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terrence-silver · 9 days

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would you write something about reader who has baby fever but isn’t dating Terry, she works very closely with him, and he starts picking up how much she wants to have a baby

Fringe Benefits

Terry Silver x Reader

—

Each of his future employees got this questionnaire.

It was standard procedure, they said.

Basic inquiries, you supposed. Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing you haven’t encountered before. Qualifications. Education level. Past recommendations. Experience level. Why you wanted to work here in particular. Why you considered yourself a reliable member of a team — specifically his team. Your devotion. Devotion, you thought. What did that even mean exactly? Your marital status. Family. Children. Whether you planned any. What you brought to Cobra Kai. To Cobra Kai’s table, that is. What you could offer. The memory of circling each response on the interview application still lingered in your mind like a hazy fog, more so when you sat opposite of him, separated by a black, sleek work desk, immaculately organized and entirely minimalist to a pristine level; something both disorienting and weirdly comforting about the basic aesthetic layout of the dojo gym grounds and the offices adjoined to it, all blue and red neons, creating a vaguely purple sense of womb-like dimness — Terry Silver’s eyes carefully assessing your application paper right before his gaze shot back up at you, speaking with immaculate distinction, yet with ease, like he wasn’t in a hurry whatsoever. You were merely after the job of a junior intern — a starting position; someone who handles basic paperwork, greets people at the registry, makes themselves useful wherever and however is required of them, still, everything felt like you were aiming after the most important position in the world. Perhaps due to the fact there was nobody here and the place felt liminal. Intense. Like you were given every bit of attention contained in the universe by a single person.

-"Most employers —"-

He begins.

-"They’d consider the responses you circled a professional shortcoming."-

He points his nose at the document next to his tidily clasped hands. You gulp.

-"Reason enough not to give you a job. Hire someone else instead."-

He explains maintaining near unblinking eye contact and part of you, that anxious bit coiling around in your belly was convinced this was a lost cause; he was about to gently tell you you’re not getting the job but that he nonetheless wishes you all the luck elsewhere. The deep sinking of your stomach interrupted only by the sudden tenderness in his features overcast by a crimson shadow of a halogen ceiling pipe above head; not an expression of pity, but one of possibility. His brows shoot up. This wasn’t standard procedure anymore, to your knowledge. The actual owner of a company conducting interviews so personally. One on one. Usually, it was a manager's manager. A secretary. Someone almost random in the hierarchy of things, giving off the basic impression that these job openings were merely formal and that the empty spots were long since filled and that everyone who came along to these interviews was going to be rejected anyway and they didn’t really care who does the rejecting so long the impression is given they’re actively searching for new staff. But, this guy? His personal investment in this almost daunted you. Was this some sort of marketing trick for his newly opening dojos? To make him seem relatable? Approachable? Humble enough to do this himself?

-"But, me? Cobra Kai?"-

Terry Silver’s stare flickers with delight.

-"I actually see it as a perk!"-

He smiles with a weird innocence, momentarily distracting you from the fact you still had no clue what part of your application elicited such a positive surprise in him. You supposed you just had to go ahead and ask. Something about him instilled a sense of amicable disposition in you.

-"What do you mean, sir?"-

Before the question even passes over the threshold of your mouth, his index finger extends forward, landing precisely on the circled answer about whether or not you plan on getting pregnant any time soon. Your eyes meet. -"Kids."- He’s suddenly serious, chewing that word like it was a morsel intended to be juiced. -”You want them.”- He adds flatly and you weren’t certain if it was an accusation, praise, a mere statement or something he wanted you to further explain yourself on. His finger holds your circled answer hostage, refusing to move from the paper’s surface. Holding it there so long you had ample time to notice the sapphire pinkie ring finger on his hand. -"Says it right here."- He further assesses and once again, it was so hard to read him. His meaning. If he was pleased by this or not. You choose the best policy to appease him regardless of his mood; by being centrist and entirely politically correct. Trying to say everything and nothing. You really needed this job. You didn’t want to flunk it just because your circled an application answer that implied that maybe, perhaps, just maybe, you’d have kids. -"Well, one day, yes. Sure. Not right now, but I’m leaving my options open for anything. Everything."- You shrug, going for honesty of the most inoffensive kind. He actually flashes you a smile full of teeth. His whole face smiling with him in a net of wrinkles. It hits you then that in spite of his age, he was quite handsome. In fact, his age enhanced him. Made him seem warm. Paternal. Well lived. -"Good."- He coos at you, content. -"Because we’re all about devotion here. Dedication. Working with young people. Investing in the future."- There it was. That slightly baffling word again. Devotion. You say nothing. Choosing to listen instead. Avoid weakening your chances here. The fringe benefits were quite stellar from what you’ve discovered. Amazing healthcare, for one. -"And someone who sees a major plus in having kids of their own? That’s exactly the type of people we need. Means they’re built from the right kind of stuff."- A flash of determination overtakes his features and for a moment, you see him grit his teeth. -"I see."- You fill the gap between dialogues with a filler line and he chuckles, somewhat amused, catching you doing it. This place. Disorienting in spite of the AC unit nowhere to be seen, yet you could feel the cool air blowing in from somewhere from within this state-of-the-art, hypermodern setting where every utility seemed tactically hidden.

-"Don’t you wanna know what kind of stuff the right kind is?"-

You catch a hint of teasing in his tone and you find yourself slightly embarrassed, nodding wordlessly.

Felt like a child examined in class.

-"The type who’s prepared to dedicate their life to something greater than themselves. A belief. A creed. A legacy."-

He enlightens you.

You could guess what the dojo’s philosophy more or less was in vague terms — it was a dojo, after all and the man in front of you was a triple black belt Sensei in his own right and a Vietnam war vet from what you’ve heard, but you weren’t here to lay down life and limb to larp The Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon with anyone. You just wanted to do paperwork for a decent salary with your employer imbued with the knowledge, that hey, he might have to organize paid maternity leave for you and find a replacement for you in case that ever actually happens. Figuratively, of course. You maintain a serious composure, feeling something you weren’t supposed to feel; scared. Curious. Interested. The fervor with which he spoke? You cross your legs underneath the table and you could swear, for the briefest of moments, Terry Silver’s eyelids flutter down, towards your seat, catching you do it. -"I’m not that impassioned, Mr. Silver. I’m sorry. I just don’t mind the idea of having children one day, in the near or distant future, when all the puzzle pieces fall into their place, if all the puzzle pieces fall into their place, and I’m willing to be transparent enough about it within the context of a work place environment so no surprises happen, is all. I’m not raising the next Spartan army, though. Hope that isn’t a disappointing answer."- You find yourself shrugging once more, this time on instinct, keeping calm, wondering why on earth you were justifying yourself so badly anyway. Sure, you did a basic Google search on this place. And on him. Terry Silver didn’t have any children of his own in the first place. No marriages under his belt either. You almost expected bigwigs like him to have several of each. You weren’t judging, you just felt it was peculiar. He was more than good looking too. So, why was this such a huge topic, anyway? Was this even allowed? He kept the questions about your qualifications to a minimal and then — he laughs, apparently delighted by your response.

-"Oh, not at all!"-

He shakes his head, blue eyes practically shimmering.

This felt like one of those weird dreams people tended to have; the type that were almost entirely inexplicable.

-"Cobra Kai isn’t going to let you go or terminate your contract or penalize you if anything unexpected happens. Not my policy. We take care of our own."-

The tension in your back drops hearing that, almost as if a certain weight was lifted from them.

For a man, Terry Silver was as understanding about maternity as a woman would be.

And then he cocks his head to the side.

-"Wouldn’t be very fair play and Spartan if we didn’t, would it?"-

Clearly, your comment entertained him enough for him to repeat it back to you, producing a new piece of document from a drawer and setting it down in front of you alongside a sleek, perfectly jet black pen. Everything here was black. His suit. His desk. His walls. His floors. His ceilings. You weren’t certain if there were any windows. Difficult to tell. Amidst all that neon lit darkness, the pristine white paper stands out, almost burning. A white block of ice. Matching his pale face and gray hair, briefly resembling a clay death mask. -"Just one last form to fill. Right here. Some final questions and you’re as good as set. Monday sound good?"- His finger points once again, down the dotted line, spilling out information so fast that it took you a second to register the fact he was effectively letting you know you got the job while you were too busy looking at what his finger was showing you on yet another questionnaire, your eyes falling on the first of many inquires. One in particular catching your notice, causing your breath to hitch.

- DO YOU TAKE BIRTH CONTROL?

—

You weren’t certain how you ended up in Terry Silver’s bed.3

All you knew is that you wanted to.

It was so easy.

Too easy.

It began with a deep yearning; observing a class for students between ages 3-5 five taking their first steps in Kata on the studio’s mat and Terry doing circles around the dojo, assessing their stances, their movements, how they held their tiny arms, their tiny bodies, the enthusiasm in their eyes. His voice was in your ear once he did a full spin throughout the length of his own domain, encompassing everything like a satellite, keen eyes missing nothing, finding himself next to you and your place at the counter, checking filled application forms and the schedule of classes, while fists punched through the air in unison. Exactly thirty two young students working like perfectly tuned clock work. Funny how kids that small could achieve such discipline. Your heart almost ached. -"Natural, raw talent. Gotta start when they’re young."- He chuckles from next to you, observing his handiwork from a relative distance, giving his small acolytes time to spread out. -"Don’t you just get emotional watching them train?"- His eyes dazzle your way, accompanied by a smile and something within your twists as you nod wordlessly, keeping your attention on your folders and files, suppressing the voice inside of you.

Yeah, wish I had my own, it says.

The months that ensue get harder. It was always the opposite for everyone else, you supposed. The more time they spend at a place of employment, the more the novelty wore off and things tended to settle into their place, but you? You grow restless, leaving the toilet having recovered from an unbidden fit of tears during your lunch break, possibly the second such concealed outburst within just one work week alone, finding no particular reason as to why it happened. Why it kept happening. Nobody was unkind to you here. Quite the contrary. Everyone was like a newfound friend or family, but maybe that’s what made things so difficult; the fact that when you went home every evening, you’d find yourself all alone with nobody to care for. You didn’t even have time to tend to a pet. A cat. A dog. And this wouldn’t be the only occasion he’s cornered you on the topic either. Terry Silver had this uncanny ability to decipher you as upset regardless how craftily you sought to hide it and continue with your work. -"I know what bothers you and I can help."- He corners you in the empty foyer. One thing you learned about him with certainty that he had this habit of invading people's personal spaces. Invading your personal space. Standing too close. The most baffling thing, though --- how much you didn't mind, even as you kept your head bent, gaze averted. You didn't want him to see how obvious it was that you cried even though were certain he guessed.

In spite of that, you fail to recoil once his hand lands on your stomach.

He's done this before. You've let him.

-"Fill the gap right there."-

He whispers and it sends a shiver down your spine.

He came with a proposition a few weeks ago and suddenly, all those peculiar inquires on the job interview questionnaire started to make an awful lot of sense. Too much, in fact. He wasn't just being nosy and scoping out whether or not you'd get impromptu pregnant and leave your own spot vacant for God knows how long. No. It was infinitely more than that. He told you that if you had an itch, he was lending himself available to scratch it. You still haven't given him a yes or no answer on the topic, though and by the looks of it, the devil has come to collect his dues. -"I’m sorry, Mr. Silver, I —"- You stutter, going for avoidance, trying to wiggle out from the closeness of his proximity, but his arm comes up leaning against the wall, cutting your way off. Already, in your mind, you could see tangled limbs, a spine bending forward and his fingers travelling up your back. Instead, you get a voice. His. You inhale sharply once his thumb came up, caressing the outline of your cheek, the slightest remnant of moisture dabbed again by his lingering touch. You weren't sure how to label your relationship with him. Terry had yet another uncanny gift. The ability to make himself disconcertingly close to someone with little to no effort. You've been fucking the man for three months now and god knows why. Why you craved it. Why it felt right. Confusing, but right. Letting your boss hit it raw? What do you even call that? Stupidity? Desire? Falling in love? Being manipulated? -"Ambition requires it’s sacrifices, doesn’t it? Even small, day-to-day ambitions. The ambitions of a Junior Intern. The sacrifice being family. The fact that I can tell there’s no place you’d rather be right now than at home with someone."- His touch touches your earlobe and you close your eyes.

You haven't been doing good lately.

He caught on.

Thing was, you weren't a girl anymore.

You were still young but you were entering that stage in life were every year mattered more and more. Your contract with Cobra Kai alone was one for two years and you imagined it expiring and you once again having nothing. Going home and finding your apartment empty. Would you have time to build something for yourself? Build anything at all? Instead, Terry Silver's arms were right there. Warm. Inviting. So hard to resist. Bearing the promise of everything you that seemed so close, yet so far out of reach.

-"You want me."-

He coos tenderly. You resist, shaking your head, refusing to open your eyes.

-"No."-

-"You want me."-

He repeats himself with more vigor. More conviction.

No. No. No!

-"This is crazy! I don’t wanna get knocked up at work by my boss who’s twenty years my senior!"-

Instinctively, your hands come up feebly, attempting to serve as a shield between your own body and his, only to get caught and trapped by his grip, fingers grabbing wrists, pulling you closer to him. His smile is shark-like. Sharp. -"Thirty."- He corrects with ease, seeming proud of himself. -"Thirty years your senior."- You didn't know what to say to that. Somehow, it made things worse. The guts inside of your belly tighten with ache. You feel it vibrate between your legs. It was hormones. All hormones, you tell yourself. Hormones had the habit of being senseless and dumb like that. Terry Silver was the one giving you your salary, he was old enough to be your grandfather and he was offering to get you pregnant. For your sake, as he claimed. For his own too. You wanted the same things, he explained. So, why not complete each other's long-standing yearnings? Wasn't that what loyalty was all about? What better foundation for an alliance? A relationship, he asked? Suddenly, he lifts his arm, freeing you. -"And why not? You can leave any time. You still haven't."- His eyes flare up with the light of challenge. You were being taunted and tested and you realized as much, finding your body growing stiff, legs refusing to move. So, why didn't you leave? This was technically sexual harassment at the workplace. Yet, you reveled in it. Consented to it. His offer was tantalizing, the way a cup of fresh spring water was to the someone dying of thirst. Your lips part. The thought of having someone completely your own. Cradling them in your arms. Was that so bad? Instead of your belly, the palm of his hand travels lower, cupping you between your legs. -"It would make you happy and you know it."- He murmurs and you didn't have the strength to fight it. You let him continue. He squeezes you ever so lightly, until you felt an internal pressure tickle you from the inside. The type that craved to be filled. -"And I told you the very first day you walked into my office. In Cobra Kai, we’re all about devotion. Taking care of of our own."- He reminds and you lean your head back, allowing yourself to enjoy the sensation, feeling the back of your neck comfortably hit the wall.

-"I didn’t think you’d be so literal!"-

You mutter, breathlessly, letting him do his special magic.

Rubbing you through the material of your trousers.

His cock in his other free hand, pulled out of the thick, black material of his Gi.

-"I’m always literal."-

He clarifies.

You knew as much now.

Knew well enough to take him seriously.

More seriously than anyone before.

You wanted him. Wanted him to knock you up. Crude, but truthful.

-"Let me help you."- He groans, unzipping your trousers, only to spread your legs, slither his hands behind you and grab you by your ass, lifting you up against the wall, fingers digging into tender flesh with bruising ardor. You moan and yelp. Maybe it was you being touch starved, starved for love, in need of sex, missing companionship, but the fact you were about to impale yourself on his cock in the middle of the corridor seemed of little consequence. It was a Friday evening. Past working hours. -"Let me fix everything. All you have to do is be willing to receive it. Receive me."- Terry speaks against your open mouth and you mumble into his, already seeing the future unfold. Feeling it on his breath. The warmth of his tongue. -"I'm willing."- You babble, eyes half-lidded, fumbling with the elastic lace trim of your undergarment, lowering it, giving him entry, feeling yourself wet. -"What was that?"- He teases, tone beaming seriousness, asking you repeat yourself. You do. Anything. You'd do anything. Funny how quickly a person could go from being level-headed and logical to throwing all caution to the wind, you thought. -"I'm willing to receive it."- You almost plead. He pulls back. Momentarily, the warm haze he emanated was lost and you find craving it. Craving it back like nothing you've ever craved before. You could see it so clearly now. His hand tracing the outline of your swollen belly, smiling down at you and unwittingly, your mouth moves with a will of its own. -"Sir."- Terry instructs, unblinking, his cock stroking itself against the lips of your cunt. -"Sir."- You eagerly mimic his words, ready to devour the very air you shared, the distance between you nonexistent. -"You know how some schmucks out there claim they know the exact moment of conception?"- Terry chuckles in between wet kisses, his tip finding it's way between your Labia guided by his hand. You're sloppy, loose and ready for him. -"Well, I always thought that's a load of crap."- He adds, grunting once he nestles himself inside of you, driving you further up the wall, your legs flying up, on either side of his shoulders, held by one free arm. It was astounding how he could expertly hold his balance and your own too and not falter.

He picks up his pace and for once, you smile.

Never in a million years would you think Cobra Kai's workplace contractual fringe benefits would involve this.

-"I just plan to fuck you until I see some tangible results."-

He seethes and now there was a plan you could agree with.

#terry silver #kk3 #cobra kai #old man terry #terry silver x reader #terry silver x beloved #tw; breeding kink #tw; baby fever

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gyarucchan · 1 month

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Requests。。 Open ! ૮ ྀི ◞ ◟ ა 03 ノ 05

Who ? ꒰ྀི . . ꒱ྀིა

im macalo, miyoko or aya! i was the owner of the accounts vamprric,, endingun,, & adoreine! i went on hiatus for all of these accounts at some point because of feeling burnt out by tumblr,, i use pronouns shy/che + xenos, i have bpd, autism, DID && stpd & im a sapphic/lesbian demigirl! im an irl of some other characters, but currently im very attached to my aya oosawa id :3 so er. shy is me & i am hyr

What ? ꒰ྀི . . ꒱ྀིა

i will mainly do editing stuff such as tumblr/twt layouts, rentry templates, icons, banners, renders, etc .. but i will no longer do rentry graphics for non-moots! some mutual-exclusive stuff r also replycons & full themes (dividers, 3 banners w 3 icons & a matching rentry temp) oh n i also do NPTs, but ill only do these if theres a detailed wiki of what the character is like

Blacklist ? ꒰ྀི . . ꒱ྀིა

mlm/bl ships,, selfcest,, any of my high ids,, problematic media,, vivziepop media,, homestuck,, the coffin of andy & leyley,, irl media,, irl animals,, arlefuri,, dottore,, idk what else ill decline ur req if i dont want to do the media

Whitelist ? ꒰ྀི . . ꒱ྀིა

gl/wlw ships/media!!!,, gyaru characters,, nso,, cherry crush,, akiyama enma media,, hoyo media,, milgram,, idv,, pjsk,, bandori,, d4dj,, other idol media,, bsd,, tbhk,, rhythm games,, from the red fog,, alien stage,, nana,, omori,, shoujo animanga,, csm,, vnc,, aod,, persona,, pokemon,, OCs of TUYU/ado,, anything not on the blacklist!

#૮ ྀི ◞ ◟ ა IMPORTANT #꒰ྀི . . ꒱ྀིა Edits!#꒰ྀི . . ꒱ྀིა RequestsノAsks!#꒰ྀི . . ꒱ྀིა Promos!#꒰ྀི . . ꒱ྀིა Reblogs!#꒰ྀི . . ꒱ྀིა MeノID!

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k-night · 11 days

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𓈒 　　 ℐ 　　Macalo Layout𓈒 　

like and reblog to use — credits required 𓈒

#⠀ ⠀ ◜ ⠀ ℐ℘ ˙ ⠀⠀layouts.#macalo #from the red fog #ftrf #layout #tumblr layouts #graphic #black and white #black #white #greyscale #grayscale #mmmm re make of my old macalo layout

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agentnatesewell · 3 months

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Happy Valentine’s Day, lovely person 🌹

I always love reading your thoughts on UB, they are so well-thought out and insightful, and your writing is simply lovely. Above all, you’re a wonderful and sweet and uplifting presence in this fandom!

Here’s a romance-themed OC question for any OC(s) of your choosing (no pressure to answer on Valentine’s day itself, or at all):

What combination of random objects would your OC use to describe their LI? What do they represent? Bonus question: What would their LI use to describe them?

Hello my friend! What a lovely and sweet message, and thank you for such nice compliments - you all make it so much fun to be here in this space. I hope you are having a lovely day filled with just that, love and happiness 💕

I’m going to answer for Nate x Suri, Adam x Layla

Nate.

Anyone, really, can memorize the layout of a room, following an order to create a space to give the detective some semblance of home, a safe place in this world which is so new to them. An alternative reality which may be more real to any they’ve known before.

An armchair here, a vanity there, the right headboard to fit against the bed frame. It’d been a rewarding challenge to find a replica of the wallpaper, or rather wall stickers in the shape of large and fully bloomed peonies.

When he sees her now, in this room as an overnight guest - not a guest, he hopes she finds this to be a home, a secondary home - the crystal vases aren’t just filled with pre-designed bouquets but rather sweet roses or dramatic lilies, fully opened tulips when he can manage to find them.

She turns and the lingering fog of centuries of needing and wanting another lifts, her smile - dark and satin and deep, more purple than red, lipstick that will eventually smudge onto his mouth or the tip marker she uses for that board in her office as she mulls over the latest mission or case - it is radiant. She is radiance.

Surina leaves that fray edged, well read book of poetry on the vanity - consulted the previous night for a sonnet she’d recited against the heating skin of his neck. She sets down the perfume bottle - white jasmine an aura - and attaches the tennis bracelet around her wrist. Her first purchase, her first indulgence for herself, a rainbow of diamonds.

The familiar click of her heels is quieted by the plush carpet, sleek black and red bottomed, another indulgence. Nate and Adam had looked, in awe but really worry and confusion, her running over sidewalk and cobble stone and even through thick forest grasses, light and agile, balanced on the three inch high stilettos keeping her upright. Adam had called it impractical, Nate had commended the skill, and Surina stated that it was simply a return on investment.

He reaches for her when she nears, her hand further from him holding a worn silver and teal blue keychain, he will ask her the significance and she will tell him. But now, she takes his hand, and leads him out into the hallway. They have a date.

Adam.

Since becoming an Agent, the usually well planned, down to a quarter of an hour well planned, Layla had mentioned a few gaps in her daily planner schedules.

And though he’d been quite serious in his response. Adam was still quite surprised when she’d agreed to train with him. After all, she knows where her deficiencies lie and needed to learn how to strengthen them. Where Adam thought she could and would do better, well that would keep her schedule full for the foreseeable future.

Waiting, arms folded at his chest, trying to keep his attention out the window for any sort of emergency or surprise threat, his gaze betrays him by taking note of what she’s placing in her cross-body satchel. No, not a betrayal, he really should be taking stock of how she prepares. To use for future missions.

An extra pair of glasses. Good. He’d recalled her frustration with their last ambush by trappers, the twist of the frame. Also remembers the deep blue of her eyes, dark and sparkling even in a moment of frustration while he righted the metal.

He clears his throat. She tells him she needs a moment longer.

Back at the window, he sees the reflected image of her, a tie, one of the many hair ties that seem to hide in every cushion and surface, around her fingers. Quick fingers work through the soft curls of her dark hair, plaiting and braiding before securing. Smart. Out of the way. Clear sight.

Adam rubs his hands together, stepping closer to her, they’ll be training in the forest again. Quiet. Soundless.

Snap!

He groans, knowing that Layla has just stuck a piece of that insidious gum between her teeth and started to chew. How many times has he reminded her of a choking hazard?

Adam looks to her, eyes sharp, and she shrugs. Promises to spit it out before they start, and says - for the hundredth time since he’s met her - that tooth care is important, and she has dentist-sanctioned bubble gum. He should fact check.

She picks up her denim jacket, her signature he thinks, and slides it over her shoulders and over her arms. Today, he’ll tell her to keep the stiff materialed - actually, quite pleasantly worn - garment on today. Even for someone as well prepared as her, one cannot always dress appropriately for a fight.

#okay i hope i answered the questions well!#have been thinking about this ask all day and finally got to answer!#thank you for the ask!#twc #the wayhaven chronicles #nate x detective #adam x detective #otp: nuri #layla x adam #mar writes twc #twc fanfic #long post #got carried away!

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spectacled-renegade-writes · 9 months

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An Early Start - Chapter 5 - Danny Phantom

Ao3: Here | Chapter 1: Here

Ao3 Description: The accident that turns Danny half-ghost happens when he is four years old and leaves him trapped in the Ghost Zone. Clockwork finds him and takes him in to raise. But what happens when Clockwork sends Danny back to the human-world ten years later when a permanent portal appears?

Chapter 5:

As the years passed, and Danny grew from a child to a tween, he slowly grew much more reserved within himself. It was hard to explain but… being alone with your thoughts for so many years… it was practically inevitable, how jaded he grew. Nevertheless, Danny still enjoyed his life. He enjoyed learning, reading, the deep conversations he had with Clockwork, who he now considered a father, and visiting the far reaches of the Ghost Zone.

After Danny perfected the art of his ice powers, Clockwork finally agreed to teach Danny the layout of this world, and the dangers within it. However, only when the day came that Danny knew his way around by heart, did Clockwork finally give him permission to explore on his own. It was a new kind of freedom that Danny relished.

Still, he should have been more aware of the dangers.

It started during a peaceful outing when he was eleven. Danny spent less and less time at home and more and more time in the deepest depths of the Ghost Zone, exploring every nook and cranny. But one thing always remained constant. He always returned home. Without fail. So, when he didn’t, it wasn’t difficult for Clockwork to figure what went wrong. But the boy always was one to learn by doing, and he knew the boy would return home, so Clockwork waited. It was about time this happened.

Danny found himself in a place he’s never been before. Excitedly, Danny pulled out his own makeshift map of the Ghost Zone, sat on a rock, and began to add to it. The air here seemed stale in a way he couldn’t really describe, and it seemed desolate as if abandoned, rather than life that never was. Though it did not affect him, he became aware of the chill that surrounded air. It almost seemed… haunted. Danny thought back to Clockwork’s lesson on irony.

Nevertheless, he persevered. After drawing what he could see, he moved forward, beyond the gray fog which lay ahead. It seemed almost like a barrier, in a way, but Danny was easily able to breach it.

The sight before him once he reached the other side was nothing short of fantastical. He found himself greeted with a large village, a large moat and an even larger castle. It felt like he fell back in time and got pulled to a whole new world all at once; fantasy and history come to life. It was truly a sight to behold. Yet… despite that, it also felt bleak… and grim. Almost despondent even, and it wasn’t long before his presence there became known.

“Who dares trespass on my domain?!”

The sight which appeared before him was a creature even more fantastical than the castle he was greeted with. Appearing from smoke and flame a dragon larger than any ghost Danny has ever encountered rose to the sky. The force of its large, purple wings flapping in the wind nearly knocked him back but he steeled himself and stood his ground… or rather his place in the sky. Yet, despite himself, Danny felt intimidated. For a single masochistic moment, he relished the feeling. Growing up as Clockwork’s ward left him with a certain kind of immunity in the Ghost Zone. But, seeing the rage in the dragon’s dilated, red eyes quickly extinguished those feelings. “I’m… Danny.”

“Danny?”

He cleared his throat. “Yes. Danny… Phantom.” He didn’t know why he said it. He has never been referred to with such a name before. But, for years now, he has felt more ghost than human, and he can’t remember the last time he has been referred to as Fenton either. After all this time that name felt foreign to him, separate. So, Danny Phantom.

“Well, Danny Phantom,” The dragon spit. “You have trespassed on my domain and for that, you must perish!” It wasn’t a moment later that the dragon charged. Danny dodged out of the way but the dragon whipped its head back, opened its mouth, and shot a large burst of fire at him. Danny reacted quickly and shot out his own blast of ice. The two attacks met in the middle and for a moment, struggled to gain the upper hand. But, the dragon won, and his flames melted the ice and hit Danny square in the chest. Danny yelped and went flying back, hitting the wall of the castle and sliding down to the ground. The dragon charged toward him and Danny quickly reached up and shot an ecto-blast from his hands. The attack did not slow the dragon in the slightest and in one fell swoop, he scooped Danny in his claws, shoved him against the wall, and slammed him to the ground.

“Please,” Danny begged. It was perhaps the first time since he was four that he felt such raw fear. “I didn’t mean to trespass. Please, just let me go. I promise I’ll leave and never return.”

“It is far too late for that, child.” The dragon snarled. “You are here and you must pay.” Either this ghost has never heard of Clockwork before, or cared not of his reputation and power. “Now, prepare to burn!”

Danny did not want to die. He wondered, not for the first time, if he fully died, lost his human half, would he disappear completely, or would his ghost half remain? It was a question that plagued him for years now but was the only question he never asked Clockwork. He feared the answer. Now, here he lay, trapped in the claws of a monster, about to learn that answer.

No. No! Not yet. It couldn’t end like this. It couldn’t! Not yet! Danny screamed, something as guttural and primal as his overwhelming fear. A sound of anguish and terror ripped from his throat. Everything he was and everything he feared, nothing and everything all at once. He could not accept this death, not for anything. Before he knew what was going on, the feeling of simultaneous power and weakness overwhelmed him, and the dragon tumbled backward, letting out a screech of its own. Black dots danced before Danny’s vision but he knew he could not stop now. With the last of his remaining strength, ignoring the way the familiar rings of white light surrounded him, he pushed off the ground and flew through the air. With a cry, he breached those gray clouds once again and escaped the fantastical land he’d stumbled upon. The last thing he saw before he blacked out was the familiar sight of the Ghost Zone he knew.

Danny came to at the tower. His home. Clockwork’s home. He felt fuzzy but there was no moment of confusion, no moment where he tried to remember what happened. He knew what happened. Danny rubbed his throat. He was unaware such a wail was a power he possessed. He wondered if Clockwork knew. Somehow, he knew he did.

“So, Danny Phantom, huh?”

Danny sat up properly and looked around. They were in Danny’s room at the top of the tower, a room Clockwork gave to him as his own many years ago, and saw Clockwork staring out the ceiling length window, fiddling with the scepter he always carried.

“If you knew, why didn’t you help me?” Danny asked. He watched as Clockwork moved on to rewind another cog.

“Because I knew you would make it out,” he finally turned to face Danny. He had that ever present all-knowing smile on his face. “And if I came to help you… it would be many years before you discovered the new power you possess.”

Danny mulled that over. In another world perhaps he’d be angry at Clockwork for this. And perhaps in this world he still couldn’t help but feel just the slightest bit annoyed. But, he’s also known Clockwork for years. So, he was more aware than perhaps any other ghost that every single one of Clockwork’s actions, or lack thereof, had a purpose. Danny didn’t respond.

“This… ghostly wail, as I know you call it, is a very powerful and very destructive attack. As I am sure you are aware of by now?”

Danny nodded.

Clockwork hummed. “I trust you know to use it responsibly.” Gracefully, he floated from the window to the entrance of the room at the stairs. “Now, rest, little one.”

~~~~~~~~

Ao3 Notes: Thank you so much for your support/continued support! Have a lovely day/night!

#an early start au #danny phantom #danny phantom fanfiction #danny phantom fanfic #danny fenton #clockwork #prince aragon #lost time #renegade writes

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CG! Diluc and Regressor! Albedo

Note: I haven’t met Albedo yet in genshin so I apologize if he’s out of character ! I just read up on him for this (he seems so silly)

Albedo was stressed beyond belief, he usually didn’t come down to Mondstadt because of all the people - usually only traveling down when few people would be around such as the evening or dead of night.

Yet today was different. He decided that for once he’d go down and meet with Sucrose and his other alchemical colleagues; they were all lovely friends to him and understood his reclusive reasons.

A few days prior while Sucrose was up running around with him on Dragonspine she had mentioned how there was going to be a small get together with all the local alchemist to discuss their progress and share insights.

How could he miss that!?

So now, Albedo is sitting at a corner booth in the winery, feeling as if all his nerves were on fire. Social interaction was probably worse than he remembers. What do people normally say? How do they correctly drink? Is there a wrong way to? How does it feel like Razor of all people understands humans more than he does.

Thoughts piled on top of each other leaving Albedo overwhelmed from his own mind - alchemy made sense. You simply had to place liquids and objects correctly together, follow a clear cut path, and you’ll get your desired response.

People are unpredictable. There’s intricacies upon intricacies that don’t add up and they’ll always misunderstand something. So he avoids people who he cannot predict.

“It’s been lovely, but I fear I must go. Sucrose, if something pops up I need to know do you mind passing along the message?” Albedo slid out of the booth as he spoke, carefully dusting off his clothes - people did that, right?

“Of course! I’ll see you on Dragonspine soon, okay?” Sucrose smiled, her smile was always so warm. It reminded albedo of the potions he mixes.

Diluc had watched from the bar, carefully drying the glasses he had washed. Normally he people watched to make sure drunken guests didn’t cause ruckus but today there was someone new.

Albedo was down off the snow covered mountain and shaking, the boy never shook even in the sheer cold, he was always perfectly bundled and near a fire yet here he seemed like a leaf. Something was off and Diluc had a bitter taste; he watches over his guests despite how little he knew of them.

“Take over the bar for me will ya?” Diluc tossed a towel over his shoulder and sat the keys down on the counter for his number two to take. “I got an issue to resolve.” With that Diluc was off, quickly following behind Albedo.

Mondstadt in the moment felt humongous to Albedo, the roads twist and turned leading for his head to pound and fog. He couldn’t remember which way led to the gates and at this point he was about to figure out how to scale the walls.

Albedo just wanted out. He wanted to tranquility of snow, fireplaces, and mitten covered hands. Those were all so comforting to Albedo, it felt like home - the only home he truly had.

Crumpling, Albedo grabbed his head trying to force the fog to clear so he could remember Mondstadt simple U-shape layout. “Hey, ‘Bedo is everything okay?” With caution Albedo looked up, trying to will his voice to speak to the person and confirm everything was totally fine.

Diluc. Albedo had heard of him a few times, he knew the man was kind but didn’t go out of his way to interact with people all that much. Were they the same? Both preferring isolation to the complexity of people.

That didn’t seem right as right now the red head was crouched in front of him, looking too comforting for someone who didn’t like people. Maybe the fog was the cause of this. Why was he so foggy?

“Diluc? Where’s..gates. Need t’a go home.” Albedos words were spaced out and slurred but he got the message across. Later he could question why he couldn’t seem to speak right, later he would overthink this communication block, right now he just needed tranquility.

“I don’t think I can let you go home buddy..you seem a little spacey and I’d rather not let us lose you to the cold.” Diluc held out his hand and did his best to force a small smile. He wasn’t the best at comfort, having always been around Adelinde who knew him and all his brash ways. Right now though, Diluc needed to be of comfort. He could tell what was going on in Albedos head, he’d gone through it himself so many times.

The first is always scary if you don’t know what’s happening.

Albedo carefully took Dilucs hand. Neither knew how things would go, neither were sure if everything would be okay but for now Albedo had Diluc to help him.

Diluc had carried Albedo back to the winery on his hip, at first the blonde had tried to walk by himself yet after nearly eating gravel a few times Diluc calmly explained how it it was simply too dangerous.

Now, both men were back at the winery and Diluc was left to fret over the boy (and his rash decision making). “Hey ‘Bedo, is there anything that will make you more comfortable here?” Diluc washed out a small cup with a lid, unsure of how old Albedo currently was - and if he was even fully regressed right now.

Speaking of, Albedo sat on the couch in the next room over lightly chewing on his thumb. The world had seemed to have gotten bigger in mere moments, at first he could have handled it but now since feeling so. Safe? Comfortable? What was the word - regardless, due to Diluc watching over him the world had expanded.

Suddenly Diluc was in front of Albedo, holding a lidded cup with a straw, “Hey buddy, let’s get a drink and stop chewing on that thumb okay?” Albedo hummed and reached out for the cup, gently holding on to it with both his hands. It was cold, something that comforted him and reminded Albedo of home.

Both boys worked in silence, albedo trying to make sense of everything while Diluc tore open a package and tugged out a matching pacifier and teether - he wasn’t sure which would be preferred .

When offered a choice between the two, Albedo seemed to contemplate before reaching out and carefully grabbing the pacifier. Almost as if there was a wrong choice.

“Oo, I enjoy those as well when I’m like you.” Diluc reached out and raked his fingers through Albedos hair, careful to not mess up the boys hairstyle. “Now, I’m gonna offer you three choices just hold up a finger for the first, and so on okay?”

Albedo nodded, his fingers intertwining and tugging on each other. Multiple choice, he enjoyed questions like those it was easy to rule out which was correct.

“Okay, which would you like to do. One: we can watch a show, two: I can read you a story, three: we can take a nap.” Diluc held up a finger with each one, helping Albedo keep track of which one was which.

The question was mulled over by the boy before he held up two fingers then added a third. “Re’ed then nap?” The words came out slightly muffled due to the pacifier but Diluc was able to deduce them.

“We can do that kiddo, cmon let’s go find a story.” Diluc crouched down, counting to three before he lifted Albedo into his arms. “Wanna play multiple choice for the story too kid?” With that both of them were off to the mini library that was was kept at the far end of the manor.

#this ended up longer than I meant #oh well!#fandom agere #genshin agere #🍼 kye writes #🥮kye answers

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