hot mouth on him.

I hummed around his tip, still pumping his shaft with my hand as his hands moved to the back of my hair, guiding me further down on him.

Seb’s eyes closed tightly, a hiss escaping his clenched jaw as I replaced my hand with my mouth, taking him all in.

I moaned around his length, trying not to choke as I breath shallowly. My hands rested on his thick thighs, saliva escaping the corner of my mouth as I wait for him to take control.

But he doesn’t, he’s too fucked out, too close to even move. I could tell by the way his chest was rising and falling so uneven, trying his best to keep it together. Sweat was building on his forehead and above his parted lips, his eyes only opening when I started to bob my head up and down his length.

I flattened my tongue, relaxing my throat so I could fuck his cock with my mouth. I looked up at Seb, eyes so hooded he almost looked drunk, his hands dropping from my head weakly as his head dropped back against the wall behind him.

His eyes were fixed on the ceiling, he didn’t want to cum. It felt too good. He loved the way my lips felt so soft moving up and down his length. My mouth so warm and welcoming for him.

It sent me crazy seeing him like this, desperate to make him cum, to please him. I swallowed around his length, keeping him deep inside as my tongue flicked rapidly against the underside of his shaft.

My fingers traced ever so slightly over his balls, immediately causing him to cum with one final moan, spilling his load into my mouth. I pulled my head back, opening my mouth wide as he shot every single drop of his cum inside.

I watched his cock twitch, his eyes now glued on my mouth as I swallowed all of him.

Seb tried to calm himself down as I stood back up, tucking my boobs back into my top before helping him re-do his pants back up, his cock safely inside.

“You relaxed now?” I asked softly, looking up into his blown out eyes as he admired me with a nod.

“So relaxed.” Seb leaned in to mumble against my lips, making me smile against him as my arms wrapped around his neck.

“I’m glad to hear it, mister.” I replied sweetly, pecking his lips over and over.

“Mr Stan.” A voice called from beyond the door, startling us both with how loud they knocked.

“Mmh, maybe I’m still a little stressed.” Seb mumbled between kisses, making me giggle at the audacity he had to ignore whoever was knocking.

“Sebastian!” I used his full name to notify him of the seriousness of the situation, leaning my head back as I smile up at him in adoration.

“You’re on, Mr Stan.” The person decided to call out again anyway, hoping that someone inside would be paying attention.

“Guess it’s showtime.” He pouted slightly, stealing another kiss before he let go of me. “Thanks for coming to see me.”

“Thanks for coming.” I respond with an innocent smile, my cheeky comment catching Seb’s attention as his head swings around with a smirk.

“Just you wait till I’m done with this interview.” He shook his head, chuckling in amusement at my remark as he opens the door, taking one last glance back at me, which was when I noticed it. My heart sunk.

“Oh wait, Seb-“ I called out but it was too late. He’d gone. I didn’t get to tell him. Oh well. No one would notice right? Not a single one of the national viewers would notice the lipstick on his lips and neck, right?

———————- LIVE ON THE AIR ————————

“So Sebastian, we’ve talked about the new show, the friendships and behind the scenes mayhem, the travelling, even the amount of lube needed to get into your costume.” Jimmy cracked the joke as he started speaking, crossing his arms as he lent back in his chair.

“That’s right.” Seb nodded shyly, speaking unnecessarily to amuse himself with a little smirk as he became more comfortable in the interview.

“But one thing I think everyone is dying to know,” Jimmy continued, building suspense as he swivelled in his chair towards the audience, gesturing for them to nod in encouragement.

“Okay.” Seb dragged the word out slowly, anticipating what it could be as he sat up a little straighter in the armchair. He chuckled nervously, tugging on his jacket to straighten it.

“Is how exactly those lipstick marks on your neck got to be there.” Jimmy said in a wonderfully sarcastic tone, eyebrows raised as the audience cheered loudly.

Seb suddenly stopped all of his movements, trying to keep a straight face as the crowd kept on cheering. He stared at Jimmy, who was now giggling like a little school girl.

Seb caved after a couple of seconds, laughing loudly as he leaned forward to cover his face with embarrassment of being called out.

“And Sebastian,” Jimmy continued as Seb regained his posture, sucking in his cheeks and sitting up straight as he tried to get rid of his guilty smile, faking a frown of concentration.

“Yeah?” Seb answered shyly, letting out a nervous cough as his face twitched back into a smile momentarily.

“I couldn’t help but notice that Y/N is here with you tonight.” Jimmy’s words make my heart drop as a spotlight points me out in the audience.

My eyes go wide, but I can’t help but laugh as everyone cheers loudly. I cover my mouth, watching Seb able to do nothing but clap for me from the stage.

“So.” Jimmy dragged out the word in a high pitched voice. “am I right in suggesting that Y/N might’ve visited your dressing room before the show?”

Seb smirked, rubbing his hand over his mouth, his silence hid nothing considering the fact that his face completely gave it away. There was no point in him denying it.

I covered my face with my hands, utterly shocked that we had been called out on national television.

“Yeah.” Seb let out in a shaky breath, a beaming smile on his face as he chuckled from embarrassment too, his tongue running over his bottom lip.

The audience clapped, screeched and cheered at his answer, making me want to disappear in my chair.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Jimmy called out as the audience continued cheering us on. “Mr Sebastian Stan and Miss Y/N Y/L/N.”

And just like that, the cat was out of the bag. The many rumours confirmed. The many fans who shipped us would be tweeting, we’d probably be trending in an hour. I guess I’d just have to convince his publicist that we did it as a stunt.

I promised myself that after that, I was never going to attempt any kind of sexual activity in a public place again. But I knew that was a lie.

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