DP x DC Prompt #6
Phantom is sitting at the Batcomputer, kicking his legs back and forth. With the seat last set for Batman's height, his feet barely skim the ground. He's propped his head up with one hand, examining something he is holding between his thumb and forefinger in the other.
He is very casual for someone who has never been told the location of the Batcave.
"Phantom," Batman grunts. Phantom doesn't glance his way, likely having heard the Batmobile pulling in.
"Hi Bruce," he says. "I had a nightmare last night."
It's important to note that The Justice League does not know Phantom's true age, although there are several theories:
Theory One: he is a ghost dating back to several thousand BCE. The proof of this is sparse but present, through written record of beings with white hair and green eyes and uncanny likenesses found in artifacts proven to be authentic. Could these truly be Phantom? Yes. However, there is
Theory Two: he is a teenager, as his visual presence suggests. This could be true even if his existence is thousands of years old, as his mentality might not have advanced beyond that of a child aged fourteen to sixteen when they died. This is supported by his general behavior and advanced knowledge of memes. The few times he and Red Robin have interacted, Bruce did not understand a word of it without extensive googling. But worse, of course, there is
Theory Three: Phantom is the age of his first recorded appearance in modern times, only a few years ago. Phantom's recorded appearances in the past were sparse compared to his consistent existence in this century, which could hint at a timestream accident similar to Bruce's own, if they are real. And ultimately, this would not be the first time a two year old presented as a teenager in form.
Two out of three options propose Phantom is a child, and so Batman's tone is gentle when he says,
"Did you?"
"Yeah," Phantom says, words almost a sigh. Whatever is in his hand catches in the lamp light, shining green.
It's kryptonite. Phantom is holding a shard of kryptonite.
"Sorry." Phantom twirls his chair around to face Bruce. He holds the shard out in his palm. "I called you Bruce, didn't I? I know you hadn't told me yet."
"That's okay," Bruce says. He takes the shard calmly, his suit's layered biometrics disguising the fact his heart is racing. He recognizes this chunk from his stores, kept in the secure, deepest, impenetrable section of the cave coded to his DNA alone.
He's been aware Phantom's powers include invisibility and intangibility, but the ghost has been benevolent, honorable, and heroic since introduced and he had allowed his guard to slip. All it would've taken is being tailed one time, and now he must rely on that benevolence.
"And I'm sorry about that," Phantom says, nodding at the belt Batman has tucked the kryptonite inside. It will do nothing to stop Phantom should he decide to pluck it away again, but kept out of sight in a lead-lined pouch still feels safer than out in the open.
"I needed to make a point." Phantom says. The words are threatening but his tone is not.
"Oh?" Bruce asks, wary nonetheless.
"I'm really strong," Phantom says. "I can walk through walls. I can disappear. I can fly. I can blast and freeze stuff. I don't need to breathe. Traditional weapons don't really work on me."
"I can duplicate," a voice says from behind Bruce. He whirls around, batarang in hand, to see another Phantom rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "That duplicate will have all the same powers," the doppelganger says, apologetically. He floats back over to the Phantom sitting on the chair and the two merge.
"I have bad powers too, ones I don't like to use. I can scream at things until they fall apart, even buildings. I can...I can possess people, and make them do things," he admits, unable to look Batman in the eye. "It's not that all ghosts are like this, pretty much all of them aren't, it's just that I'm one of the stronger ones, and I'm only going to get stronger, and the stronger I get, the more powers I might get, and the less weapons even made especially to fight ghosts will work on me."
None of this is phrased as a threat, but rather a confession.
"Why are you telling me this?" Batman asks.
"I had a nightmare," Phantom repeats weakly. He reaches under the computer table and pulls out a purple JanSport backpack, cotton dirty and frayed with use. He unzips the front pocket and pulls out a small plastic baggy. He offers the baggy to Batman, his hand shaking.
Batman takes the baggy, examining the contents. Inside are six tiny little dots. They look like poppy seeds, but held up to the light are a deep purple in color.
"Phantom, what are these?"
"Hemo Prunus," Danny says, eyes stuck on the baggy. He's paler than usual. "Colloquially: blood blossoms. At the time they were grown it was believed they required drops of blood to grow, but a friend of mine who likes plants thinks it's more likely they actually just like a higher quantity of iron in their soil. You know, truths found in witch's tales and stuff like that. I don't know much about their care beyond that but I do know they were grown previously in Salem in the late 1600s, early 1700s during their summer seasons with some amount of success so perhaps you can mimic that environment and go from there. From what I've gathered they're incredibly difficult to grow, but I figure if anyone can do it it's you."
"I'm not exactly the gardening type," Batman says dryly.
Phantom laughs faintly. He looks like he's about to pass out, which should be impossible and is not the correct reaction to gifting someone a rare piece of flora.
"Phantom," Batman says again, slowly. "What are these?"
"They're my kryptonite."
Bruce closes his fist over the bag immediately, taking several steps back to put distance between himself and Phantom. "Are you alright?" he asks sharply.
"I'm fine," Phantom says, waving a hand. "As seeds they just sting a little, like nettles."
That's not the reaction of someone being lightly stung, Bruce thinks. Phantom looks like he needs the chair he's sitting in just to stay upright.
Then the rest of his words click together.
"You're giving me these," Bruce says.
"Yes," Phantom says. "For safekeeping."
"To grow."
Phantom's smile fades. "For safekeeping," he says, looking at Bruce's belt. Where he has stored the kryptonite.
The enormity of what Phantom is entrusting him with hits Bruce like a ton of bricks, and he finally realizes that Phantom is not sick but terrified. He is quietly, deeply, terrified. Bruce also realizes that a reaction like that is not born out of fear of the unknown but is the reaction of someone who has felt the sting of the bee and felt their throat close up. At some point Phantom has felt the blood blossom flower, and the sheer memory of it is enough to make the ghost go almost catatonic with terror.
And he has still handed over the one weapon that can hurt him to the Batman, and told him all he knows on how to make more.
I had a nightmare.
"Is this all of it?" Bruce asks, the question coming out brusquer than intended. Phantom blinks.
"Yes, I'm sorry, that's all I could--yes that's all," he stammers.
Bruce shakes his head. "I mean, does anyone else have access to it? Is anyone else growing this that we should be aware of?"
Phantom can't mask a sudden shudder, his reactions always woefully transparent (pun not intended). "No, that's the last of it. No. No. I don't think," his eyes grow wider, "I don't think so," he whispers, to himself, an attempt at comfort.
Way to go, Bruce, a familiar voice whispers, you just scared the kid harder. Bruce drops the packet on a table beside him and strides forward to put a firm hand on Phantom's shoulder.
"I'll make sure of it," he says. He'll pull Kal in and together they'll make sure, the same way they raided every GiW base across the United States four months prior. Phantom looks up at him the same way he did then, with complete and utter trust.
"Thank you," he says quietly. "But if you do...if you do find any more, promise me you won't destroy it. Promise me you'll keep it, the same way you keep the kryptonite. Please, Bruce."
He's not just asking him to keep it. Another weight finds its place, settling on the Bat's shoulders like the cape he wears. Another contingency for a hero he fears will one day be a dear friend.
"I promise, Phantom."
"Danny," Phantom says, "My name is Danny. A name for a name, right?"
"Danny," Bruce says, heart growing ever heavier. "I promise."
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'𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐦𝐞'
SUMMARY: merry christmas/happy holidays to all the chishiya lovers and alice in borderland fans.. here is my gift you/our tiny fandom.
WARNINGS: smut, oral sex, handjob, kinda ooc chishiya (i'd think he'd be more silent tbh but that's goofy), mirror sex, doggy style, choking, breath play, praise kink, dirty talk, protected sex ya'll!!, fem!bodied reader, ive been crushing on him since the first time i saw him two years ago but tbh.. he got even finer in season two (i think i just get in my bag writing wise when i don't worry about punctuation like the perfectionist i am)
~♤♡◇♧~
"I needed this.."
he stroked your hair and let his head fall back between his shoulders, silky blond hair falling with it.
"needed this so fuckin' bad.."
you looked up at him through your lashes, jaw muscles tightening and drops of tears rolling down your hot cheeks.
"oh shit," he groaned, rough hands forcing your head down further. you clung onto his thighs, gagging as he slowly thrusted his cock deep into your throat. "c'mon, c'mon m'close.. just a bit more, baby."
you dug your nails into his thighs, his thick cock in between your swollen lips muffled your whimpers.. he hissed, thrusts harsher and you were screwed your eyes shut. his balls slapped against your chin as a mix of his pre-cum and your drool rolled down it.
"that's it," he sighed, burying your nose in his dark happy trail as spurts of his cum shot into your throat. "that's fuckin it, baby.."
you whined as he thrusted a few more times before finally pulling your head off of his softening dick.
you coughed, some of his cum caught in your throat while some of it rested in your tongue.
"c'mon stand up," he tilted your chin up. "and swallow the rest of that f'me, won't you babe?"
you frowned, licking your lips and gulping down the rest of his thick cum.. it was slightly salty but nothing off putting.
"shun," you stumbled to your feet with a pout, your voice was raspy due to the pounding your throat had taken. "i hate you—"
chishiya leaned in with a smirk before cupping your cheek. he kissed you deeply, not minding tasting himself as he pushed his tongue into your mouth. you moaned and ran your hands diwn the fabric of his black shirt, slipping your tongue in between his lips. he hummed in surprise but only pinned your body against the wall. the old paintings and candles rattling on the bathroom shelves.
you pulled back with a 'pop' and begged, "please fuck me, shun.."
he glanced up at you through hooded eyes, one hand wrapped around his semi-hard cock. "give me your hand," chishiya ordered and you did so, giving him both instead. "get me hard again, baby."
"m'kay, y'better fuck me good though.." you wrapped both of your hands around his cock and he held one of your hands as well.
chishiya guided you hands up and down, not that you didn't know how to give a hand job, he just wanted to feel you do it first hand. he wanted to feel your hand slid up the twitching base and pump it, tease his leaking tip. he wanted to understand how you understood his body so well when you've barely known him.
the sight of your swelled bottom lip trapped in between your teeth as you pumped his cock until it was stiff and oozing pre-cum all over your knuckles and that sinful look in your eyes..
he loved it.
chishiya wasn't a horny fuck like most people in this new world. he could go weeks without even touching himself 'cause there were more important things to worry about (like figuring out what the hell was going on), but that look, that fucking lustful stare when you figure out how to beat a game— when you first stood next to him on that balcony as chaos ran rampant all around that apartment complex.
you were fucked up..
"damn," he kissed your forehead and you let go of his cock, licking your hands free of his pre-cum. "bend over the sink, i want you to see what faces you make when i fuck you.."
..and he loved it.
you giggled and pushed past him, stepping over your disgarded highwaisted tights. you gripped the edge of the sink, looking at yourself in the cracked mirror. your hard nipples peaked through the fabric of your tanktop and to be honest, you already looked like he had fucked you stupid.
you arched your back and stuck out your ass, chewing on your bottom lip once more as you heard the packet for a condom tear open. you stared down into the sink, water dripped from the broken socket.
chishiya pulled your damp panties to the side, rubbing his thumb teasingly over your drenched slit.
"hurry up, shun—"
you gasped, body jolting forward as chishiya sunk his fat tip into your weeping hole. you gripped the sink tighter, trying to supress your moans so that the others wouldn't hear what was happening from the outside. "shit," chishiya let go of your hip and rubbed your clit while he tried to fit the rest of himself inside.. "i knew i should've fingered you but 'no,' you said 'just skip the foreplay, shun!' now look.. can't fit my cock in your cunt.."
you wriggled your ass against him and whimpered, "I've just been so pent up.. just needed your fuckin' dick, shun, right now.. m'sorry.."
"don't apologize," he groaned as his girthy cock sunk deeper inside of you, splitting you open. "just thank me.."
your knees buckled when chishiya's cock finally rested in your gummy walls.. a long grunt left his lips once he bottomed out, your pussy drooling around his length. the hand that he used to guide his dick in found its way to your throat and he forced you to look at yourself in the mirror.
"number one," he squeezed your throat and you gasped, his cock sliding out and pushing right back into your cunt with much more ease. "you should thank me for saving your ass in games.." he chuckled as you choked on moans with each harsh thrust, your entire body moving foward (the edge of the sink and chishiya's stopped you from going too far)— allowing you to catch a closer look at yourself.
"th.. thank you," you mumbled, soft whimpers escaping your throat. "shun.."
chishiya kissed you jaw, the clap of your ass echoing from wall to wall of the bathroom as his thrusts sped up. his cock drilled into you with no consideration while he pinched and flicked your clit.. and your sensitive nipples rubbed against your tanktop with every bounce of your tits.
"mm shit.. number two," he continued, smiling at your fucked-out expression— eyes foggy, mouth stuck in a permanant 'o' whether your moans came out broken, loud, or slient, and droplets of tears clung to your lashes. "you should thank me for fucking you like i do.. this is a lot of work y'know.." he hummed, those last words more of a groan.
you could feel his heavy breathing tickle your ear and you whined as the tip of his cock plunged deep into that spongey spot in your pussy.
"thank you," you slurred, his grip on your throat now had you gasping. "thank— thank you s'much, shun! you fuck me s'good.."
strands of his blonde hair stuck to his forehead as sweat dripped from the tip of his nose. chishiya groaned, noticing you squeeze your eyes shut and scruch your nose. moans and gasps leaving your lips while you cried.
ah.. you were about to cum.
as cute as you were when making that face, he wanted you to watch yourself cum more than anything.
"eyes open," chishiya murmured, grip loosening to allow you to breathe. "look at yourself, baby.."
you reluctantly opened your eyes.
was the world was ending? yes.
so to get fucked should be on the bottom of your list of priorities, and it was, well until chishiya slid his dick in your pussy and made you look like that for the first time— the definiton of a slut. you didn't understand how he expected and managed to keep your relationship a secret when after every time you both were intimate it ended with you looking a mess.
"shuuunn! m'gonna cum.. let me cum please!" you whined, gasping as he quickly cut off your air intake with just a squeeze.
"number three," his voice was breathy and his thrusts had become sloppy. you both were close. the mirror had fogged up from his pants while you clawed at his hand, a smile curling from your lips. all you coud focus on was breathing and trying to reach your high. "thank me," he grunted as you began to roll you ass back against him. "for leavin' this pussy satisfied.. every," he thrusted deep. "single," he pulled his hips back. "time.."
chishiya buried himself deep inside of you while your entire body shook as your orgasm flooded through your veins. finally, he let you breathe, both of his hands now gripping your hips, as he continued to fuck into you messily.
chishiya hated messes.
but you creaming around his cock didn't count..
at least not in this moment, if this wasn't a quickie, he probably would have punished you for it.
"s'too much, shun," you moaned softly with a sniffle. "m'too sensitive.. can't— can't do it.."
"yes you can, c'mon m'almost there," chishiya hummed against your neck. "make me cum, yeah? only you can, baby.."
you shuddered as chishiya's thrusts came to halt, and he dug his fingers deep into your ass cheeks. then you felt it, the condom filling up with his warm release while he began to fuck you once again but slowly and far more gentle.
"congrats.. you did it," he rested his chin on your slumped shoulder and nibbled on your ear. ".. you look so pretty when you cum, don't you agree?" chishiya taunted you and he pulled out with a groan.
"fuck you.."
"ya just did," chishiya sighed while he watched your panties fell back in place, now covering your fucked-out cunt. "can you walk straight?"
chishiya tied the used condom off and tossed it in the trashcan next to the toilet, stuffing his cock back in the confinments of his boxers. he pulled up his sweats before laying your tights over the edge of the seat.
"your dicks' not that big.." you grumbled.
"answer the question."
"just barely," you replied and chishiya scratched the back of his neck with a frown before he gently kissed your forehead. ".. and that's not going to fix it, y'know."
"i'm aware, but in my defense, i only went that hard because your visa's still good for a while," he explained. "complain all you want but i know you enjoyed it."
"unfortunately for my arguement, as per usual, shun.. you fucked me good.. so,"
you spun strands of his blond hair around your index finger and smiled at him in the mirror.
with that sinful look that drove him insane.
"..thank you."
~♤♡◇♧~
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Somewhere out there in the DC multiverse, there’s a world where Battinson’s parents didn’t die, and he became the Lance Stroll of Formula One racing. Wayne Enterprises has an F1 team, Thomas brought Bruce to races when he was young, they indulged his love of cars until he was winning kart races at 8. He BEGGED to help design the race cars, ended up making a great car, and now Wayne has turned from a midfield team to nearly top three.
You’d think everyone hates Bruce because he’s a nepo baby, but he’s just so nice and smiley (like Lance lol) that everyone loves him anyway. His dad is the team’s chairman and pretty hands-on just like Lawrence Stroll. Fans call Bruce the F1 Princess as a joke since he’s already the Prince of Gotham, but then it sticks, and now everyone makes edits of him with tiaras on every time he makes it to the podium. He doesn’t get it, but he’s not going to complain either. His fans are just silly. (He blushes so much when anyone calls him princess to his face, though. Fight me.)
Bruce still insists on everything being black because it’s his favorite color. It was already mostly black before he joined, but now it’s even blacker. His suit is all black. The car is all black. The helmet is all black. He loves it. He looks just like the dark, regal old money rich boy you’d imagine until he’s smiling and talking about racing. (Imagine a meme with two cars next to each other, one being WE’s. It says: “Bruce’s Car v. Bruce’s Personality.” The other one is covered in glitter obv.) One time, a little girl gives him a tiara that she painted black herself and asks him to wear it if he wins. (He does win. He puts it on at the podium. He’s embarrassed the entire time. The champagne rubs some of the black away. It’s a treasured memory and sits right on top in his trophy case.)
His fellow drivers call him Brucie to tease him. He’s a bit awkward during interviews, but that just makes him endearing. He’s also tall for an F1 driver (nepo baby core) so there’s always jokes about him towering over everyone. One time, he came second to Lewis Hamilton, but you could still see he was visibly standing taller on the podium, and people would not stop making jokes about it. (It was mostly his hair, but you know how Twitter is.) Speaking of hair, it will NOT stay flat. He looks insane every time he takes his helmet off. He could be sweating for hours in there but when he takes the thing off, he looks like he’s through in a tornado. (Again, memes.) He knows so much about car mechanics, even for a driver, and will regularly start talking to other drivers or the press about the tiniest of parts in the engine or break system, unaware that everyone is completely lost. (Also memes about that.)
When he’s 23, he suffers a pretty bad crash. It knocks him out for about twenty seconds, and his mom and dad are ready to pull him completely from the sport, but he refuses to stop, and despite missing a few races to recover—his dad’s still a doctor—he ends up winning the next race and gets to stay.
During his F1 career, it’s pretty much guaranteed that he’ll get fastest laps, but he only gets podium like 40–50% of the time. There’s always drama that apparently Wayne Enterprises is trying to become top three, but they insist that they’re not as competitive. They will always have respect for every team, and it shows. They never join in on protests. They always wish the other teams luck, and they genuinely congratulate the winners. Bruce is always the first to hug the winner :)
Before Bruce joined, the Wayne team was always a midfield team, and they were perfectly comfortable with it. WE had good-looking cars, they designed good-looking cars, and they sold good-looking cars, and F1 was just a way of promoting that. Thomas loved watching the races, and he was happy to see them get podium a few times per season, and that was it.
Until Bruce became their lead driver, and he wanted to really earn his seat, and he wanted to get podium, and he wanted to design a faster car, and he wanted to win, and Thomas Wayne couldn’t say no to his son, and suddenly Wayne Enterprises was inching closer and closer to the front of the grid. Now, they’re still not The Best, but they’re a team that future drivers look up to.
During a season of DTS, Bruce is 27. Netflix films the Wayne episode when there’s a fatal crash in F2, and Bruce was nearby when it happened. He ends up crying on camera for ten minutes. They had to cut almost all of it, but we get the most gut-wrenching confessional about how after he heard the news, in that moment, he didn’t want to be an F1 driver. He admits that if he hadn’t become a driver, he was going to become a doctor like his father, and he wonders if he could have saved the driver’s life if he did that instead. “What am I really doing if I can’t help others? I could have been anything…Maybe being a driver was selfish. Maybe I don’t belong on the track anymore.”
He’s visibly distraught during the moment of silence on the day of the race, but Bruce decided to continue because he wants to make the fans and spectators happy. (That’s his job, anyway. That’s what he does.) Despite getting pole position the previous day, he doesn’t get fastest lap or make it to the podium, but he still gets fourth. He has a long talk with his father away from cameras and calls his mom. The future’s uncertain for a few days until Bruce comes back to training. To finish the episode, he says he’s going to continue driving, even if he might need a bit of time to get his confidence back, and he pledges to one day make the safest F1 car ever seen. Even if it’s part of the risk of being a driver, he doesn’t want to see any more drivers losing their lives to the sport they love.
When he’s around 35 or 40, he retires from Formula One so he can inherit Wayne Enterprises, and he takes his father’s place as chairman of the team. Since he has the time now, he holds up on his promise to make an even safer car—the designs inspiring safer car designs for other teams as well—and they pick out two incredible drivers who end up finally (FINALLY) moving Wayne Enterprises into one of the top three teams. They win the world championship twice in a row before falling back a bit and only winning it every couple of years, but they’re nonetheless fierce competitors. Bruce still has a ton of kids, some of which like F1 just like he does, but he is the only Wayne to become a Formula One driver.
I just think Battinson would love driving for F1 :)
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