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unfriendlyamazon · 1 year

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Black Coffee and a Funny Cigarette (free day)

i didn’t really have a plan for the last day of @joukaiweek buuuut i’ve had this sitting in my secret documents for a while. a sort of sequel to this gangster au, overly self-indulgent, and utterly tragic.

Title: Black Coffee and a Funny Cigarette Rating: M Characters: Joey Wheeler, Seto Kaiba Word Count: 2209 Warnings: Depression, Aftermath of Violence, Weed, Family Estrangement, Mokuba Is Dead In This One, Discussions of Violence, Swears, Sex, Minimally Researched Historical Fiction Summary: It’s the end of a long night for Joey Wheeler, and he seeks some comfort in the form of black coffee, and a funny cigarette.

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Joey runs a hand through the wet strands of his bleached hair and tries to avoid his reflection in the mirror. The steam from the shower works to cover the small medicine cabinet in the skinny bathroom of his tiny apartment, but blotches of color still make it through. The straw colored yellow, the warm tan of his skin, and the purple bruises that bloom on his face like water stains. His knuckles are red and raw, and he buries them in the scratchy towel before pulling on his overshirt and opening the door.

Night has stayed nested outside the single tiny window he called his own, but now early morning leaks shades of red into the midnight blue. Inside, the lamps were lit, making spots of warm light against the brick and plaster walls. Joey’s lucky to have an apartment fit for one, even if the metal frame bed is pushed up against the far wall, leaving only a little space between there and the cubby kitchen. The furniture can’t even be comfortably called second hand. No, the shabby pieces have been rescued from dumps and resale shops. A radio sits on the table, one of the only relatively new appliances he owns. Jazz crackles out of the speakers, the sort they played for late night insomniacs and sleepy workers starting their day or waiting to see it end.

The newest addition to his apartment comes in the tall dark shape of Seto Kaiba. He’s pulled a frayed robe over his shoulders and is now pouring himself a cup of black coffee in the small kitchen area. His eyes have a similar red rimmed sleepiness that Joey identifies with too well with. Since bringing him into the fray with his usual gang, he’s taken to the work with a relative easiness and unflinching attitude that others have already noticed. His night hasn’t been half as rough as Joey’s, but he waited for him at the bar until Joey shuffled in with the rest of the boys, face half-bloodied and knuckles cracked. The right thing to do, Joey knew, was share a drink with the gang, a moment of camaraderie and bravado after another night of doing their worst, but Seto wrapped a jacket around his shoulders and guided him onto the darkened street where they walked in silence, just the heavy footfalls of their feet and the click of Seto’s cane against the gray concrete.

“How are you feeling?” he asks as he crossed the small space to Joey’s side.

“Better,” he mutters and turns away from him. The bed creaks beneath him as he falls back. He squeezes his eyes shut and sinks into the stiff mattress. A headache pulses in the front of his temple. He doesn’t figure for getting much sleep tonight.

“I thought you’d feel this way,” Seto says from somewhere above him. The tips of his long fingers brush the sheets beside Joey, like he isn’t sure if he should touch him. “I can leave, if you’d like.”

Wordlessly, Joey reaches across, finding Seto’s wrist and holding him there. The thought of facing sunrise alone leaves a pit in his stomach. Seto still has a bed in some shared tenement, but more and more he spends his nights here, warming Joey’s pillows after a night out in the cold. They’ve never put into words what exactly their arrangement even is. Partners implies a certain amount of intent to a relationship carried mostly by momentum, and sweethearts is too saccharine and dovey for Joey to care for it. Lovers conjures images of elicit affairs tucked behind gilded couches, or maybe love lorn letters brimming with heartfelt emotions. It isn’t the sort of word used to describe two brow beaten men, exhausted and empty, looking to fill up on whatever comforts they could manage.

Tonight is a night for comfort.

“Of course,” Seto says, and his lips brush Joey’s forehead. “I think I have just the thing.”

The bed depresses next to him, and he peeks an eye open as Seto leans over the nightstand. His cane is rested beside the bed, the dull wood a dark shape in the dim lighting. His hands move like he was looking for his cigarettes, but he pulls out a small tin that, when opened, reveals a number of smaller rolled sticks. Reefer. Along with the banning of alcohol, the teetotal committee has been in a tizzy over the immigrant weed which passed through every club in New York. Their gang doesn’t deal much in it besides enjoying it. They smoked a stick together on the veranda outside a jazz club, and Seto always kept a few on him, for his hip he said.

He strikes a match now and brings the joint to his lips. Joey watches him inhale, his chest expanding as he sucks in the musky smelling herb. He holds it in his chest for a few heartbeats before exhaling it. Smoke dances blue in the yellow light of the lamps. It’s all Joey could focus on as he takes the offered joint and sucks in a breath himself. His ribs ache, his limbs are sore, and he can feel every bone in his body, broken or not. George Olsen croons from the table, the soft rhythm of the song setting a gentle tenor to the air.

Each breath unspools the tension in his chest. Joey and Seto just breathe for a while, in and out, to the time of the radio’s melodies. At some point, they climb into bed proper. Seto’s lean frame leaves his back against the wall as Joey lays against his chest. His heartbeat is a steady rhythm in his ear, and he closes his eyes against it. The sky is still lightening outside, but for right now Joey can pretend that this is the whole world. The little apartment, the music, him, and Seto.

“They’re playing some Charlie Chaplin pictures at the theater this week,” Seto says. His fingers brush through Joey’s hair. “We should go.”

Joey smiles. “You love those.”

“They make me laugh,” he says without a drop of amusement in his voice.

That makes Joey laugh, and he squeezes him a little tighter. “You’re buying. I heard someone’s working the books now.”

Seto hums. It’s no secret one of the bookmakers had up and left mysteriously overnight, after more than a few mistakes in his accounting were discovered. Seto had run numbers for a short while before someone up top realized his street smarts barely measured up to his business sense. Better money than street work, more perks too, so long as you keep your hands clean and don’t scrape off the top.

“We oughtta go out to Coney Island,” Joey continues. “Get a hot dog, play some games.”

“I’ve never been before,” Seto says. His fingers still stroke the long strands of Joey’s hair. With his eyes closed, Seto’s voice comes from somewhere distant, the soft slow murmur of his voice laying on Joey like a blanket.

“It’s the best,” Joey says. “No place like it on Earth, far as I know. Maybe we could go swimming. You own a bathing suit?”

“No,” he drawls, and Joey laughs again.

“We used to go all the time,” he says. A pang of melancholy strikes his heart, but his mouth is already moving. “You can ride the train straight to it. Even after they started charging for the parks, we’d save our nickels. I don’t know if I’ve ever been as happy as I was sitting on the boardwalk with a corndog with my sister.”

Seto’s fingers pause. He tucks a strand of yellow hair behind Joey’s ear. “I didn’t know you had a sister.”

The melancholy settles in like a well worn jacket. Joey buries his face in Seto’s side. “She’s in California. I haven’t seen her in ten years.”

Seto says nothing, and Joey’s grateful. If Seto presses even a little bit, Joey doesn’t know if he could stop himself from telling the full sad tale, and he doesn’t want to. It’s not anybody else’s burden to bear, or anybody else’s secret to keep.

“I had a brother,” Seto finally says. “It’s been a long time as well.”

Joey opens his eyes and sits straight up. Seto’s hand falls away from him. He doesn’t know what he expects to see, as Joey searches Seto’s face, maybe some tears, maybe a tremor to his lips, but Seto looks at him the way he always does. His expression is a guarded secret, a bank vault begging to be cracked open.

“Is that why you left?” Joey asks. “Texas. You said something happened.”

Seto puts a hand on the locket he wears around his neck. He’s opened it exactly once around Joey, who saw the braided strand of hair inside but had asked no questions. It’s how it works between the two of them. Sometimes Joey suspected Seto liked to hear him talk so much because it kept his own fragile thoughts at bay.

“His name was Mokuba,” Seto says. “He was the only thing I had left. After his funeral, I went to my adopted father’s office, and I bludgeoned him to death before burning the place to the ground.”

Seto’s gaze hasn’t moved from Joey’s. He waits, unflinching, for Joey to say anything at all. Dares him to. He’s confessed to a murder. No, he’s confessed to an execution. Joey reaches out with his own blood covered hands, holding Seto’s face, and he lets out a dry, cracked laugh.

“We’re as fucked up as you can get,” Joey says. “Sometimes I think we’re made for each other.”

Seto stares at him, and then he pulls Joey close to kiss him. It’s a messy thing. They’re both sluggish and sad and grateful to feel the warmth of another person. New York is a cold and lonely place, so full of people and so empty of hope. But here, in this room, in this bed, with Seto’s breath against his skin, and the heat between them, they can grind away a little of that hard outer shell they worked so hard to keep. For a little while, they can feel anything at all.

They fuck, or make love, Joey isn’t sure which. It’s never like the way he’s had it before. Joey’s body isn’t the same beneath his clothes, and with every other lay he’s either been careful about how much of himself to reveal or fuck people he knows don’t care. Seto’s hip is fragile, and so the times they’re rough are still taken with care. It’s the first time they feel fully bare to another person, the only time someone has taken either of them with care. Tonight’s it’s lazy. Joey nips his skin without intent, and Seto’s hands draw up and down his spine. They stop to kiss each other and start again to feel their skin move together. Even after they’ve come, they don’t move free of each other. The sun’s come up outside, softening the warm glow of the lamps and painting everything in hazy shades of pink and blue, and they share the tail end of the reefer between their lips. They lay together, not an inch of space to spare.

Joey rests his head in the crook of Seto’s neck. Seto’s arms are loose around him. He breaches slow and deep, falling asleep, and it tickles the hair on Joey’s head. Tears prick the corner of Joey’s eyes as he feels the hollow well in his chest suddenly overrun. It’s been a long, hard night. He feels rough and raw in a way that isn’t entirely bad, which is so often how he feels in bed with someone else. This is the first time that feeling hasn’t left him scrambling for the hills. Instead, Seto sighs and holds him a little a tighter. Joey presses his lips to his jaw.

“You should stay,” he says.

A dry laugh shakes Seto’s chest. “I had no intention of moving, I promise you.”

Joey looks up at him. “You should stay here. You and me. I don’t wanna be without you.”

It’s too earnest of a confession, he knows. It’s the reefer, making his head fuzzy, and when they wake up in a few hours they can laugh. Except, tonight they’ve been too honest with each other, and none of it can be taken back. Joey doesn’t want to.

Seto presses his forehead to his, he’s smiling in a way Joey so rarely gets to see. “Of course I’ll stay.”

Relief breaks in Joey’s chest. He kisses him again, and again, and again. His lips are wet from crying, and Seto laps away his tears. They’re kissing moves him inside Joey, who offers a desperate thankful thrust. They do make love this time, no longer lazy but set to satisfy each other, to share in a brief and happy solidarity. Without Seto, Joey’s night would’ve been spent alone and empty, dark, and cold, the apartment stinking of sweat and blood. Joey doesn’t know if he could stand it. But somehow, Seto’s spread the dawn across their little haven, and the air is warm and layered with the scent of black coffee and his funny cigarettes.

#the original i put sorely in the american depression but i started playing around with prohibition era #so if there's an inconsistencies don't tell me #this is an au of an au of an au #we're layers deep people #me writing my own fanfiction like do you think i'm depressed #kaijou #joukai week #joey wheeler #jounouchi katsuya #seto kaiba

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minhxiao · 7 months

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the real reason i'm using twitter less is because i accidentally logged out and they deleted all my drafts and it was like the burning of alexandria you guys... all my silly little headcanons... gone

#devastating fr #i had a thread on why i thought lisa and albedo would be besties and now i've forgotten it all #also a wip idea of xiaoae in 1920s prohibition era nyc that was half mafia au half murder mystery #don't ask about the second one idk #literally need to start writing my ideas and headcanons with pen and paper on a notepad like an 18th century writer #minh.txt

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transingthoseformers · 1 year

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I think I've explained this before, but in my au Starscream is a youngest child.pdf in a large family. Like, the only reason they're considered the prince of Vos is because the other siblings either up and died, mysteriously went missing, or were disinherited for other reasons. Why am I mentioning this?

Imagine the 'Bots and 'Cons meeting one of Star's older siblings. Imagine the reunion, the chaos, petty petty fighting, perhaps some sibling rivalry Mufasa and Scar style?

#tfp au #look i absolutely love the idea that in some universe Starscream is royalty because damn if they does not explain some stuff #there's a reason wheb people think of the middle ages they think about the batshit monarchy drama #tfp Starscream #especially since from what we've seen in canon the aligned continuity Cybertron was an interesting place indeed #there is definitely roman/latin influence in tfp but in rid15 you get the vibe that prewar cybertron was more like the prohibition era #mix that and you get some goddamn interesting vibes #in damn general Starscream has royal vibes and i don't just mean this as a compliment— just remember the crown and cape

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tanoraqui · 2 years

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Those bulletpoint fics are some of my favorite crossover fics. The Sabriel girl genius crossover is still excellent. Actually all of the girl genius crossovers are my favorite

honestly the Girl Genius Abhorsen AU is probably to this day my favorite crossover fic I've ever written. The Heterodynes being a lineage of Free Magic sorcerers and necromancers who are functionally, accidentally, a bloodline of the Eighth Bright Shiner is just so perfect. The worldbuilding and multi-generational and mythological drama really came together.

#my fic #random anon asks #other favorite college girl genius aus include: the group-made steven universe au #the au where agatha is somewhat villainous and has a harem #the syberpunk/ai au which constancecomment and i made up ourselves #the travically never shared prohibition era mobsters au which constancecomment and i ALSO made up ourselves #and really thoroughly outlined a longfic of in face #one day we'll break down and either write that or at least share the outline #ft. hte first 1 and a half chaters or so ofc

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flannelepicurean · 4 months

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Babes. Okay. So. Pursuant to the content and excerpts and whatnot from that DBZ "coffee shop AU" crack fic WIP that's getting referenced a lot hereabouts, I finally did the logo/mascot for Chipper Cup, the corporate hellhole where Raditz and Vegeta (and later Goku) work.

(But not Nappa. He managed not to get sucked into Big Beverage, and makes more money than his two roommates by selling fake NFTs.)

BEHOLD:

This abomination before man and god is ChumbieⒸ. She wants you to be her ChumⒸ. That's what they call customers at Chipper CupⒸ. Yes, Corporate knows good and damn well about the "shark food" connection. So does ChumbieⒸ.

#dragon ball z #coffee shop au #fanfic wip #my art #chipper cup #corporate hellhole #corporate logo #au lore #chumbie #she's an abomination #the worst of prohibition era cartoons with dancing furniture #plus the overhype effervescence of stuff making fun of anime #and frieza's head #that's a rictus grin folks #she'll eat your soul #don't forget to fill out a survey

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laiqualaurelote · 8 months

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When the shots rang out in the Arc, the band didn’t stop playing. It was twelve minutes into the new year at a Stark speakeasy and the joint was jumping, the floor crammed with gin baby socialites essaying the Charleston, mobsters clustered around tables, petty thieves circling and dipping into the pockets of the unwary. When the bullets started flying the crowd screamed and sought to scatter but the bandleader barely blinked, just led his crew full tilt into another chorus of ‘I Wish I Could Shimmy Like My Sister Kate’. The singer, a svelte Sokovian songbird in a shimmering scarlet number, sidestepped a bullet that buried itself in a piano leg and kept right on crooning, All the boys in the neighbourhood know she can shimmy and it’s understood, while all hell broke loose on the dance floor.

On an average night in the Arc you could find a good sample of Manhattan’s criminal element. This night was especially high on variety: the Chitauri, who were low-level thugs at best, had capered in close to midnight, already drunk from another shindig across Soho; the Hand had strayed from Hell’s Kitchen to be in attendance, as had some of the Harlem War Dogs. Even the Ten Rings had put in a rare appearance. What was not known to any of these parties was that the crown prince of Wakanda was drinking incognito in the club, or that his retinue of bodyguards – all tall women in bobbed wigs and glittering gowns they seemed to barely tolerate – had stationed themselves throughout the crowd.

The brawl started when one of the Chitauri got into a spat over a dance hostess – or at least he thought she was a hostess, a redhead in black he’d seen regularly moving across many a floor, though if he’d asked around he’d have realised nobody knew her name. He’d thrown a punch, which had hit one of the Hand, and members from both gangs had started piling in. Who fired the first shot wasn’t clear, but the rest needed no encouragement. The civilians who’d come in from upstate for a taste of forbidden fruit cowered under tables; the club’s regulars launched themselves into the fray with relish. Thor Odinson, senator’s son who frequented far too many watering holes for his father’s dry agenda, was bashing brawlers left, right and centre with a barstool. The Wakandan women had produced gleaming spears from beneath their gowns and actually appeared to be hurling men through the air. It seemed like the entire fracas would burn out of the club and up into the streets of Manhattan like wildfire – but then there was an enormous boom from above the crowd that had everyone throwing themselves flat.

“I’d say this party is getting out of hand,” said Tony Stark. “Even for me.”

it’s my @marveltrumpshate 1920s Prohibition era Steve/Tony AU for @nostalgicatsea! the gin is cold but the jazz is hot, etc.

#mcu fic #steve/tony #avengers fic #1920s au #prohibition era #steve rogers #tony stark #natasha romanov #pepper potts #wanda maximoff #stony #steve rogers x tony stark

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autumnmobile12 · 11 months

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Defying the Volstead Act: We Play What We Play

The forge master duo and Lenore playing for the speakeasy.

Castlevania Prohibition AU

The trombone is a left-handed trombone. I definitely did not draw it backwards. Not at all. Don't worry about it.

#castlevania #hector #isaac #lenore #defying the volstead act #castlevania vampires #castlevania fanart #defying prohibition #vampire sisters #castlevania au #prohibition era #prohibition au #roaring twenties #1920s america #roaring 20s aesthetic #thanks to lackadaisy #for reminding me this time period was a thing

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jeonride · 10 months

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joshua reading list / fic recs !

don't forget to like + reblog the fics that you like to support the authors <3

navigation

FICS ! ✧*

Hoax (smut, angst, mafia!shua, strangers to lovers) by @lovelyhan

Isohel (modern royalty au, prince!shua, smut, angst) by @toruro

Eyes Meeting, Hearts Apart (mild angst, prince!shua, smut) by @lovelyhan

Mr. Nice Guy (smut, neighbor!shua) by @toruro

Under The Rose (fluff, smut, frenemies childhood to lovers, kinda historical au) by @just-come-baek

Honeyduke Lovers (hogwarts au, unrequited love, hufflepuff!shua x slytherin!reader. yep this is the story of how slytherin becomes undyingly soft for hufflepuff) by @http-mianhae

Steamy (smut, next door neighbor!shua) by @duhnova

written by @onlyhuis :

Cranberry Concoctions (smut, a little angst & fluff, 1920s, prohibition au)

Leaning on The Everlasting Arms (angst, smut, some fluff, bible college au)

Fine Line (fluff, smut, angst, figure skater!shua) by @heartkyeom

Prove it, You Won't (fluff, angst, humor, tattoo artist au) by @leejungchans

Oceans and Engines (fluff, exes to lovers, a lil' angst) by @renjunphile

Lover Boy (regency era romance, commoner!shua x aristocrat fem!reader, historical drama) by @starlightxsvt

Gentleman (angst, fluff, sugar daddy au) by @starlightxsvt

Wildest Dreams (bestfriends to lovers, fluff, humor) by @viastro

The Type (smut, fluff, college boyfriend!shua) by @bitchlessdino

Your Gentleman (smut, camboy!shua) by @wonwussy

Fighting for Your Love (smut, threesome ft. jeonghan) by @rubyreduji

Half Past Five High The Series (ft. mingyu, smut, angst, minor fluff, rich people au, love triangle, cheating. supermodel!gyu, photographer!shua x influencer fem!reader) by @multi-kpop-fanfics

Paint Me Numbers (fluff, shallow angst, guitarist/bandmate!shua) by @chocosvt

Domino (fluff, crack, smut) by @universecorp

Nasty (smut, fluff) by @soonigiri

Menace (smut) by @jeonghantis

You're All That Matters (fluff, bf!shua) by @heartsfromia

Be My Date (fluff, minor angst) by @heartsfromia

Mine (smut) by @luxekook

Meant for Each Other (fluff, soulmate au) by @slytherinshua

Golden Hour (best friends to lovers, fluff, slice of life, summer vacation au) by @dkfile

An Interview with An Angel (meet cute, fluff, reporter!shua) by @hannyoontify

Our Fairytale (smut, fluff) by @zuhacore

DRABBLES / SCENARIOS ! ✧*

at every table, i'll save you a seat (fluff) by @suhnshinehaos

bad habits (exes with benefits, smut, mild angst) by @lovelyhan

pretty when you cry (smut) by @cheolhub

quiet time (smut) by @number1mingyustan

acouasm (smut) by @angelwoozi

when you can't sleep but shua is right next to you (fluff, comfort) by @wonwoonlight

one-up (smut) by @sluttywonwoo

golden boy's mercy (smut) by @bitchlessdino

17. 12 (smut) by @lovelyhan

14. 13 (smut) by @toruro

after a long day (smut) by @sevngmin148

title (fluff, established relationship, ceo) by @leejungchans

relax (fluff, smut, established relationship) by @playmetheclassics

shower (fluff) @husbandhannie

stay up (fluff) by @bitterie-sweetie

about you : valentine's special (fluff, angst, friends to lovers) by @shuawonie

fruit (smut) by @onlyseokmins

i love you, always (fluff, comfort) by @monnn

10.32 (fluff, bf!shua) by @elysianeclipxe

clingy (fluff) and smitten (fluff) by @slytherinshua

we won't change because we're engraved in each other's heart (fluff) by @wooahaes

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katelynn-a-fan · 2 years

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One Red Coat. Two Red Shoes.

(K)Nights of the Red Coat Series (2/?)

Word count: 2.1k

AU/Genre: Prohibition Era Mystery

Pairing: Loginceit (Janus x Logan x Roman)

Summary: Logan and Janus find themselves watching this new addition to their speakeasy. Logan has no idea why, but he wants to know this new man. Even if he has to cross half the city to do it.

Halfway across the city, things are not as clean or safe, if a speakeasy can be called safe, as the better side of the city. But for this Prince, Logan must be the Knight he needs. No matter what he has to do to do it.

First | Next | Ao3

Gritting his teeth, Logan cursed under his breath as a sudden gust of wind nearly knocked him over.

The sparse passersby glanced at him strangely as he recovered as fast as he could. Their opinions didn’t matter. They could think he was running from the law (he did look like a bartender after all with his work clothes). They could think he was drunk.

None of that mattered.

That g- The Prince was in danger.

Logan rubbed his hands together as he mentally beat up his past self for frivolously casting aside his gloves at home because surely he would not be outside for long going to work.

God, he hoped his suspicions about where this Prince was going weren’t true.

And yet…

Logan’s gut rolled.

There was only one person who could’ve had that much power. That much terror to make the Prince pale like that.

His thoughts nearly consumed him enough that it took the loud honking of a car horn for it to coalesce that he had sprinted a few steps in front of a car that had barely been able to stop.

“Sir, I suggest you remove yourself from the road before someone with a penchant for not stopping does it for you!”

Despite the coals in his gut that dared him to bite back, Logan simply ran the full way across the entrance to the side street that he had unintentionally ran across. Not even a glance at who he had encountered.

The brick color on the buildings began to change as Logan drew near what the locals called the ‘Cesspit.’

All the shady, illegal, downright wicked things that could happen in this town, happened astride these soot covered facades.

And Logan was walking right into the heart of the muck.

Even as he watched his hand meet Prince’s lips, still his knees bent slightly as they began to buckle. He certainly felt like royalty now.

Does heaven feel like this?

But there was no discussion. No hesitation.

The Prince was in danger. And he… was the Knight. Was going to-

To-

Well, he would do whatever it took to get this Prince out of whatever muck he had gotten himself into.

“Hey fella, you lookin’ for a time?” A figure spoke from an alley as Logan passed.

And get himself out of a mess too, apparently.

In the shadow, Logan could barely make out their face as the sunlight faded and streetlights had not been turned on. But what Logan didn’t have in sight, he made up for in the hairs all along his body springing almost immediately to attention. And not because of the cold.

However, he didn’t need whatever primal reaction his body had to this figure in the shadows to know that it wasn’t wise to follow shady men down dark alleys on this side of town.

“I do hope you never find whatever schmuck you are trying to lure to their likely exploitation and/or death.” Logan spoke, quickly and never giving this shadow man any time to respond. “May your days be filled with as much misery as you have inflicted on others. I am armed. Good day.”

And with that, he left the figure, giving the moment no more thought that one would have taking a breath.

Once again rubbing his hands together to try to have some circulation back to his hands, Logan found himself slowing, probably had been doing so for some time now. His outfit was not meant for such extended weather, and that was taking its toll on Logan’s extremities.

But Logan supposed slowing down was a blessing as the barest muffled voice stopped him in his tracks. It had been short, cut off, dozens of feet away… and though some material…

And yet Logan would recognize that melodious voice anywhere, even marred by the slight hoarseness it possessed in such a short burst.

The Prince. He was in trouble.

Logan whipped around. He ran back to the alley he had been passing and choked off an involuntary gasp. Janus would’ve snorted at the display of ‘such utter emotion.’ As if both of them had not been utterly and visibly head over heels for this Prince ever since he came up to the bar.

“I knew it. Who else?” Logan murmured.

The King.

Of course, he was no king. At least not in the regal sense.

There was no country he ran. No sparkling, crown jewels sitting atop his brow (though the hat did shimmer in the slanting sunset light that barely managed to squeak into the alley)

But for all intents and purposes, in this town, none of that mattered.

If the King didn’t like you, you were gone. If a business gave any whiff of disrespect, they’d find themselves either disappeared or strangely befallen a life-threatening injury if not found dead before they could get medical assistance.

This man, blood red fedora glistening in the fading orange light, leaned over past a crumbling partition wall that appeared to belong to a long abandoned building that had once been here.

No wonder the Prince wears red.

Folded over this wall, in addition to the dull red shoes sticking out from behind it as well, was what was now a familiar bright, red coat.

No wonder he calls himself the Prince, he’s got the shoes to match.

Logan’s fists turned even more white than from the cold as he clenched his fists. He could swear his bones popped at the force.

Also, no wonder I’m going to bash this guy’s fucking head in.

As the King lips begin to move, saying god knows what threats toward the Prince, Logan finds himself barreling headfirst towards the scene.

One moment, he’s staring at the red coat, knowing he’s running up to what could be his mysterious death. The next he’s eye to eye with the most notorious gangster on the east coast, much less the city.

With muted surprise, the King’s smooth expression, that infuriating smirk, looked down at Logan’s seething form.

Perhaps if the King wasn’t so fucking tall, Logan might have actually made this guy feel some of the fear the King inspired in others. But even so, with all the emotional deafness Logan had, there was something in the King’s eyes that spurred him on.

It was also what had him catching the King’s fist as the unforeseen knife came screaming at him. The King saying something about having more meat to detail as it approached.

“Well, if you tasted me. You’d find that I have a fair bit of spice.” Logan replied, the King’s face contorting from once again a surprised expression to rage.

No one had ever defied the King. But Logan didn’t care. Perhaps the Prince would run this ‘kingdom better than the King ever did. So much unnecessary fear and death.

The King drew his hand back again from Logan’s grip, an outcry of pure anger spouting from his lips. He brought the knife down.

Only to find his hand rotated and the heel of Logan’s hand slapping it so hard it popped perfectly into the air for Logan to essentially pluck it out of the air.

“It’s not nice to steal my possessions.” The King said after once again composing himself after the dozenth stupid, life threatening descision by Logan.

Logan let a smirk not unlike Janus appear on his face.

“Well, it’s not nice to kill those who happen to disagree with you. And any of the other things you’ve done to strike fear in this country.” In some small part of Logan, saying these words was as if he were telling gravity not to pull him down. But the rest of him that was becoming more and more like this ‘Knight,’ it didn’t listen. This King needed to at least get the fear of God in him.

He’d- he’d kill the King if he had to.

Because as the King’s words washed over him once again about taking ‘his things,’ all that Logan could see was the pool of blood leaking from behind the wall he still couldn’t fully see behind.

And the silence that permeated the air as the Prince still hadn’t responded or gotten up.

Logan prayed, even not being a religious man, to whatever gods would hear him that the Prince was just unconscious.

Please, just let whatever the King did to him just be too much to stay conscious, not too much to stay alive.

“-and my boys will be coming any minute now to-”

“Falsehood.” Logan’s head snapped back up to the King. His own fury finally leaking into his frame at the state of the Prince.

The King blinked, suffocatingly smug words dying on his lips.

“What did you say?” The King snarled. There it was, something in the King’s eyes told Logan he was figuratively right on the money,

“I said you are telling a falsehood. If you needed ‘your boys,’” Logan had Janus running through him again as he accentuating the quotations with his hands and his whole body. He scowled at the King. “you would have called them the moment I ran down this alley.”

“You, King, are alone.”

And for the first time, the King’s facade truly wavered as he stepped back.

Though Logan wasn’t any different, for the King it seemed like Logan had grown 12 inches and was now the one towering over him. The King’s shoulders pulling up just as the Prince’s had probably done as the King had-

Logan screamed. “LEAVE! You are done! No one will be hurting this Prince again! And I am not someone who will be so easily disappeared. So, you better be the one to watch out.”

The King jumped as Logan yelled. His face was a mess of the vestiges of the bravado and smug facade and the terror Logan had somehow inspired in him as well as a fair bit of surprise at how terrified he was. He nearly pressed himself into the alley wall as the King fled past him out of the alley.

Okay. Apparently I do a good job of being a Knight. Good to know.

As the King turned the corner, Logan finally let himself turn his own corner to tend to whatever injuries the Prince had. Whatever impassive or angry expression he had melting into fear and concern for the Prince.

When he turned the corner, he finally let himself gasp at the cuts and bruises that covered almost every inch of the Prince's skin. The damp spot across his stomach was concerning, mostly because though it was clearly a deep slice…

That wasn’t where all that blood was coming from.

“Fuck!” Logan muttered, jumping in immediately to tend to any wounds he could and any he couldn’t, make stable enough to last until the Prince could get medical help. It was a miracle that the Prince’s chest remaining almost imperceptibly bobbing up and down in indication of his continued breathing.

As Logan was fastening a fairly tight strip of his overshirt to a sluggishly bleeding arm that appeared to a small part of the blood, the Prince softly groaned, his eyes fluttering open for a moment.

“Shh. Shh. Prince. You’re okay. I’m here to help. I know you’re hurting pretty bad. I’m the bartender from-” And that was all Logan could get out before the Prince’s eyes slipped closed once again.

Unfortunately, the Prince couldn’t move himself since he was unconscious once again. So that only gave Logan one choice. And it would not be comfortable for the Prince.

Logan was going to have to carry him back to the bar. Not for one moment was he going to leave his Prince. Especially with the King running wild and the fact he’d essentially just threatened him!

Janus, the other Knight, would help him keep a level head. Usually it was the other way around.

As Logan picked up the Prince as gingerly as he could, he couldn’t help but wince at the louder groan that came from the unconscious Prince. Even then, Logan's eyes caught how the Prince drew himself up, compressing as small as he could like a child trying not to get hit by their parents.

Nuzzling the Prince's hair with his chin, Logan spoke softly, the vague memories of his childhood in someone’s comforting arms fueling him.

“He won’t touch you ever again!”

Logan stepped out of the alley, back into the biting wind. Yet, Logan didn’t feel cold anymore with the Prince in his arms.

“I promise.”

#(K)Nights of the Red Coat #sanders sides #prohibition era #sanders sides au #logan sanders #janus sanders #roman sanders #mystery #one red coat. two hearts taken #strangers to lovers #alcohol #loceit #loginceit #romantic loceit #romantic loginceit

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thenightwolf51 · 8 months

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"Danny was born a Wayne" AU except he's Bruce's grand uncle. The result of a one time drunken affair, shortly before Kenneth Wayne's death, to a young unmarried woman who gave the baby up for adoption.

(Whether the Fenton's, and therefore Amity, were just ahead of their times or the DC timeline is shifted a bit so that DP happens in its cannon era is up to you. Dealers choice, though now that i know about her i just love badass widowed prohibition leader Laura Elizabeth Wayne)

Danny grows up knowing hes adopted and loved by the Fentons but something (dealer's choice) happens and he loses his family and friends (maybe the whole town goes too?). In an attempt to avoid a Dan situation he flees into the Infinite Realm and doesn't stop.

He just wanders, time passes in its weird Realms way, not that Danny truly notices. A protector spirit thats lossed everything it protected. Its a wonder he doesn't fade and he actually might've if it wasn't for his human side.

But its a tug at his core that brings him from his near catatonic wandering. Gone before he can even understand it but enough to shake him back to himself. Enough to know that hes nowhere near ready to go anywhere familiar so he continues on, his wandering no less pointless but at least he's aware again.

What feels like a relatively short time later he gets another tug, and this time he manages to follow it.

He follows it invisibly through a natural portal that drops him somewhere in New Jersey and all the way to a fancy hospital room in the gloomiest city he's ever seen.

In there he sees his half brother Patrick Wayne, though he wont figure out their connection for a few more years, holding little Agatha. She's adorable in her little dress and pigtails and her sweet face causes that familiar tug he recognizes from what must have been six years ago given the girls age.

Then a nurse comes in and hands a little bundle to what must be the mother (whos name i cant find) and Danny takes one look at the little core tugger who brought him here and just melts. Even without knowing yet that this is his last remaining family, his instincts latch on and he vows to protect and care for the Waynes.

And he does.

He finds his forgetful brother's documents and keeps Aggy company when everyone else is busy and soothes baby Thomas so his poor sister-in-law can get some more sleep. He ices fevers and bruised knees and helps on later games of hide and seek.

He very rarely becomes visible and only to the children. His grief over the Fenton's convinces him its better to protect his new family from the shadows.

Danny explores every inch of the manor, including secret passages and an underground cave system. He claims a forgotten room in the back of the attic as his own, which over the years fill up with knickknacks, heirlooms, and pictures of the family. Even a gift or two from Agatha, who hadn't stopped believing in their shadowy guardian like her brother did when Danny felt they were too old to see him without drawing suspicion.

The manor becomes his haunt and he always knows where each family member is within it. And when any guests have some no good intentions.

And when baby Bruce is born tugging at his core and with the bluest little eyes, he welcomes the fussy little thing. And makes sure dear Martha never knows just how fussy baby Bruce really is, otherwise she might've never had a full nights sleep.

Danny blames himself for not being there when Thomas and Martha die, and promises to never leave Bruces side, practically becoming the boy's living shadow. Watching over him as he gets older, secretly aiding him in his training. Danny feels a bit of pride when Bruce takes some inspiration from the old stories Thomas told him of the shadowy Wayne family protector when creating his Batman identity, glad his nephew still remembers him even if he hasn't shown himself since the now young man was six.

Danny continues to protect and care for the family in a variety of ways over the years even as the family grows.

Lightening Alfred's workload, softening Dick's falls, calming Jason's temper both pre and post pit, hiding Tim's coffee when the boy hasn't slept in far too long, providing plenty of shadows and hiding nooks for Cass, helping Damian hide the litter of kittens he found.

And no one seems to know he's there, except maybe Cass and he's pretty sure Alfred has been know since he first started working for the family. No one knows, that is, until Duke Thomas moves in and lookes right at him watching invisibly from the sidelines.

(@omnicrafts @dcxdpdabbles @hdgnj @ailithnight @nelkcats @im-totally-not-an-alien-2 i dont know, the main point of all this is that Danny's been protecting the Wayne family for decades and no one, except maybe Alfred, knew until Duke moved in)

#dpxdc #danny is a Wayne #danny is the wayne family protector spirit #duke can see ghosts #an alternative of this could be the same background but Danny decides to come in as the preCrisis “Uncle Philip” that initially raised Bruc #if so Agatha would definitely vouch for Danny #there's not much on Agatha Wayne but she seems fun

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