#The note was from Clockwork of course | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

evilminji · 3 months

Text

You know what would be both Cool(tm) AND Pants Shittingly Terrifying? Eldritch Space Whale Danny!

Except NOT! Because he's not a whale! Just snoozing and Giganto-Fuck-Off HUGE!

Imagine it! Danny. Joint Custody Child of The Ancients Of Time And Space. Space is SALTY AF because their BITCH OF AN EX has used his FUCKING POWERS, AGAIN, to CHEAT. Clockwork how DARE YOU.

You knew he'd be our Son in advance!

YOU SNUCK IN AND STARTING BONDING WITH OUR CHILD BEHIND MY BACK!

YOU [REDACTED]!

Danny? Sitting off to the Side as a Sentient Everything and Nothing made of galaxies and starlight, howls expletives at their Ex, who is being... REALLY snippy back? WOW, Clockwork. I mean, JESUS, man. Danny's from "oh bless their heart" Nowhere, Midwest. And even HE thinks that last one was both backhanded and cold af.

......he should take notes. *continues to eat his popcorn*

Anyway! APPARENTLY, Space Parent has taken him in the divorce. With much huffing. Tucked under their arm Like The Football(tm). And honestly? This is kinda hilarious, so he's cool with it. Byyyyyy~ Clock Dad! See you on weekends~☆!

*Exasperated Time Noises*

It's pretty cool! He learns a lot. Learns he's probably? Gonna be SOME variation of Space Ghost. Might even take over Space's... well, EVERYTHING, should the unforeseeable occur. So obviously, gonna have to learn The Family Business, as it were!

Which?

UNSPEAKABLY HYPED, YES PLEASE.

SPACE AND STAR STUFF! HECK YEAH!

Unfortunately? Still a Halfa. Bleh, squishy need to eat and sleep. Why they get in the way of Hyperfixation? Why no more space dust? Nooooo, don't drag him away from the controls! He can still learn! Sleep is for quitters! Cowards! *whining in Give Me Back My Blorbos, You Monsters*

But, no. He apparently has to "take care of his body" and "not burn out". Eat "real food". A protein bar counts! He probably ate one of those! Give him back his STARS! He doesn't CARE if he sounds like a toddler! That's DIRECT ACCESS TO THE SECRETS OF SPACE ITSELF! He'll BITE, so HELP HIM-! *Is scruffed like a cranky infant being carried off to beddy bye*

Injustice! D:<

But, none the less, body's require sleep. He shovles down his food, washes up, and flops down in his bed. In the nice lil cozy "Safe For My Half Apprentice Who Is Also My Adopted Son" corner. He passes out in that corner. Starts to float, as he has done countless times before, when agitated before bed. Floats OUT of that corner.

That Safe Little Corner.

IN THE CENTER, THE BEATING HEART OF SPACE.

You know... the place ALL OF SPACE connects too. Where Universe Form and Die. The Grand Recycler. Dust to Dust, from the ashes of old, to the creation of new. Where PORTALS are randomly assigned. So that the Omniversal Ectoplasmic Levels may always be balanced at near to perfect levels, allowing free flow of Souls through the various Reincarnation cycles.

Space, of course, doesn't MANAGE the Ectoplasm itself. Nor the Souls! Different Ancient for THAT, but they DO manage the PORTALS. We live in a SYSTEM after all. Everyone has their "departments" as it were. So really, it's quiet... Danny? Honey? Awful quiet back there! You, uh, fallen asleep, Starlight?

*empty room*

(O.O)

*inhale* AAAAAAAAAAA-!!!!!!!

Meanwhile! He be Snoozin'! And Ghostin'! Ghost Snoozin'! Is extra comfy, cause he weightless and got not booooones~☆!

But! He? Is not a child anymore! Has learned to... for lack of a better term, Let Go. To finally ACCEPT his Death. His inhumanity. His Amortality. Death no longer holds him, can no longer let him go. He is... not immortal. He is disowned, by his own doing and his own choice, at his timeless moment of Ending.

When Life let go of his hand and Death kindly offered theirs, he did not take it.

And that's okay.

It took awhile. Talking to older ghosts. Most vague and vast, near formless. Because it's... it's scary. And it's all you know. All, really, you've EVER known. Inherent to your identity, even after you leave that part you behind.

You are "human". "Martian" or "Xy'xeruian", something else, and you never question it. Even when you've left behind everything ELSE. Your name, your eyes, your history and skin. Yet you fly around and pretend. Still alive, still human.

But is that YOU?

Or just the form you found your start in?

And like? It's okay if it IS! Sometimes, yeah, you ARE. You look down deep and find a "don't know what you were expecting, buddy" sign stapled to a mirror. But more often? It's that last hurdle. The final step in Letting Go.

Everyone mourns at their own pace.

And they are the ghosts of who they were.

It helped. Mourning for the kid he was. Who was fourteen and wanted to be an astronaut. Who died and will never have a grave. The longer he exsists, for he can't technically be called Alive, the more painfully young that child seems.

It was okay.

To cry for Danny Fenton.

Then? To let him go. Let his memory, be memory. And his Past be the grave that child rests in. Loved dearly and remembered, but no longer binding his soul.

He doesn't have to wear that face anymore.

No tributes to the Dead.

He got? Kinda... BIG. Like REALLY big. Spiraling, serpentine, cracking ice, and burning galaxies. Like a fourth dimensional dragon, of ice and stars, somehow forcing its way into a three dimensional space. Atop it all, between two vast, impossible horns? Made of glacial ice coating the warping hearts of black holes, who's shape themselves seem to shift in unknowable ways? There burns, like comet trails, with super novas, compressed to decorative gems beneath glittering morning frost, a Terrible Crown.

He? Thinks? He MIGHT have wings.

He can't tell.

Because APPARENTLY he's a fuckin tesseract! Oh, no, sorry. He might me a Zone DAMNED PENTERACT!!! Is THIS what he gets for hanging out with Clockwork all the time? He just liked the quiet! Now his "true form" is PHYSICALLY PAINFUL for most people to look at!

Clock Dad WHAT THE HELL?!

(You see, now, why Space broke up with him? An ASSHOLE)

So! Danny stays, usually at least, in his "Hi, yes, I am Normal Human Man" Ghost form. But NOW? Now it PINCHS. Because it's TOO SMALL. But hey, that's fine! It's not like he has an ingrained habit of transforming when super tired and stressed! To float sleep for Maximum Restfulness(tm).

Ha ha!

Why does that feel like foreshadowing?

BECAUSE IT IS!

Danny? Snoozing! Space? Has LOST THE BABY! Portals? Have done a Jood Gob in Portalling, something they are vaguely sure they are supposed to be doing! Yay them! They have no brain cells but still enjoy helping! They moved a thing! That's helpful right? Yay! Probably!

And on DC's planet Earth?

They? Just choked on their fuckin coffee. One moment? La dee daa~ oooh~ look! Stars! Deep space! Oh, hiiii~ Watchtower! The NEXT? *every alarm in the building starts LOSING ITS SHIT* Giant World OBLITERATING SHAPE completely takes up the screen.

From near PLUTO.

There are NO WORDS TO DISCRIBE HOW FUCK OFF BIG THIS THING IS, MR. PRESIDENT. It will eat our nukes and LAUGH. Call! EVERYBODY!!!

Obviously? Superman. I mean really, OF COURSE Superman. Frankly, all the Supers. Because we would like to KEEP having a planet, thanks. Only? The more reports that come in? The more everyone is getting "oh fuck. This is a Workd Eater" vibes.

A massive, massive, Sleeping Titan of a Planet Destroying World Eater.

That MIGHT BE MAGIC.

*highly stressed Everyone noises*

And WORSE? Superman? Can't TOUCH it! Oh sure, at FIRST he could! But then he apparently pushed too hard in just one spot! And it felt POKED AT. So now, after flicking superman HALFWAY BACK TO EARTH to make him stop? No one can physically touch it!

But! There is hope!

Because? The creature is GREEN. Bright, luminous, Lantern Green! And Earth's Lanterns have already sent for back up. Combined? The were able to move a... hand? Paw? Something. But! With the combine forces of several nearby sectors of Lanterns? They promise the power to either relocate the creature or at least hold it in orbit until FURTHER forces can be deployed!

They refuse to harm the creature until it proves actively hostile, as it could have been seeking a place to nap and chosen one inconvenient to established planetary life. Frankly? Earth doesn't CARE where you relocate the giant Eldritch Space Dragon. Just NOT IN OUR BACKYARD, PLEASE.

....YES WE ARE SURE! We don't CARE if the scientific community of our planet is begging you to set up an area for them to place an "observation satellite"! No giant Eldritch Space Dragons in our solar system! It might WAKE UP!

Naturally, about half way THROUGH this Highly Delicate Operation?

Danny Wakes Up.

@hypewinter @hdgnj @lolottes @babbling-babull @nerdpoe @the-witchhunter @mutable-manifestation

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #danny phantom #minji's writing

2K notes · View notes

zylev-blog · 5 months

Text

Danny was pissed. He was chilling in the Speedforce, waiting on his dad—the Flash—to show up when he felt something shift around him. He exited the speedforce to find that the timeline had changed again, and he had been written out of the timeline. He technically was a time anomaly now, and didn’t exist. So he talked to Clockwork, a ghost he’d gotten to know extremely well after Danny’s creation.

Danny was a clone of the Flash and Green Lantern(Hal Jordan) as part of an experiment that Lex Luthor had taken prior to cloning Superboy. Lex had wanted to know if the power ring was able to transmit anything genetically (it couldn’t. It was a wearable weapon, not a genetic thing.) but Danny had inherited Flash’s superspeed, so he wasn’t a complete loss. Danny wasn’t sure if he looked more like either man, considering they both wore masks. He had brown hair and green eyes. Beyond that, he tanned well, was tall for his age, and packed on muscle far easier than the Flash did. He hadn’t ever seen either man out of the costume.

After a talk with Clockwork, he decided he was just going to force his way back into his Dad’s life. Both of them, if possible. He arrived years before his creation by mistake, right near the start of the Justice League. By his estimates, the team had only been formed for a year before he’d arrived. It was strange; he both didn’t exist and was from the future. He guessed that it was around nine years before his birth, and since he was technically six months old, he was 9 years in the past. Thinking about this was going to give him a headache.

The Justice League was severely mistrustful of each other. They didn’t go out of their way for teamups, didn’t have weekly meetings, and almost pretended if the other members didn’t exist. The most recluse of them was Batman, of course. If any hero set foot in Gotham, they were booted out before they even got to downtown. Danny highly suspected Batman had the entire city on camera. The situation was weirding him out more than before. What had happened to the team?! He was used to everyone being one big family, and even the sidekicks having their own teams… speaking of sidekicks, why was Robin so small?! Wait a minute, that wasn’t the third Robin that he was used to, that was the first Robin! Baby Nightwing!

Thankfully for him, he still had his costume on this entire time as he zipped around the country, spying on the younger members of the Justice League. It was surreal watching everyone try to capture him, but he wasn’t going to be caught that easily!

Eventually his presence forced the Justice League into another teamup. Batman laid the trap out, and Flash lured him into it. The plan was so beautiful that he didn’t even realize it was a trap until he was caught in it. Green Lantern took off Danny’s mask, and for the first time, he looked at his fathers without a mask. They didn’t make the connection to him right away. It wasn’t until Wonder Woman’s lasso made its way around his wrist that the truth finally came out.

“Who are you?” Wonder Woman asked.

“Oof , hard question—ow ow oww—I’m being honest!” He struggled against the lasso as it started to burn him. “My designation was Dn-y, I go by Danny, though. I’m a clone.”

“Of who?” Batman demanded.

“Flash and Green Lantern.” The lasso was glowing brightly, indicating that he was telling the truth.

“How did you escape?” Flash asked.

He didn’t answer right away. He was trying to think about how to phrase the whole time traveling—timeline erasure thing when the lasso started to burn him again. “Ow ow! Sorry, I’m thinking! Ow! Turn down the settings on that thing, holy shit—okay, okay.” He winced, his words coming out in one breath as he quickly talked, “What do you know about time travel?”

Diana’s eyebrows were rising. “How are you able to resist the lasso for so long?”

“I’m not really resisting it.” He answered, noting the obvious deflect of his last question, “I just-oww—okay! My mind moves too fast for me to put into words sometimes and it makes me stop to think about it, but like, I’m not good at controlling the speed in which I speak all the time—owww make this thing stop burning me! I’m speaking honestly!”

Diana revoked the lasso, and he rubbed his wrist where his costume was starting to singe. He was still trapped in an anti-speedster prison, so it wasn’t exactly like he was going anywhere anyway.

“Why were you asking about time travel?” Batman asked.

“Based on the crickets chirping I heard earlier, that leads me to believe you guys haven’t had any experience in it yet.” He leaned against the wall of the prison, wincing as it shocked him with electricity. “Seriously? How paranoid are you, Batman?” He rubbed his shoulder. “Honestly, I don’t know what I was expecting with you people, but I feel so attacked right now.”

“So we have experience with it in the future?” Superman piped up.

“Yeah?” His tone of voice equated to a ‘duh’ tone. “Why would I ask what you knew if I wasn’t from the future?”

“How far in the future are you from?” Green Lantern asked.

“Nine years, maybe close to ten? Timelines are weird. I’m technically six months old, but at the same time I’m sixteen. Cloning is odd, but I was like, the first clone ever, so I don’t really have a basis for this sort of thing, if you catch my drift.” He shrugged. He seemed like he talked a lot more than the heroes did, but he didn’t know if that was because he was a chatterbox, or because they weren’t comfortable in each other’s presence. Either way, the silence was odd to him.

“How did you end up here?” Batman asked.

“Honestly? I don’t fully know. Don’t give me that look, Diana! I’m telling the truth.” He added quickly as Diana fingered her lasso again. “All I know is one minute, I’m chilling in the Speedforce, and the next, the timeline is changed and I’m nine years too early for my birth. You’d think the timeline would at least have the decency to spit me out in my own year, but nooo, it wanted to—“

“What’s the Speedforce?” Superman interrupted.

He tilted his head at Superman’s question, then turned to the Flash. “How long have you had your powers?”

Flash shifted uncomfortably. “Two years.”

“Oh boy.” Danny’s green eyes widened. “You don’t know anything about them, do you?”

“I do know things!” Flash deflected, “My suit doesn’t catch on fire anymore! I can run up to Mach 2! I can get from either end of the country in thirty minutes!”

He groaned loudly. “Oh no. Oh no.” He chewed on his thumb, trying to recall everything he’d learned about his powers from his Flash. While he hadn’t learned his or Green Lantern’s identity yet, he knew almost everything about their hero personas and a lot of personal information. They were just worried of the Cadmus connection and didn’t want their identity to fall into the wrong hands if they still could see inside of Danny’s head.

“What’s wrong?” Diana asked.

“Okay.” He ran his hands through his brown hair, making it spike up. “Hypothetically—“ he cut himself off as Batman glared at him. “Okay, totally real, but uh, Flash, let’s just say that I’m faster than you right now. A lot faster.”

“How much?” Flash took a step forward, obviously curious.

“From what we can tell, I’ve topped out at Mach nine.” He responded with a dry laugh, “But your speed was still a lot faster than mine. You’d never tell me what it was. I’m still growing though, and I’m getting faster. I’m able to beat my precious time by almost double each time we test. But my situation was complicated, and things were happening, and it was a mess.”

“Like what?” Superman asked.

“World war three. I think?” He rubbed the back of his neck, a gesture that he had picked up from Green Lantern, “Things got complicated. That’s why I was going to wait for…” his eyebrows scrunched together as the last piece of the puzzle clicked into place. “It was you!” He turned to Flash. “You!” He jabbed a finger at the speedster. “You set this up! You set ME up!”

The heroes took fighting stances, but Superman took a step forward, blocking them from Danny. “What are you talking about?”

“Okay okay.” He was trying to calm down his anger, but he had been told by Green Lantern in the past that he had inherited the man’s anger issues. “Let me start at the beginning. This is going to be a long story, you might want to take a seat.”

Nobody moved, but everyone was tense.

“Or not. Okay. So my creation starts with Lex Luthor.” He noticed Superman stiffen. “He used me as his trial, if you will. Once he got a successful attempt at cloning—me—he moved onto his real target. Cloning Superman.” Danny’s green eyes hovered onto Superman’s blue ones. “He was successful.”

“What happened?” Superman’s voice was unnaturally quiet.

“Well, at first, Conner wasn’t showing that he had all the powers of Superman. So Lex tossed him aside and tried again. The second attempt was more successful than the first. But cloning Kryptonian dna was hard, I guess.” He shrugged. “The second clone lacked basic emotions. Empathy, remorse… it made him the perfect little weapon for Lex. But eventually, the clone’s anger and Lex’s greed got to a point of no return. Lex was elected President of the United States and uh…you can probably see where this is going, right? While the fighting hadn’t like…’officially’ started,” He used his fingers to create air quotes around the word ‘officially’, “Things were getting tense. See, we couldn’t take the clone down because Lex had wrote out the Kryptonite deficiency out of his weakness. And the clone had all the strength of Superman and none of his remorse…”

Superman looked pale. “I see.”

“So Flash and I came up with a plan.” He turned back to his father, “We were going to travel into the next dimension for help. From what we could tell, that dimension was full of god-like beings, and one of them actually helped me out earlier! But for a lot of them, they ask for a price for their help. But anyway, Flash and I were going to take our case to the King and plead for help. I was waiting for Flash when the timeline reset and I found out that not only did I not exist, but I was nine years too early.”

“What are you going to do now?” Green Lantern asked.

“Dunno,” His voice dropped as the reality hit him. He wasn’t going home—his home didn’t exist anymore.

#dp x dc au #dp x dc writing prompt #dp x dc #dp x dc fanfic #dp x dc prompt #dp dc crossover #danny phantom crossover #dp x dc crossover #danny phantom #dp crossover #dpxdc prompts #dpxdc #dcxdp #Danny is a clone #green lantern #the flash #time travel #speed force

2K notes · View notes

egcdeath · 10 days

Text

something old, something new

pairing: patrick zweig x f!reader

summary: when your childhood best friend asks you to get married, how are you supposed to say no?

word count: 7.2k

warnings: MATURE (mentions of sex but no explicit sex scenes), marriage of convenience, fluff, mentions of alcohol, patrick is a bad friend (but he improves), friends to spouses to lovers, fake dating, yearning and pining, everyone is bad at communicating, many feelings are being repressed, mentions of dieting in an athlete way, one singular creepy old man, no use of y/n

author’s note: i cannot get this tennis man out of my head!! i hope you all enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it!

It wasn’t every day that you could count on hearing anything from your childhood best friend, but it seemed like whenever you did hear from Patrick Zweig, it was always an ask for something more shocking than the previous one.

As kids, you spent many evenings doing the homework that Patrick didn’t want to do, despite the fact that you didn’t really want to do more homework either. At boarding school, you’d somehow become his personal designated driver, answering his calls no matter what time and groggily picking him up from whatever party he’d found himself at. In your adulthood, you found yourself becoming a go-to stand-in for him at events he didn’t feel like attending. The amount of times that you’d shaken hands at charity galas and introduced yourself as Patrick’s girlfriend, despite not having a single romantic encounter with him, was frankly astounding.

It seemed like whenever Patrick needed something, you were the first person he reached out to. After his parents, of course.

You dreaded knowing the reason behind the simple hey, text message you’d just received, but you were sure that you’d find the reason out sooner rather than later–and that whatever the reason was could not have been good.

Like clockwork, only an hour after you’d received his message, Patrick appeared at the doorway of your apartment. He came to you equipped with his secret weapon, the kicked puppy look that he often used on you before he asked you for a ridiculous favor, like breaking up with his girlfriend for him or telling his mom that he still wasn’t joining the board of the family business.

You sighed as you took his less-than-stellar appearance in. Downtrodden expression, wrinkled and sweat-stained shirt, as if he’d gone to the gym to sweat out his feelings before coming to you, and eyes so red-rimmed, you wondered if he’d been crying.

If you had to guess, he’d either been arguing with his parents, who knew exactly how to get under his skin, or his tennis friends, who also knew exactly how to get under his skin, or his latest girlfriend, who probably confronted him about his own wrongdoings. Regardless of who had upset him, he had obviously come to you to lick his wounds.

Like always, Patrick stalked inside without asking you for any further permission. The two of you had done this song and dance more times than either one of you would like to admit.

“How are you?” he asked, stopping in your kitchen to steal an apple from your decorative bowl of fruit.

“I’m good,” you said with hesitation, eyeing him once more. He really looked like shit. If he hadn’t looked so sad, you would’ve told him exactly how much shit he looked like.

“Aren’t you gonna ask me how I am?” he questioned, a little pathetically.

“No,” you walked off to your living room, fully expecting him to follow you. You were unsurprised when he did exactly that. “Let’s just get right to it. Why’d you come over here?” you asked as the two of you sat down on your couch.

“My parents are cutting me off,” he explained, voice breaking as he spoke.

Surely, this couldn’t all be over an empty threat. They seemed to threaten Patrick with this every few days. In fact, you’d been in the room with him when his parents promised that he’d never see another dime from them–more than once. Every time, it ended with them coming to their senses and throwing more cash at him.

“That’s what, the twentieth time?” you laughed. “They always threaten to cut you off. What’s different this time?”

“This time, they mean it.”

You laughed even harder in his face. If you had a quarter for every time you’d had this conversation, you’d be richer than the two of your families combined.

“I’m serious,” he inched closer to you. “They’re tired of funding my ‘tennis habit’. They want me to get serious about life. To join the board and start a family. My dad showed me an edited draft of his will and everything”

“So?” you prompted, trying to figure out where you fell into the equation. Hopefully he wouldn’t try to put you up to something absurd, like seducing his father into convincing him to not threaten Patrick’s inheritance.

“So, tennis is the only thing I care about.”

“Okay…” you trailed off. “What would you like me to do about that?”

“I need you to help show my parents that I have a vision for the future.”

“Again, Patrick, what exactly are you asking me to do?”

“Marry me.”

You weren’t sure what you expected him to say, but it certainly was not that. Your mouth instantly dropped open and you were sure that you were gaping like a fish. Maybe if he had asked you ten years ago, you’d have instantly said yes, but you’d let that naive dream die after you’d come to realize the transactional subtext of your friendship.

“What?”

“I want you to marry me. I was thinking… you remember when we were younger and we made that pact, that if we weren’t married by the time we were adults, then we’d get hitched?”

You continued to stare at him, completely dumbfounded and not believing a single word coming from his mouth. “I… I…” you couldn’t even form the words. “We were kids!”

He gave you a halfhearted shrug, as if that didn’t matter at all, and as if he didn’t just ask you to be legally and romantically bound to him forever.

“You are fucking unbelievable! You haven't talked to me for anything other than asking me a favor in years, I barely know you’re alive apart from the random drunk texts you send me, and now you want me to marry you? Do you even hear yourself?”

You scoffed and stared at him in disbelief. “And that has to be the worst proposal in all of human history. First you tell me that tennis is the only thing you care about and then ask me to marry you? You’re a joke.”

He let you finish your rant, but after a beat he finally asked. “…Is that a no?”

———-

Stranger things had happened to you than marrying your childhood best friend just a month after he’d randomly popped back up in your life. At least, that’s what you told yourself as you walked down the aisle on a beautiful beach off of the Amalfi Coast.

The last few weeks had been an absolute whirlwind, with what felt like every second of your time consumed by making guest lists and invitations, booking hotel rooms, and finding a dress that you liked enough to get married in. Obviously, you knew this was more of an elaborate scheme than a celebration of love, but you wanted it to be nice anyway. For all you knew, you may never get married again.

You don’t know what possessed you to say yes to Patrick. Maybe the small, desperate part of you that had been begging him to truly see you since you were old enough to realize he didn’t, or maybe the desire to finally have that fairytale destination wedding you’d been dreaming about from the time you learned what a wedding was. Regardless of the reason, both of your families were overjoyed by the union. In one fell swoop, you’d been able to satisfy both of your parents’ desires for you to settle down, and you’d done it with someone both pairs approved of.

You had to give props to Patrick, the ceremony was beautiful. Given the short timeline, the two of you decided to divide and conquer the planning of the event. You were sure that he’d outsourced the work, since he was still in the middle of his tennis season, but whoever he hired did an excellent job at giving you the wedding you’d always wanted.

Despite the very short timeline everyone had been given, you were able to wrangle all of your close family and friends to Italy to watch you elope. Your parents had insisted on inviting second cousins and shareholders to your wedding, but you’d somehow convinced them that you and Patrick wanted a smaller, more intimate ceremony. It was probably better to have less people there, lest someone notices the artificial nature of your union.

Part of you felt like you’d pulled off the greatest prank of all time as the two of you stood up in front of your small crowd, gazing as lovingly as you could manage into each others’ eyes while the officiant said his spiel, but the other, more logical part of you filled with dread as the reality of the situation began to set in. Patrick seemed to have a way of always dragging you into a shitty situation, and you hoped for both of your sakes, that that wouldn’t be the case for your marriage.

After what felt like a lifetime, Patrick began to recite his vows, claiming to have loved you since you were children, and promising to continue to love you ‘till death did you part. If you had been marrying literally anyone else, your knees would go weak with swooning.

Unfortunately, you were cursed with the knowledge of the reality of your situation, one where your vows sounded more like: “We only have to stay married until I retire, which should be sooner rather than later. We don’t have to do anything together: no galas, no family dinners, no family vacations. Hell, you don’t even have to come to my games. And we don’t have to be exclusive either. This is basically just a title, so feel free to see anyone you want to. I can already see the worry in your face. Stop that. We can hire someone to make us prenups, so the divorce will be an easy, clean split of our assets. See? It’s not that bad.”

The dichotomy between the words he’d said to you a month ago and the bullshit he was spewing now almost made you laugh, but that was clearly not the reaction you were meant to be having when the love of your life was publicly declaring their feelings for you.

Once he finished declaring his romantic, empty words, you began to read off your vows. They fell in a similar vein to his, a proclamation of a lifetime-spanning love that didn’t really exist in the first place. But when you glanced up at him from your slip of paper, he was really selling it. He stared at you like he adored you, like he wanted to study every inch of your face after running off with you into the sunset.

The ridiculousness of it all finally hit you like a freight train, and you managed to pivot the laugh that was creeping up into your throat into a weepy sounding crack of your voice. Surely people cried during their own weddings.

You finished off your vows, doing your best to pretend like this whole ordeal wasn’t the most ridiculous scheme you’d ever been dragged into. You imagined a world where he was less selfish and you were less selfless, one where you were exchanging these vows with sincerity, and it helped you to get through the words that you knew were almost completely meaningless.

The two of you then took turns placing the ring on each others’ fingers, with Patrick giving you a ring with the largest diamond you’d ever seen, and you giving him a band that had been passed throughout your family. He’d agreed to give you the heirloom back once you divorced, so you couldn’t complain too much about giving it away in the first place.

The announcement of being able to kiss the bride rang out in your ears, yet you still found yourself surprised when Patrick eagerly wrapped his arms around you and kissed you passionately. Cheers erupted around the two of you, and you pulled away as the officiant declared you Mr. and Mrs. Zweig.

You had successfully tricked your audience, and yet, you still had the strangest feeling.

Your reception felt far more natural than your wedding ceremony. After a change of outfit, a huge bowl of pasta, and a few flutes of champagne, you were feeling substantially better about the arguably poor decision you’d just made. You chatted up your friends, who jumped at the opportunity to comment on how cute of a couple you two were, did some light matchmaking between single guests, and placated both of your parents with manufactured acts of affection. You even managed to get Patrick out on the dance floor, after he swore to you that he didn’t dance.

By the time the two of you were stumbling back into your villa, the woes of the day had practically been forgotten. When you were having this much fun, who cared about a massive, potentially life altering decision?

You immediately made a beeline to the bathroom, anxious to get into your comfortable pajamas and to wash your face after a long day of wearing tight, extravagant dresses and a heavy layer of makeup.

“So what did you think of your big day, Mrs. Zweig?” Patrick called out from the other side of the bathroom door, where you were sure he was also preparing for bed. “Was it everything you wanted and more?”

“I think this is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done,” you paused as you thought about something before confessing, “but it was everything I wanted and more.”

“Yes!” he celebrated from where you couldn’t see him, though you could perfectly envision the goofy look on his face. “I owe it to you after everything I’ve put you through. I just hope you weren’t too let down by the groom.”

“What?” you drew out before blowing a raspberry. “Of course not. You looked very handsome today,” you complimented in between splashes of your face.

“You looked pretty beautiful, yourself,” he complimented you right back.

“Aww, thank you, honey,” you emphasized the pet name.

“Hmm, I don’t know if I like that,” you heard the squeak of the bed from behind the door as you assumed that he’d sat down.

“Hey, you’re the one who made me marry you,” you pointed out. “Am I more than you bargained for?”

“Of course not, babe,” he emphasized his own pet name, which sent you into a fit of laughter. “It’s just so weird to hear you refer to me as anything other than an asshole.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, you’re still an asshole,” you replied as you walked out of the bathroom, donning an old shirt with the logo of your boarding school and an equally old pair of shorts. “Just a married asshole.”

You took in the sight of your now-husband as you made your way to your side of the bed, surprised to find that you quite liked the sense of domestic bliss you were feeling. The bed dipped as you sat down and glanced back at Patrick with the slightest bit of hesitation.

“Is this weird for you? I can go to the spare room, if you want me to,” he offered, surely in reference to the two of you sleeping in the same bed.

“Don’t worry about it,” you assured him, setting a steady hand on his knee. “What kind of couple would we be if we didn’t spend our wedding night together?” you teased.

“The kind of couple that marries for convenience?” he suggested.

“Hey, who’s to say that this isn’t love? I had the biggest crush on you when we were kids. Maybe some of it lingered, or some shit.”

“Oh yeah?” he looked at you with that sleazy smirk that you both loved and hated. “What happened?”

“Hmm… I think I realized that you’re a dick,” you matched his smirk with a challenging one of your own.

“Huh. Did you have this realization before or after you started seeing Dan Thompson?” he questioned.

You were surprised by the mention of your first boyfriend, particularly because you weren’t sure that Patrick remembered any detail about your personal life, let alone your love life. “I realized it after you started treating me like your workhorse.”

“Oh okay, so you had a crush on me while you were with your boyfriend. Good to know.”

“Shut up,” you groaned and turned away from him as you finally full laid down.

“Would it make you feel better to know that I also had a crush on you?” you heard the bed sheets rustle as he scooted closer to you, and you turned back to face him.

“You’re lying.” You couldn’t see any world where that would make sense to you. In your youth, it seemed like Patrick was always off somewhere with a new person, and none of those people were you. Not that you had an issue with it, but the thought that the two of you might’ve had crushes on each other at the same time without either of you pursuing each other felt kind of weird.

“Nope. You’re the first person I ever jerked off to,” he said as casually as if he were telling you what he ate for breakfast, not breaking eye contact with you.

“Ew, you’re so gross,” you gently pushed him, but your hands lingered where they sat on his chest. “Was that supposed to be romantic or something?”

“That’s not romantic to you?” he asked with all the sincerity of someone who was fully committing to a bit.

The two of you broke out into laughter. Once you finally caught your breath, you began once more. “This is gonna be a long marriage.”

“Hopefully,” he remarked in response.

“If you keep talking to me like that, I will literally go get our marriage annulled, like right now.”

“Please don’t,” he whined, grabbing one of your hands from his chest and kissing your fingers. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“Every time you promise to make something up to me, an inconsistent fairy gains its wings.”

“Hey,” his tone suddenly became very serious, completely catching you off guard. “I really am sorry that I’ve been a terrible friend. I don’t know that I’ve ever said it, but I am. You deserve so much better than me, and I don’t even know how I convinced you to do this for me.”

You almost started to laugh, unable to take the absurd situation seriously. You’d been waiting years to hear him genuinely apologize, and now hours after you’d married solely as a favor to him, he was finally telling you what you wanted to hear.

“Please. I’m serious. I know you think I’m a piece of shit flaky ashhole, and I am, but I want to be a better husband to you than I ever was as a friend.”

You felt your heart stop beating for a second. The word husband sounded so foreign in his mouth. You couldn’t quite pin how you felt about it, but you knew you felt uncomfortable with the intimacy of his words.

“Patrick, please shut up,” you squeezed your eyes shut, suddenly a little overwhelmed with the Patrick of it all. In fact, you couldn’t think of anything more encapsulating of your experience with him than the whiplash you got from that moment. He could be a complete asshat, but his occasional moments of earnestness kept you following him like a lost puppy, accepting his apologies and granting him ridiculous favors, despite your better judgment.

“Are you okay?” he asked, moving closer to you to get a good look at you. You swore you felt your heart squeeze painfully in your chest.

“I’m fine, I just-“ am overwhelmed by you being sweet? Can’t believe that I’m hearing you say this to me after so long? Also can’t believe that you and I are married?

None of the right words seemed to come to you, so you did the second best thing you could think of.

You pecked his lips and pulled away as if you’d just touched a hot handle. You didn’t know what had come over you, and immediately began to apologize profusely.

“Oh my god, I don’t know-“ you were cut off by his hands on your face, greedily and sloppily pulling you back in for another kiss, this one far more passionate and confident than the first.

Your kiss was messy but fervent, years of pent up sexual frustration and non-sexual frustration behind your every movement. As you kissed, you moved to straddle him, feeling a little ridiculous in your ratty old clothes, but that didn’t stop him from groping you over your pajamas like you were the hottest thing on the planet.

Maybe the strangest thing to happen to you that day wasn’t even your wedding.

——

That night was the first in a series of very strange events. You couldn’t even fully wrap your head around what was happening in your marriage. You just knew that the two of you had become closer friends than you’d ever been before, and that you slept together when either of you had the urge. It was basically a no strings attached situation, except, legally, all strings were attached.

If you were confused by your arrangement, you were sure that your friends were even more lost, something they proved to you as they interrogated you over brunch.

“So, just so we’re clear, you married him as a favor?!” your friend asked in complete disbelief.

“Well… yeah, basically.”

“Shit. Can I ask you for a favor of a million dollars?” she joked, leading to the laughter of your other friends at the table.

“Well, that’s different. At least with our marriage, we both benefit. He gets his parents off his ass about being so focused on tennis that he doesn’t have any future prospects, and I get my parents to stop trying to marry me off to every single rich boy they find.”

“But you’re not like, actually married. Like you guys don’t have feelings for each other?” another friend questioned.

You sipped your mimosa before explaining your situation for what must’ve been the fifth time that day, “we’re basically friends with benefits.”

“But you’re legally married? Like, the wedding was official and stuff?”

“Legally? Yeah. But it’s literally just that,” you clarified.

“Legal marriage and sex?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, hoping that they were finally catching on.

“Then… are you guys seeing other people?”

“Oh yeah, what ever happened to that one model guy you were seeing?” another one of your friends pitched in.

“It didn’t really work out,” you addressed that with an understatement. He rightfully flipped his shit when he found out you were going to be marrying someone else. “But neither of us are seeing other people. I don’t think either of us want to risk bringing anything back to one another.”

“That sounds pretty committed to me.”

“Not really,” you dismissed.

“Then why are you even together?”

“How many times do I have to explain how we both benefit from this?”

“No, not legally, or socially or whatever. Why are you hooking up with him? Aren’t you scared you’ll mess up your friendship or something?”

“Well, the sex is really, really good. But I’m really not worried. There's no romance between us. We’ve been friends for so long that it’s just… weird to look at him like anything other than my friend. It’s basically a loveless marriage of convenience.”

Your friend shot you a skeptical look. You just shrugged her off.

———

The moment you found out your afternoon meeting had been canceled, you reached out to your assistant to make arrangements for you to go to Patrick’s tennis game. He’d been on a winning streak, and though he insisted that you didn’t need to come to his games, you knew that he secretly liked having you there.

Over the past few months of your marriage, you’d grown to realize that he often didn’t say what he actually meant. Like the time he told you that he preferred to live alone, before breathily confessing in your ear that he slept better by your side. Or when he swore to you that he loved the pancakes you’d served him, despite the food being some of the worst you’d ever put in our mouth and him being on a diet. You almost found it sweet that he tried to prioritize your feelings over his own, which was surely a result of overcompensation from the way he had treated you for the majority of your lives.

You arrived at his match just in time to watch him take a break, making your way into the stands and finding a seat where you’d have the best view of your friend as possible. You didn’t expect him to scan the audience and find you until much later on, but you were pleasantly surprised when the two of you made eye contact and he absolutely lit up. You waved, then gave him a thumbs up in hopes to communicate your support from far away.

While you couldn’t always make it, you liked to play the role of supportive tennis wife. Getting dressed up and making an appearance not only publicly legitimized your sham of a marriage, but helped you to reconnect with some of your former boarding school classmates, who were often in the stands supporting a friend or a loved one. You also just liked to watch him play, as witnessing the passion and ferocity he had out on the court was extremely entertaining, and even at times, mildly arousing.

With their break ending, Patrick went back out on the court and played just as well as you expected him to, crushing his competition, and looking up into the stands at you to celebrate once he’d scored the winning point.

At first, it was surprising how proud his wins made you feel of him, a feeling that you explained to yourself by arguing that if he wasn’t giving his absolute all to tennis, then your marriage had basically been all for nothing. Although that did still ring slightly true, the truth was that you were simply proud of Patrick. Whether you liked it or not, the two of you were a unit now, which meant that his wins were your wins and vice versa. In some ways, it was kind of nice to be part of a team. Or at least his team.

You met Patrick down on the court, where he paused from packing his bag to immediately greet you with a kiss to the forehead, a small act of intimacy that was typically reserved for situations far different from the one you were currently in.

“Hey! I didn’t know you were coming!” he exclaimed, pulling you in for a half-hug.

“I didn’t know I was coming either,” you instinctually wrapped your arm around him in response to his half-hug. “Great job out there. You kinda demolished him!”

“I did, didn’t I,” he said just loud enough for you to hear, still wanting to appear like a good sport. “I have to go get ready for the press conference. Do you want to meet me at my hotel?”

“Of course. You don’t mind me staying for the night?” you probed, despite knowing the answer. He wouldn’t have asked you to go to his hotel in the first place if he’d minded.

“You know I never mind you staying for the night,” he gave you a cheeky wink.

“You’re so sleazy,” you commented with fake disgust.

“You started it,” he replied, reluctantly pulling away from you and reaching into his bag to grab his hotel keycard. “I’ll text you when I’m heading back.”

The moment you received a message about him being on his way to the hotel, you made a very lengthy phone call and request to the restaurant in the building. Technically, he shouldn’t be eating any of what you ordered, on account of him being on a strict diet plan, but you figured that he deserved it after playing the way that he did. Besides, Patrick liked thoughtful acts of service, and you figured that this would count as one.

“You know me so well,” he practically gasped as he stepped into the room, taking in the platters of food you’d laid out for him.

“What kind of wife would I be if I didn’t?” you teased, though your sentiment was somewhat accurate, and it was clear that the two of you had grown to know each other far better over the past few months, you hoped that your friend wasn’t interpreting your words in too serious of a way.

The two of you laid out on the pristine hotel bed, eating the feast that you’d ordered without much dialogue between you, other than a comment on how good something was, or a request to pass an item to one another. It felt oddly domestic, and oddly enough, you liked it. Maybe you liked it even more than you’d been willing to admit.

“I’m gonna go shower,” he announced after tossing his napkin onto a cleared off plate.

“Want some company?” you offered, raising your brows at him in a playfully suggestive manner.

“Is that what this is all about?” he feigned offense.

“Maybe,” you trailed off. “Or maybe I just wanted to celebrate the greatest tennis player of all time,” you purred.

“Come on. You and I both know that is far from the truth.”

“Well you’re the greatest player in my heart,” you praised, much to his chagrin.

“Ugh. Shut up and come shower with me.”

As you sleepily ran your fingers through his damp hair, you were surprised when he broke his silence with a comment seemingly out of the blue. It was more of a mumble than anything else, but you’d grown accustomed to his muffled words over the course of your marriage.

“You’re so beautiful,” he randomly complimented you.

“You know you don’t have to compliment me to get into my pants, right?” you asked with a hint of laughter in your tone.

“I’m not trying to,” he pecked your arm–the limb he had the easiest access to at the moment–as if he was trying to emphasize his point, though all it did was bring heat to your cheeks at the reminder of the way he’d pressed slow and meaningful kisses along your calves and inner thighs while the two of you were in the shower. “You just looked so good today, I couldn’t not comment.”

“I don’t look good every day?” you asked facetiously, trying to deflect from the warm and fuzzy feeling his compliments and affection were making you feel.

“Of course you always look good,” he reassured you rather than playing along with your game of joking instead of addressing your feelings. “I just don’t tell you that enough.”

You weren’t even sure how you could respond to that. Clearly, he wasn’t in the mood to mince words tonight, but you couldn’t bear to match his genuinity with cheap jokes. The only real, genuine thought to pop into your head were three ridiculous words that you immediately batted away. You couldn’t think of anything more embarrassing than randomly declaring your love to a husband who wasn’t really your husband in a marriage that wasn’t really a marriage.

Out of ideas, you hit the lamp on your side of the bed. “I appreciate it. Goodnight.”

“Night,” he parroted back to you, remaining snug against your chest, despite the fact that your hands had stopped threading through his hair.

Deep down, you knew that those three words had been on the tip of Patrick’s tongue, too.

——

Being in the social circles of filthily rich people meant you often found yourself at random charity events, hosted by the nonprofits of families and business owners looking for a particularly large tax break for the year. Over the years, you’d felt that you’d seen and participated in it all: marathons raising awareness for a serious, but extremely rare disease, date auctions to raise money for a cause that certainly didn’t justify you having to go on a date with a man almost forty years your senior, or galas for nearly-extinct sea creatures that were essentially used as an excuse to stand around and network while drinking expensive alcohol and eating hor d'oeuvres.

You seemed to find yourself at a lot of events like the latter, including the one you were standing at now. The gala, which took place in the art exhibit it was raising money for, was a rather standard one, filled with the typical suspects who regularly attended those events.

It was slightly ironic to be at the event with Patrick as your plus one, as this was the exact type of event he would’ve texted you about an hour before it began to ask if you would play his concerned partner for the night who told everyone a flimsy excuse about him being under the weather.

It also served as somewhat of a reminder to you of the massive growth that your friend had undergone since the two of you became legally bound to one another. It finally felt like Patrick saw you as a true friend, instead of a reliable person who would do his dirty work. It finally felt like he cared. In some ways, your marriage was the best thing to happen to your friendship.

Patrick returned to where you were standing, this time with two flutes of champagne and a delicious looking appetizer in his hand.

“You’re too kind,” you said as he passed you your drink.

“Anything for my wife,” he mockingly bowed in front of you and you chuckled and shook your head. Over the past year, the two of you slowly became slightly more comfortable with referencing each other as husband and wife, but only really as a joke. You guessed that in a lot of ways, that’s what your marriage was—a ridiculous inside joke.

He was just about to feed you a hor d'oeuvre when you were approached by a wildly unwelcome figure: the man who had purchased a date with you a few years ago. Despite your one very awkward, stilted date, he never really seemed to get over you–which he made a point to prove at every event you both happened to be at. And unfortunately for you, his generous donations landed him on the guest list for the majority of these events.

You were used to fighting him off on your own, as he seemed to come and flirt with you regardless of how inappropriate it was for the setting of the event, or even when he already had a beautiful young bombshell hanging on his arm. At this point, you’d learned to just tune his every word out and flee as soon as you possibly could. He was annoying, but he wasn’t dangerous.

“Hey, honey,” he greeted you way too comfortably. You’d given up on asking him to call you by your name a very long time ago.

“Hi, John,” you reached out to shake his hand and cringed internally when he kissed the back of your hand.

“Oh honey, who is this?” Patrick immediately lept in, surprising you with his unsubtle passive aggressive tone and ridiculous use of a pet name.

“You don’t remember me? I swear, we’ve met a few times.” John asked, trying to smile despite clearly being agitated by the presence of competition.

“Some people are more forgettable than others,” he said with a shrug. “How do you know my wife?” He emphasized the word and you pushed down the small inkling of pride you were feeling. Whether it was from watching Patrick try to scare this annoying man away from you, or being so proudly referred to as his wife, you couldn’t be sure.

“Finally settling down, eh?” he directed at you, then directed his next statement to Patrick. “We went on a date back in the day.”

“It was for that one date auction thing,” you quickly added context, but paused when you took in John’s less than pleased look. He was a large donor at your own family’s nonprofit, and you were sure that your parents wouldn’t be too pleased with you if they found out he pulled out over you hurting his feelings. “We had a lot of fun, though.”

“We definitely did,” he chuckled and smirked. You wanted to punch him in the mouth. “We should definitely do it again sometime.”

It was clear that Patrick was not taking kindly to seeing you be flirted with so brazenly in front of him. Part of you wondered why he would be possessive, since part of your initial deal was that you could see whoever you wanted, even if that happened to be a creepy old man with a lot of money. The other part of you was enjoying seeing him so fired up. Particularly, seeing him fired up over you.

“Our schedule is just so busy. Between work and us trying to start a family, I just don’t know when we’ll have time to see you again.”

Trying to start a family? That was definitely news to you. Although, the idea didn’t sound awful. Wasn’t it everyone’s dream to start a family with their closest, most dear friend?

“Well, she knows where to find me, right, honey?”

“Mhm,” you mumbled, looking into your glass like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

“Now if you don’t mind, my wife and I are going to go check out the exhibit,” Patrick announced, grabbing your hand and taking a step away from John.

“You two have fun,” he said before clapping Patrick’s shoulder and leaning in to begin a stage whisper. “Make sure you treat her right and cherish her. If you don’t, I might have to swoop in and do so myself.”

He winked at you and you bit back a gag.

“Don't you worry your wrinkly little head. Nobody lov- cherishes her more than I do,” he theatrically patted his back much like he’d initially done to him. “See you around.”

Did he almost say what you think he almost said? Surely you misheard him, or he was just playing up your relationship to scare away that creepy man. It really wasn’t anything to think twice about.

Once the two of you had walked away far enough to be out of earshot, you finally addressed what had just happened. “Thank you, bodyguard. You don’t even know how much I despise that man.”

“He seems like he’s the worst,” he agreed with you, looking back over his shoulder.

“That’s because he is,” you emphasized. “This is so random, but did you mean what you said earlier?”

Patrick suddenly paused, his face going pale like he’d just seen a ghost. You were a little confused by this reaction, as he’d said nothing to warrant that level of fear.

“Do you actually want to start a family? Obviously not now, while you’re still playing tennis, but maybe eventually? I know we don’t have the most traditional marriage, but, I don’t know. Neither of us are getting any younger, and it might be fun to co-parent with my best friend,” you were clearly rambling now, but luckily, Patrick came in to rescue you for the second time that night. He looked far less aghast now.

“I would love that,” he said to you with a genuine smile. You matched his with one of your own.

———

“Do you have any big plans for retirement?” a reporter asked for the final question of the press conference.

“Mostly just eating a lot of burgers. And maybe learning how to play pickleball,” Patrick responded, never one to give a serious answer to questions that weren’t explicitly about tennis.

It was a ridiculous note to end on, but it felt right. You’d found that to be the case with most things in your life that pertained to him–most notably your marriage, which ended up being far more than you ever expected it to be.

After the press conference had come to a close, Patrick met you outside by the car, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips, then leaning down to peck your baby bump.

“How does it feel to be retired?” you asked, ruffling his hair while he was still bending down.

“It feels like you might divorce me,” he joked. Obviously your marriage deal was only meant to cover the time that he was still playing tennis, but after years of a complicated marriage that suddenly became significantly less complicated once you finally confronted the fact that the two of you very obviously loved each other, it seemed unlikely that your union would end any time soon.

You glanced down at your baby bump, then back up to him skeptically. “I hope you’re not being serious.”

“Come on, I never know with you. You’re the one who friendzoned me the entire first year of our marriage!” he exclaimed.

“That was a lifetime ago,” you countered before taking his hands in yours. “If you’re really worried, I have zero intentions of ending our marriage.”

“That’s all I wanted to hear,” he grinned, stepping away from you. “Let’s get going. I don’t want us to miss our reservation.”

You nodded and obliged, passing him the keys before heading to the passenger side of the car.

Once you sat down, you were overcome with the urge to say something. You had spent so much time bottling up and pressing down your own feelings, that it was now hard to resist letting things out when they came to you.

“I’m so proud of you,” you blurted. “And I love you. So much.”

Patrick smiled at you genuinely, before his look turned into a slightly more devious one. “I love you so much, too. One might even say I love you more.”

“Don’t even start with that,” you laughed, not in the mood to have the kind of back and forth with him that you had at least once a week. Considering that you were carrying his child, you were pretty sure that you were the winner of the love competition.

“Fine. We love each other equally,” he conceded.

“That’s more like it.”

You tried to think back to one specific moment where your marriage had crossed over from being one of convenience, into a union with genuine feelings attached, and realized that you weren’t exactly sure. It could’ve been the first night you spent together, when you’d finally allowed yourself to consider what your relationship might look like beyond a simple friendship, or maybe it was even earlier than that, when you gazed into Patrick’s eyes as you read off your vows. The look of pure adoration he gave you was one that you had grown familiar with throughout the course of your marriage, but you hadn’t realized at the time just how genuine he had been. Or maybe even the moment Patrick asked you in the living room of your apartment, when you’d been the first person he thought of to carry out his ridiculous scheme, and you’d said yes despite every logical part of your brain that screamed at you to say no.

Whenever it began didn’t particularly matter. What mattered now was that the two of you fully intended to spend the rest of your lives together.

#patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig #patrick zweig x you #patrick zweig fic #patrick zweig imagine #art donaldson x reader #challengers #challengers fanfic #challengers fic #josh o'connor x reader

832 notes · View notes

skylersprompts · 8 months

Text

DC X DP Prompt *2*

Danny was tired. Do this, do that. His parents wanted him to study harder. Jazz wanted him in therapy. His friends wanted for him to keep heroing. His rogues wanted to fight him or in Vlads case also as his son. And the last few month the observants were breathing down his neck, because they wanted him to do his kingly duties.

It was just to much.

And as much as he loved most of them, he was about to snap. It isn't that he didn't wanted to do most of those things. It was just to much at once.

So he wrote a note and left it for Sam and Tucker to find.

His next stop was Clockwork. The ghost of time may drive him up the walls from time to time, but he also knew what would be best to do.

Since CW didn't deter him from his plans, he pushed forward into the next best natural portal he came across...

The Wayne's looked owlishly at the small white haired child on the dinner table. The boy dropped unceremoniously through an swirling lazurus green portal.

He appeared to be around 5 years old and looked just as confused as them.

Until his mood shifted and a scowl appeared on his tiny face.

"He knew this would happen and didn't tell me! This asshole!"

"Language, young sir", and of course Alfred was the first to compose himself.

#skylers prompts #dcxdp prompt #dcxdp #dpxdc #danny gets deaged #Clockwork is cackling in his tower #he didn't want responsibilitys #he also didn't wanted to be five again!#batfam #Alfred isn't amused by the swearing #adopted danny?#whom I kidding #of course Bruce is going to adopt him #Danny is trapped in a tiny body with his mind being still 15 #shenanigans?#shenanigans!

2K notes · View notes

confessedlyfannish · 7 months

Text

DP x DC Writing Prompt #9

"Are you sure about this?" J'onn asks, reading the discontent amongst the Kents. Clark and Lois each have a hand on their teenage son's shoulders, who several weeks prior was aged ten years old.

"We're sure," Clark says. He is not, nor is his wife. But his son is, who lays his hand on his mother's and squeezes. It is that surety that J'onn honors as he delves into the young (but not as young as he should be) man's mind.

The memories are hard to find but not gone, hidden behind what Jon can only see manifested as a glowing green wall. When he raises a tentative hand, the shield sparks green, but does no harm. Pushing through is like wading through the consistency of jello, which he finds an overall unpleasant experience. But he is unharmed as he passes through.

Before J'onn can sort through the memories he is all but sucked into the one at the forefront, where a Jon most similar in visage to the one recently returned perches on the edge of a building. Beside him lies a burger, partially unwrapped though uneaten, and a small soda.

As the memory builds out a sun sets on a small suburban town, and a muscled thigh knocks into Jon's, an older man with a shock of white hair and eyes the same light and color as the shield formed around these memories appearing. He's tall even sitting, likely about as tall as Superman, and looks to be in his thirties. A full body suit comprised of black and silver accents stretches across broad shoulders, a stylized D on his chest. He knocks his thigh into Jon's again.

"You said I couldn't go back," Jon says quietly.

"I lied," the man says lightly.

"You're lying now," Jon says, glaring at him. "I can hear your heart."

"Nice try, kiddo, I don't have a heart in this form," the man says, reaching a hand out, presumably to ruffle his hair. Jon dodges.

"I know you're lying. You would've told me. You would've helped me get home."

"Jon--"

"You're protecting Clockwork, aren't you?" Jon demands, eyes beginning to burn red. "That old coot decided it wasn't enough to play with you, he had to play with me too."

The man slaps a hand over Jon's eyes. "Breathe, like we practiced," he instructs firmly. Steam rises from where his palm meets Jon's eyes, but if it hurts he shows no indication. "In, 2, 3. Out, 2, 3."

Jon whimpers but heaves a breath, and the burst of red light dies down from between the man's fingers. His hand moves down to Jon's shoulder.

"I can't pretend to understand Clockwork's decisions," the man says, as tears begin to pool in Jon's eyes. "Frankly, I don't want to. I suspect they are hard decisions to make, sometimes."

"I don't get why you defend him," Jon says. "Dumbledore acting bastard."

"Language," the man says, lightly bopping him on the head. J'onn notes the boy actually winces, as if the blow hurts.

"I am upset with him, I hope you know that," the man continues. "But at the end of the day I'm also grateful. Because I got to meet you." He hooks an arm around Jon's shoulders, pulling him in. "And now you'll get to see your family again. And Sally, Arnold, and Damian!"

Jon sniffles, rubbing roughly at his face. He leans into the man's bicep. A trusted adult figure, then. One he's described his life to. A life, J'onn is sad to note, he appears to have lived for the past six years, as opposed to a sudden shift in appearance. Jon's next question all but confirm it: "Can I really go back? It's been so long. They'll be all grown up."

"Hey, of course you can," the man says, rubbing his shoulder. "I'm sure they've missed you so much. They'll be so happy to see you again."

Jon starts to smile. "I'm going home."

"You're going home!" The man laughs, shaking him.

"I can finally eat some decent barbecue again!"

"Hey!" the man protests, "The smoker blew up one time!"

Jon continues, beginning to get excited. "And Ma will make her jalapeño cornbread! I never could get it right, I can't wait for you to try it!"

J'onn notes the older man's smile fading, eyes growing sad.

"And Damian will definitely want to spar and oh, oh! With you on our side we can totally prank Batman! I bet Alfred will even help! And Mom gives the best hugs, Pops comes really close but Mom will be really excited to meet you, everyone will."

"Jon," The man says.

"I knew you'd be worried about it, but they'll want to meet you," Jon says, clocking his expression. "They'll be grateful. You, you helped me. You kept me safe and taught me how to be Superman. They'll love you, I promise."

"Jon, I can't go with you," the man says gently.

"I'm not saying you stay, but you can visit! I'm sure the Justice League can figure out a way to maintain a portal, they're super used to all that multiverse stuff. Once they have the coordinates, you can stop by whenever!"

"I can't go through the portal, Jon," the man says. "To other worlds, I'm a god. And gods can't interfere. The only reason I can continue to live here is because this is the world of my origin."

Jon gapes at him. "But--but,"

"You're going to see your Mom and Dad again," the man says. "And your brother, and grandparents."

"I can come here, then," Jon says desperately, pushing his way out of the man's arms. The man is already shaking his head. "I can!"

"You can't."

"Why, because Clockwork says so? He's a liar!"

"Because multiverse travel is never a good idea. If you got trapped here again--"

"I wouldn't,"

"You belong with your family,"

"You're my family!" Jon cries. The man freezes. "You, and Sam, and Jazz, and Tucker and Val and Ellie and Pops and Mads, you're all my family! I can't just leave you, I won't!"

"Oh kiddo," The man says, eyes wet. "I love you too. We all do."

"So I'll stay," Jon says decisively. "For all we know my world is a wasteland. Gramps wasn't exactly right in the head when I left. It's better to stay here."

J'onn notes a green vine unwinding from a nearby trellis. It slides down the eave towards the pair.

"You don't mean that," the man is saying.

"I'm sixteen. I can make my own decisions. I'm staying."

The man cups Jon's face. "Your parents did not have a choice in losing you. I'm willing to bet they're devastated. Because I'd be devastated, losing a kid as great as you."

"Maybe they're not even there," Jon says, but the words are half-hearted, and it clearly hurts him to say them.

"I know I seem like a pushover, but if I thought Clockwork was sending you back to anything less than your loving family, I'd destroy him first. And he knows that. They're going to be there, I promise."

"I don't want to go," Jon says. Behind him, the vine rises from the eave of its own will, poised like a cobra enchanted by a snark charmer.

"I know," the man says, eyes drifting to the vine. "I'm so sorry, Jon."

"For what?" Jon asks, as the vine attaches itself to the nape of his neck. His eyes roll back as he collapses into the man's arms. The man hugs him tighter than is strictly necessary.

J'onn expects the memory to now end, alongside Jon's consciousness. To his curiosity, it does not.

"For what it's worth," a young woman spits bitterly, vines supporting her weight as she slips over the side of the roof. "I still think this is horrible." Her eyes are red and miserable.

"Seriously, team punching Dumbledore in the face," A young black man says, appearing in the air supported by a woman almost identical in appearance to the man holding Jon, down to the suit colors. They land on the rooftop.

"Are you sure about this," the dark haired woman with powers over plants asks. "Because to be honest, Danny, I'm five seconds away from punching you in the face."

"Jazz won't speak to you for months," the girl, likely his sister, points out.

"Make it a year," the man says, crossing his arms.

The man, Danny, ignores them all. He cards a hand through Jon's hair. "He'll retain the experience, but not the memories?"

"Yes, he'll be a perfect little superhero, just as you taught him," the woman says, vines twisting agitatedly around her, wrapping around her thigh, wrists and neck almost punishingly.

"Sam," the man says. "He needs to go home. All of you know that."

"He doesn't have to forget us to do so!" the sister bursts, eyes flashing green.

"Remembering would be a torment," Danny says. "He'll know he was loved. That's enough."

"Danny," the plant woman says, sitting beside them both. She puts a gentle hand on his, both on Jon's back. "This is just a different torment."

"And if someone finds out?" Danny asks. He has been patient amidst their scorn, but now a tiny edge ekes into his voice. "A god's child, unprotected? Threatened? He would never stop looking for a way back, and being vocal about it could get him killed."

The others are silent.

"He'll be home. He'll be happy," Danny says. More powerful than a prayer. A directive. He raises his head past the child slumbering in his lap, past them all, face hardening, and says to J'onn: "And you will say nothing."

J'onn takes a step back, fear so thick he could choke on it flooding his very being. Thismanwillkillhim, thismanwillkillhim.

This man will reach through dimensions and kill him.

"Now, get the fuck out of my kid's head," Danny snarls. J'onn is pushed back with enough force he enters his own mind in a vicious whirl that leaves him physically on the floor, gasping.

"I'm sorry," he says as Superman rushes to lift him, and he's not sure who he's apologizing to. Green eyes will pierce his dreams. Vines will crush his throat in his nightmares, screaming silence, silence.

You will say nothing.

"I'm sorry," J'onn says, politely pushing Clark's hands away as he rises. He's already beginning to calm, because he understands. Those are consequences he will not face. He will do as directed. He looks at Jon Kent, bewildered but unharmed, clutching his mother's hand.

J'onn reaches down and dusts at his pants. "I'm sorry," he says evenly, ready to spin his tale. Perhaps the Kents will continue to seek their answers. Perhaps not. He will stay out of it either way. He has been warned.

You were loved by gods. And to keep you safe, they would quiet us all.

#dp x dc #dp x dc au #dp x dc prompt #dp x dc crossover #danny phantom #dpxdc #superman #superboy #jonathan kent #jonathan samuel kent #my writing

1K notes · View notes

selfishdoll · 7 months

Text

❛ I WANNA SEE...❜

Quit talkin' 'bout it, be about it | Lemme see, lemme see, lemme see. ⁺ 𓂋 𓈒 ♡ LEMME SEE

ཐིཋྀ ⊹ 𓈒 SUMMARY.

butt-dialing your roommate while pleasing yourself (and moaning his name) went in a completely different direction than you thought it would.

ཐིཋྀ ⊹ 𓈒 CONTENT WARNING.

accidental voyuerism, reader is a little dumb (love her though) black reader, they are both 20-22, roommates to lovers, mutual masturbation, praise & teasing, pet names (baby, princess, pretty girl, etc.), oral sex(fem receiving), manhandling, dumbification, choso has been pining for a while he was just waiting on you, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, creampies, hand on throat (not choking it’s just there), porn mention, etc. if i left something out please let me know.

ཐིཋྀ ⊹ 𓈒 NOTE.

choso has been plaguing my brain just like bi-han is. also this idea came up randomly. lowkey rushed at the end. i hope you enjoy and as always; this fic is unedited, please excuse typos & grammar mistakes.

You couldn’t deny the attraction you felt to Kamo Choso. It was all physical, at first; eyes trailing down his body the day you met him— enjoying just about everything your gaze set on. He was handsome, in a rugged kind of way, eyes lined with bags as if he hadn’t slept in years; however built as if he never left the gym. How he handled both was beyond you.

But of course, the attraction didn’t end there, it grew when you got to know him— and when you moved in with him. After being rushed out of your previous apartment by your shitty landlord, Choso was more than happy to give you the extra bedroom in his home; declaring you didn’t need to pay rent for about two months just to get your bearings. From then on, anytime you saw Choso, or if anyone mentioned him; you were flushed with heat, a disgusting amount of butterflies settling in your stomach.

You were whipped and there was nothing you could do. Given you refused to jeopardize the friendship you two had.

Today was your off day after a hellish week. You planned to spend it in bed, cuddled under Halloween themed blankets. Your eyes peered up at the television hanging aganist your wall, enjoying some random video of your favorite youtuber. You blinked as a gentle knock came on your door, slowly sitting up as an enter escaped you shortly after. The door opened, revealing Choso dressed in a baggy black tshirt and some sweats. His keys were in his hands, leaning against the doorframe.

“I’m going out for a bit, do you need anything?”

You smiled, tilting your head in thought. “Mm.. no.” You spoke, watching him raise his eyebrows for a moment, giving an are you sure look. You chuckled, nodding once more to which he hummed a bit.

“Don’t call me later because you forgot somethin’.”

“That’s only happened once, Choso!” You huffed, watching as he turned, exiting your bedroom. And soon the house. You sighed a bit, sliding down your headboard to rest on your back, glancing up at the ceiling. Despite him not being in the room your still felt insanely warm, hands rising to your cheeks to groan into them. Why was he so fine and so sweet all at the same time? It frustrated you to no end.

You rolled onto your side, legs crossing as you pushed your face into your pillows. Hands gliding down from your face, you felt the warmth grow; trickling down between your thighs. Sighing softly to yourself, you switched to lay on your back again, blindly reaching for your phone. Like clockwork you clicked onto the dreaded X app, using two hands to type in a genre before one slinked back under your blankets.

You scrolled for a moment, fingers breaching your panties and simply rolling lazy circles onto your clit. The tiny sparks of pleasure slowly relied you up, searching endlessly for a video, getting more annoyed by the second. Moments passed before you sighed heavily, dropping your phone onto the bed whilst kicking off your blankets.

Your imagination would have to do. And what did it always drift off too? Kamo Choso.

Panties now bunched to your ankles, two fingers glided across your slick slit, collecting your essence until you were nice and moist; all while your other hand continued to roll circles onto your hardened buds. Dipping your fingers down, a soft sigh escaped you as you pushed them in, not reaching as deep as you liked but close enough. Once comfortable you began to thrust them in and out of you, curling them every so often— causing sweet moans to escape you.

You thought of him. Thought of yourself under him, using his fingers that were surely much bigger then your own. Stretching you out in preparation, all while he whispered words into your ear. You bit the inside of your cheek, the intensity of your fingers quickening, hips rising up off the bed as vocal noises escaped you. You moved on the bed, rolling a bit before situating yourself onto your back again. Gasps escaped you, desperate moans as you chased after your release. Choso consumed your mind, fantasies pushed forth as if seeing them right before you. His body, his voice, his hair tickling your heated skin— it was all too much. You needed him so much.

“Fuck, Choso..” Was the high-pitched whimper that escaped you, hand tiring yet refusing to stop, you were so close. You rubbed your clit raw, fingers pushing against your gummy walls before you finally came, a final moan escaping you. You breathed heavily, falling back against the bed as you slowly withdrew your fingers, groaning a bit. It took a moment to calm yourself down, rolling onto your side and attempting to ignore your mess for now. Just a moment, you would clean yourself up.

That was until your eyes zoned in on your phone, realizing it was on. With a blink you sat up, feeling your heart fall straight to your ass. There, clear as day, was Choso’s contact name. You were currently on a call with him. One you hadn’t nor realized you accepted.

The silence was eerie, a shaky hand rising to hover above the screen. Like an idiot you spoke, “Choso?..”

And much to your horror you got a breathy, “Yeah?” back. You screamed internally, hurriedly cutting the call and falling into your bed. Obscenities escaped you into your pillow, eyes pinched close as embarrassment ran through your body. Of course you would butt-dial him, of course you would moan his name, and of course you would say his name again instead of simply ending the call! So stupid, so stupid! You could die right then and there.

There was only one solution to this problem; avoid him for a month until he pushes it to the back of his mind. It sounded ridiculous, but that was the only way. So, you stood, grabbing your towel from its hanging place and paddling over to the bathroom. You would shower, grab some water and snacks — so you wouldn’t have to leave you room —, and lock your door. Choso isn’t the type to barge in, but you couldn’t chance it.

You made quick work of bathing yourself, hissing at the burning sensitivity between your legs. Once finished you pat yourself dry, sliding some lotion on yourself soon after and pulling on some shorts and a shirt after your panties. Opening your bedroom door you glanced around suspiciously, waltzing over to the kitchen and snatching up two water bottles and a couple of your snacks. Holding them between your arms while walking back to your bedroom, you felt your stomach drop the moment the front door opened. You rushed the final steps to your room, slamming the door shut and locking it behind you. You breathed as you heard heavy footsteps around the house, stepping over to your bed and placing your snacks and drinks on the nightstand. You jumped as a knock came on your door, quickly going quiet.

All was still until he spoke, “Got you some food. It’ll be behind the door.”

You nearly felt bad for ignoring him, wondering if he bought it before or after you completely defiled his ears. Biting your lip, you waited until you heard his bedroom door close, waltzing over and carefully unlocking your own. Pulling it open, you glanced down at the styrofoam container, smiling a little to yourself. Leaning to pick it up, you released a small thank you, before quickly shutting and locking the door.

A heavy sigh escaped you as you walked over to your bed, sitting down and placing the food down. Dwelling over your mistake would only ruin your appetite, you decided to distract yourself with horror movies.

After eating the food and enjoying the third scream movie, you took a nap, curled up under your blankets comfortably. An hour or so passed before you woke up, blinking slowly and glancing around the room; the only light being the television. A soft yawn escaped you, slowly sitting up and glancing at your mess. You grimaced, picking up your empty water bottle, wrapper, and food container— switching around to stand and walk over to your door. Unlocking it, you opened and exited your bedroom, sliding over to the kitchen.

You hummed softly to yourself, approaching the trash can and placing your trash inside. Walking over to the sink, you squirted a little soap in your hands, washing them for a good few minutes before cutting the water off, shaking your hands to dry. Turning to head back to your bedroom, a yell escaped you when you noticed the man standing in the doorway.

Choso smiled a little, “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” He crossed his arms, your eyes instinctively falling to them before rising back to his face. You shook your head quickly, nervously adjusting your shirt onto your body. “It’s okay.. No problem.” You cringed internally at your own voice, eyes closed and suppressing a groan.

An awkward silence carried in the room for a moment before you finally decided to rip the bandaid. You glanced up, meeting his gaze that was already fixated onto you. “Choso, I’m.. really sorry I called you and you.. heard me.” You murmured, fingers continuing to fiddle with themselves.

“I called you.” He corrected, you giving a nervous smile and a nod.

“Right, but still. I understand if you’re uncomfortable and our dynamic changes for a little bit. I.. hope you can forgive me.”

Choso tilted his head for a moment, finger tapping against his arm as a small smile painted his features. He entered the kitchen fully, coming to stand before you. “It’s okay.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He hummed softly, eyes tracing your face for a moment before his smile deepened. “I’ll forgive you.. if you show me what you were doing to yourself.”

You blinked as his words settled into your mind, eyes slowly going wide. He had to be joking, right? Gaze boring into his own and looking for any hint of amusement or mischief. Unfortunately, you could tell that Kamo Choso was dead serious. Waiting ever so patiently for your reply. Yet, you still asked.

“You’re being.. serious?” You licked your suddenly dry lips, a cold feeling running down your body the moment he nodded. Eyes never moving away from you. Heart thrumming against your chest, a soft okay escaping you after a moment. Gripping your shirt you watched as Choso stepped to the side to allow you to leave, following close behind as the two of you exited the kitchen.

You tried to ignore the heat rising, ears burning as you felt his heavy gaze upon your form. Entering your bedroom, you flipped the light on, approaching your bed. You hesitated, giving the man enough time to approach you, gently cradling your back. “You can back out, (Y/N). I refuse to push you into something you don’t want to do.” Was what Choso whispered against your ear, pulling back to glance down at you. Searching for anymore restraint.

You thought it over, biting the inside of your cheek for a moment before you stepped away from him. The man watched as your fingers curled under the waistband of your shorts and panties, slowly pulling them down your body. You came to lay on your bed, watching as he followed to sit at the edge of it.

“Watch carefully, Choso.” A sudden burst of confidence entered you, legs sliding open to reveal yourself to him. Your hand glided down your form, using two fingers to slowly spread yourself, middle finger coming to roll slow circles onto your clit. As the pleasure grew your legs opened more, head leaning back as a soft sigh escaped you. Your hand rose, pushing two fingers into your mouth and coating them in your saliva, purposely moaning around them just to watch him twitch.

Choso’s gaze was intense, leaving nothing untouched by his eyes. He hissed softly as he watched you push your saliva covered fingers inside, your walls clenching around the digits eagerly. You moaned softly, beginning to thrust them as two fingers rolled upon your clit. A soft swear escaped Choso, leaning to rest on his elbow while his free hand pushed his sweats and boxers to rest on his thighs, revealing his half hard length. Slowly he stroked himself, watching your fingers falter when you noticed him. Choso shook his head, reaching over and gently knocking his knuckles against your ankle.

“Don’t stop, sweetheart. Keep going..” He breathed, thumb collecting precum from his slit and gliding it down his cock. He groaned the moment your fingers moved again, watching the way you fucked yourself, your sweet moans bouncing off the walls. Choso couldn’t believe it when you picked up the call and he heard you, and he definitely couldn’t believe his ears when you moaned his name. He felt so perverted, loving every second of that call.

You hips rolled, legs shaking as your fingers curled and scissored inside you. Breathing heavily, his name escaped your mouth legs threatening to close from the pleasure. To which he refused, reaching over and locking his fingers around your ankle, pulling your legs open.

“Choso..”

“Wanna see.. that’s it, you’re so close princess.” Choso huffed, pace quickening— grinning at the way you clenched from his words. Your peaks were approaching, combined sounds of pleasure covering the room. Your eyes were pinched closed, whimpers escaping your throat before you came, coating your fingers in your release. Blurry eyes opened in time to see Choso tense, making a mess on his pants, hand, and bottom of his shirt.

The two of you panted, your legs relaxing, head resting against your pillow as you allowed yourself to breathe. That was until, you were dragged farther down the bed, feeling his strong hands grasp your thighs, parting them. You glanced down in time to spot him plant a kiss against your slit, gasping from the sensitivity. “Choso—!” You cried out, his thick tongue parting your folds, gliding across your sensitive bud.

The man wasted no time on feasting away on you, collecting your mess as if it was the finest wine; moaning at your taste. His grip tightened when you attempted to run from the pleasure, driving his tongue into you and curling. It was too much, too soon; your back arching as your hands found his hair, gripping and ruining the messy buns. Cries escaped you, thighs wrapping around his head so tightly, surely cutting off his air supply. But the man didn’t care at all, continuing to thrust his tongue in and out of you, dragging it out every once in a while to glide across your clit before diving back in.

Knuckles balled, you shook as you came all over his face, pushing your pussy right into him which he welcomed happily. He wasn’t any more gentle cleaning you up, lapping your juices with a soft hum. You pushed at him, Choso finally releasing you from the torture and sitting up. Choso rose, lifting his shirt to wipe his face clean of your mess before pulling it off fully and tossing it to the side.

You panted as he crawled over you, leaning on a forearm as his free hand gently grabbed your chin. “Focus here, princess..” He murmured softly, grinning at the way your heavy lidded eyes landed on his face. Choso leaned, stealing your breath in a heated kiss, wasting no time in driving his tongue into your mouth. Your taste burned your tongue, hands grabbing his strong arms for stability. Soft smacks entered the room, the kiss deepening; a softer whine escaping you the moment his hand traveled to your throat, simply holding it. The man rose away for a moment, a swear escaping him as he took in your disheveled form.

“How long have you wanted this, (Y/N)? Weeks? Months?” Choso questioned, tutting the moment you attempted to turn away. His hand traveled, squishing your cheeks between his fingers as he leaned down. “You’ve gone mute, sweet girl?”

You murmured softly, fingers trailing to his wrist, warming at the way his thumb pressed against your slick lips. “Months.. since I’ve met you.”

“Oh..” Choso could nearly come on the spot from that, listening to your sweet, shaky voice admit something so dirty. Watching your pretty eyes refuse to meet his gaze. You were so embarrassed.. as if you hadn’t just played with yourself infront of him. He would chuckle if he wasn’t scared of offending you. Instead, he leaned even closer, lips hovering above your own as your noses brushed against each other. “Yeah? Bet this isn’t the first time you’ve touched yourself to the thought of me..“ He spoke, lips quirking as a soft chuckle escaped him. “You wanted me to catch you one day, didn’t you pretty girl?”

You quickly shook your head, watching as the man sat up, hands falling to your thighs. You breathed as he rose them, resting the back of your knees onto his shoulders while his cock brushed across your entrance. Choso tilted his head at you, thumbs tracing your skin. “I didn’t take you for a liar, (Y/N).”

Before you could defend yourself he was pushing inside, a sharp moan escaping you as he began to stretch you. His hands were firm on you, keeping you grounded and steady. His eyes darted between the two of you, watching the way you spread around his length so nicely; walls clenching with each push inside. Choso felt the way your legs shook, a soft whine escaping you before he reached between your legs, slowly rolling circles on your hardened bud. “Relax for me, pretty girl.. That’s it— I’m almost there.” He nearly groaned at the way you clenched from his words, pushing his hips and becoming fully seated inside you.

Choso allowed you a moment to breathe, watching for any discontent while his finger continued to gingerly rub your clit. When he noticed the pained expression melt away, he was pulling his hips back, driving them forward quickly. The moment you moaned, was when he lost restraint; thrusts increasing and soon fucking you into the mattress.

Your legs shook with each rock into your body, his cock bullying your insides, reaching far deeper then your fingers or any toy you owned. Your fingers balled up the blankets underneath you, back arched as cries escaped your throat. It was becoming too much, tears ready to spill as you twisted and turned from the immense pleasure. You whined as he suddenly leaned down, pressing your legs up against your chest while his hand gently grabbed your throat once more.

“Don’t run (Y/N).. Stay right here, take it.” Choso spoke, breath heavy as his weight was placed behind each thrust. He watched the way your eyes rolled to the back of your bed, grinning to himself in enjoyment and pure pride. You were clenching him so harshly, refusing to let him go, sucking him back in greedily. He was in a daze, completely focused on nothing more than your reactions; your beautiful sounds, your twitches, how your hands rose to clench at his arms— hanging on by a thread, using him for stability.

“Choso, Choso, Choso!” His name fell from your lips in a desperate mantra, eyebrows pinched closed as you felt yourself getting closer and close. The band was tight, ready to burst as his cock rammed into you— slamming against your g-spot with no mercy. You finally broke, soaking the sheets under you, ruining them completely.

Choso released a groan at the sight and feeling leaning to plant a heavy kiss onto your lips, all while fucking you through your orgasm. You whined at the sensitivity, hand falling to his waist to which he easily caught, intertwining your fingers and pushing into the mattress. “One more, baby. Just one more.”

“Mm.. I—I can’t—!” You cried out, the man pulling back to glance down at you. You were truly a sight, bohemian braids spread out around your hair, edges messy while your lips were bruised and coated in your shared saliva. Eyes lidded, shirt damp with your sweat with your breasts pushing against the thin fabric. The man sucked in a breath, hand falling to your waist and lifting, fucking you at different angle just to hear you scream.

“You can.. been takin’ me so well princess, making me a mess.” Choso breathed, eyelids heavy as he felt his end growing closer and closer. Lip caught between his teeth his thrusts became hurried, ramming you into the mattress all while continuing to hold your hand.

Incoherent babbles escaped you, knees brushing your chest, stuck under his weight. The moment he reached between you two to rub tight circles onto your clit you were done, lifting up off the bed and creaming all over him; throat raw, voice abused.

Choso’s eyes rolled back to his skull, rising as his thrusts turned sloppy, vocal moans and praises escaping him. Soon enough he was painting your walls white, stuffing you full as the warmth caused you to whine. The smell of sex rested in the air, followed by your commingled breaths.

The man moved your legs off his shoulders, allowing them to rest at his sides before coming to lay on you. You groaned softly, hands traveling to his back. He wasn’t a light man at all, nearly placing all his weight on you. “Choso.. you’re heavy.” You whined softly, still trying to regain your breath. He simply breathed you in, free hand moving to travel up the back of your skull, fingers gliding across the parts of your braids.

“Choso!”

“One more minute. Then we can shower.”

You shook your head with a simple sigh, smiling to yourself as your fingers trailed his back. However, the man rose from his previous position, releasing your hand to place them on your waist. “On second thought.. one more round.”

Your eyes widened in horror, yet excitement brewed in your stomach. It seemed you wouldn’t be leaving your bed anytime soon.

#mani writes ━━ ★#black!reader #jjk x black reader #jjk smut #jjk x fem!reader #choso kamo x female reader #choso kamo x black reader #choso kamo x y/n #choso x female reader #choso kamo x you #choso kamo x reader #choso x you #kamo choso #choso kamo

1K notes · View notes

ew-selfish-art · 11 months

Text

Dp x Dc wherein learning magic is similar to learning how to play music.

So basically, the creation of a summoning spell is like a full composition/song made of smaller components or ‘notes’ for things like gravity shifting, and geolocation, and transportation etc. which is why Magic can be taught and spells can be man-made.

Danny, however, is the equivalent of having Perfect Pitch. He can compose entire songs of spells without really thinking about it due to his royal titles (ambassador/king/high prince) but doesn’t really know how to be specific which lands him in some trouble with Clockwork. His portals are coming along a lot better with the help of Wulf but its critical that Danny learns how to control the range of his magic *something something, for the timestream something* *blah blah according to the will of the ancients blah blah*.

So put on the course to learn Magic, Danny decides to hunt down the House of Mystery and study up by himself. He’s doing community college online, what could a little bit of Magic self study really do to his schedule? This place has literally every magic resource he could need!

Turns out he has a roommate in the House of Mystery- John Constantine does not take well to the fact that half of the spells Danny is creating are causing him issues with the JL. Random shit appearing, random shit disappearing, portals everywhere and don’t get him started on the fucking ICE present on every bloody thing the magic reaches. Not to mention there is no reason a normal human kid should be able to have this much power behind his spells.

John attempts to teach Danny the basics like a little kid gets stickers placed on the keys of a piano. The problem is Danny has the ability to compose entire scores of Magic all on his own, and absolutely abhors the training wheels John is putting on him.

Danny: You’re patronizing me!

John: You deserve to be patronized.

Just like, Danny learning Magic in various ways that you might teach kids to play musical instruments from the various Magic users in the JLD. Causing chaos along the way, found family, the whole nine. Stickers on the instruments for notes, taking away guitar strings that are ‘more advanced’ and replaying Twinkle, Twinkle little star over and over again.

Danny can play the Magic equivalent of Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake but cannot play Chopsticks.

2K notes · View notes

wileys-russo · 16 days

Text

before the void (alexia’s version) II a.putellas

before the void one II filling the void one two three four five before the void 2.0 (alexia’s version) II a.putellas

if there was one thing that never changed over the years it was that you were an early bird and a morning person. long before alexia's intense training routine which often had her up at 5am, she and alba despised this little habit of yours.

the worst was always on holidays. christmas, easter, sant jordi, mothers day, first day back of school, and of course your personal favourite fresa day.

the night before would be just as painful, with your body full of beans and eager for the upcoming celebrations you'd refuse to follow your normal routine.

you'd often be curled up with your sisters on the couch with the two of them suffering through one of the brightly coloured incredibly annoying childrens shows you adored.

with your eyes starting to struggle to stay open they'd notice and silently high five above your head, exchanging victorious grins always naive about the sudden energy boosts of four year olds.

eli would finish packing away the leftovers from dinner and note your near limp form curled up on alexia's lap like a cat with an amused smile. "vale fresita, time for bed mi hija." she would make her way over and advise with a chuckle as you shook your head.

"no, m'not tired." you'd grumble, definitely tiredly, the rhythmic scratching of alba's nails against your back where her hand was tucked up your top not helping you fight the way your eyelids suddenly felt weighted and alexia's stomach rose and fall where your head was resting.

"oh no? you look tired nena, and you cannot sleep in alexia's lap all night." eli would playfully roll her eyes, nodding to her eldest daughters who let you go as eli would hoist you up onto her hip.

then like clockwork the moment you were pulled from that little bubble of warmth and comfort, it was as if an electric shock ran through and you were jolted awake.

with eyes wide and battery rapidly recharging you'd wiggle and wiggle until eli had no choice but to put you down and suddenly you were off, sprinting away as your sisters groaned and your mami sighed, tired herself.

"we'll get her mami, go take your shower." alexia ordered somewhat firmly, the two already taking off in search of you as eli held her hands up in surrender and headed for her own room knowing better than to argue.

"vamos fresa, bed time." alexia ordered eventually finding you in her room, stood on her bed and shaking your head firmly. "no, fresa day." you stated bluntly, making alba snicker where she stood blocking the door as alexia shot her a glare over her shoulder.

"no, thats tomorrow. which means you need to sleep so you're not grumpy tomorrow pequeña." your sister warned as you shook your head. "no." you repeated, the word always one of your favourites.

"yes. alba and i will read you a story?" alexia offered as you once again shook your head, not even pausing to consider the offer as you started to jump up and down on her bed.

"fresa!" alexia groaned as her neatly made bed was suddenly a crumpled pile of sheets as you giggled and tried to jump higher. "fine, no story then. bed time!" alexia made a move toward you as you jumped, avoiding her arms which reached for you.

"no!" you shook your head, launching yourself off her bed and hitting the floor with a thump, alexia wincing but letting out a small sigh as you seemed unharmed despite the distance of the jump.

"too slow!" you chirped, zooming through alba's legs as she tried to snatch you up. "you were supposed to block the door idiota!" alexia shoved the younger girl who scoffed, the two bickering back and for a moment as you took the opportunity to race away.

gathering themselves your sisters put aside their argument and focused on the task at hand, this game of cat and mouse lasting far too long now as every time they almost caught you you somehow escaped.

but eventually the time of night caught up to you and you started to run a little slower, your laughter was interrupted by yawns and before you realized you'd run into alexia's legs and you were scooped up and tossed over her shoulder.

"no!" you groaned though again interrupted by a yawn making her chuckled. "yes!" she mocked, alba tossing her your shirt you'd stripped off in your determination to stay awake which was pulled over your head.

"come on diablillo, or we will cancel fresa day." alexia chuckled as you went rigid. "no!" you hit her back as she grinned and lowered you down into your own bed, alba helping you get under the covers.

"story?" you asked hopefully, an innocent but tired smile painting your face as your sisters exchanged a look. "move over." alba ordered with a sigh and you lit up, wiggling away so she could slide on one side as alexia grabbed a book and wedged herself onto the other.

and an hour later when the house was suspiciously quiet thats how eli found all three of you, a chuckle leaving the corner of her mouth at the sight.

you were dead asleep, sprawled out with your bottom half on the bed and your top half on top of alba. alba was leaning into alexia whose arm was draped across her shoulder as her legs hung off the end of your bed.

both your sisters were also asleep with the book they'd started to read abandoned on the floor where it fell from alexia's hand, not a single one of you looking comfortable but still all entangled together on the bed.

of a morning you didn't even need an alarm, your body served its natural purpose and with it taking a small army to tire you out the night before your sisters eventually woke up around 3am with stiff necks and headed to their own beds.

but it wasn't even two and a half hours later when alexia was woken up yet again.

"ale ale ale ale ale!" you chanted as you burst through her door, climbing up onto her bed and bouncing around on the mattress as the footballers eyes cracked open.

"no fresa." she groaned tiredly, grabbing a pillow and thumping you with it sending you tumbling down onto her mattress as she exhaled deeply. "its fresa day. get up!" you huffed, kicking at her form under the covers.

fresa day of course, was your birthday. and something that the entire family took very seriously with all of your tia's and tio's and cousins coming over tonight for dinner to celebrate. but the five am wake up was not on the schedule.

"go back to sleep! fresa day will still be here in a few hours pequeña." alexia moaned, grabbing the spare pillow and covering her face it, grunting as you flopped down on top of her.

"no, starts now. ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale, ale-" you chanted over and over and no matter how tightly alexia pressed the pillow against her face she couldn't block it out. "vale! cállate." alexia's hand covered your face as you nodded.

"happy fresa day!" you cheered as she let go, tackling her back into bed as alexia couldn't help but let out a laugh. "you can't wish yourself a happy birthday hermanita."

aside from your sisters if there was one other person growing up who gave you whatever you wanted and more, it was jenni.

at first you'd been a little intimdated by the incredibly tall and tattooed girl the day alexia brought her home to meet everyone, uncharacteristically hiding behind alba's leg when she introduced herself.

though recognizing you were very small and she was not jenni squatted down and offered you a handshake, alba gently nudging you forward as jenni gave you a grin when you shyly shook her hand and immediately hid back behind your sister.

alexia watched on in surprise, never having seen you this shy around any of her teammates and friends before. but as time passed, she wished you were still afraid of jenni.

instead, it was quite the opposite.

the girl rapidly became seemingly your new favourite person, and though it took a few visits for you to warm up to her, once you did you were glued to jenni's side and an absolute thorn in alexia's who never seemed to get a moment alone with her girlfriend.

but near begging her mami to give her some peace and quiet after you'd been relentlessly getting under her skin all afternoon eli took pity and took you with her to the shops.

but of course, that peace and quiet didn't last either.

alexia was in bed and in the middle of finally being able to kiss her girlfriend without interruption, straddling her hips as alba was firmly locked away in her own room knowing better than to surface while it was just the three of them at home.

so caught up in the feeling of jenni's strong hands toying with the waistband of her shorts she hadn't heard the front door open or the footsteps go racing toward her door, eli's yells for you to leave your sisters falling on deaf ears.

but alexia did hear her door open, pulling away and letting out a groan as you raced inside uninvited, climbing up onto her bed and all but shouldering your sister out of the way.

"fresa! what did we say about knocking?" your sister sighed dragging her hands down her face as you ignored her, hugging jenni tightly who only grinned and ruffled your hair.

"i'm back!" you chirped with a grin of your own, making yourself comfortable in alexia's bed in between them as your sister mumbled something under her breath, jenni shooting her a look and hitting her softly.

"i can see that pequeña. did you have fun shopping with your mami?" jenni asked, grabbing you and swinging you around to stand on her knees making you giggle and grab her hands so you could balance, nodding enthusiastically.

"sí! mami's makin paella for dinner. are you staying?" you asked hopefully, ignoring your sisters displeased huffs where she sat in bed beside the pair of you. "only if your mami says its okay, can you go ask her for me chiqui?" jenni asked as you nodded, leaping down off alexia's bed.

"fres por favor be careful!" alexia sat bolt upright at the thump of you hitting the floor where you stumbled over and fell, getting up and brushing yourself off, sending the two of them a thumbs up and sprinting off making jenni laugh and alexia sigh in relief.

"vamos grumpy, smile." jenni teased poking at her girlfriends cheeks whose scowl only deepened. "you are not jealous of your hermanita are you princesa?" the girl continued with a wolfish grin as alexia rolled her eyes.

"no!" she huffed, crossing her arms with a glare as jenni shook her head knowingly, leaning in to kiss her though before their lips touched you were back and climbing right back into bed as alexia groaned again.

"you can stay, mami said you have to anyway." you promised patting jenni's shoulder who smiled and pinched your cheek. "hey show your hermana what leila taught you yesterday chiqui." jenni remembered, alexia having had to take you to training after you finished at school when eli was stuck with a work emergency.

alexia looked on curiously as you turned to her, but her eyebrows shot up as you gave her the middle finger with a grin. "oye! you don't do that, its rude. vale?" you whined as your sister grabbed your finger and warned seriously.

"vale." you mumbled with a frown, though with a poke and an encouraging nod and smile from jenni within seconds of alexia letting go of you, you were doing it again and this time diving into jenni's hold for protection, peeking out with a grin that scarily matched the strikers.

"come on, its cute when she does it amor, no?" jenni laughed as you peeked out and gave alexia the finger but the girl was unable to stop a smile curling onto her lips at the sight. "diablillo." alexia chuckled, reaching out to push your head backwards with a smile.

"but don't do that in front of mami, ever." your sister warned sternly as you nodded, tucking your finger back away as you busied yourself getting comfortable in between them and rambling on and on to the pair about every single tiny little detail of your shopping trip.

you were cut off by a knock, alba stood half asleep in the doorframe. "nice bed hair hermana." alexia snickered as alba rolled her eyes and tried to pat it down with a huff.

"she is tired because she got home so late." you chirped, having woken up at the sound of your sister sneaking back in given her room was right next to yours, alba ushering you right back to bed as you wandered in to check on her.

"oh really?" alexia grinned as alba shot you a glare. "mami was already in bed, you were in bed, i was in-" you started to recall as alba grabbed a slide off alexia's floor and threw it at you, missing entirely as it smacked against the wall.

"and mami expected me to take you to football with me? there is not an athletic bone in your body." alexia teased as alba's glare was fixed on her. "you tell mami i got in late and i tell her you broke her vase fresa, vale?" your sister warned quietly as you frowned and alexia paled.

"i didn't break it! alexia was kick-" you started before a hand covered your mouth and alba's face lit up. "oh really?" she mocked alexia's words from before as jenni watched on in amusement and you struggled to pull your sisters hand away.

"ow! mierda." she hissed as you bit her, teeth sinking into the flesh of her palm as she shook her hand with a wince and you climbed onto jenni who wrapped her arms protectively around you.

"thats a bad word." you chirped as alexia paused to take a breath, knowing that snapping wouldn't help anything. "what do you want alba?" she redirected with a raised eyebrow.

"can i borrow your charger? i lost mine." she asked hopefully. "alexia has it she-" you perked up, only stopping when your sister sharply pinched your side causing you to whine.

but it was enough to invite alba to stride over to the desk, scoffing as indeed her charger was plugged in, snatching it back and shooting alexia a glare before marching back off, door closing with a slight slam.

"you are such a snitch!" alexia groaned as you huffed. "don't pinch me." you warned, moving to stand up and do your best to glare at her making jenni cover her laughter with her hand at the sight which was more adorable than intimidating.

"oh yeah? or what? tiny." alexia sat up with a smirk and was easily taller but it didn't deter you, only puffing your chest out more and narrowing your eyes. "i'll get jenni to beat you up." you pointed to the other girl who this time made no attempt to cover her laugh.

"oh si? what about you fresita? you can't do it?" you were sent tumbling backward as your sister pushed you with a single finger, getting right back up.

letting out a war cry you launched at her, alexia only snickering as you tried your very best to take her down, arms wrapping around her neck trying to pull her into a headlock much like she often did to you or alba.

"oh noo, you're too strong pequeña!" alexia cooed, easily grabbing your arms and pinning them to your sides with a grin. "jenni vamos, get her!" you ordered, your sisters girlfriend very happily taking your side, alexia squealing as long bony fingers dug into her side.

"finish her off chiqui." jenni grinned, alexia letting out a grunt as you jumped and rammed into her stomach. "dios mio you have bony elbows like alba!" alexia groaned, all three of you collapsing onto the bed.

"fresa! i need a taste tester hija." and with that you were off, merely a blur as you climbed down and srinted out of the room. "thats all it takes to get rid of her? food?" alexia sighed in defeat, jenni laughing and leaning down to finally kiss her.

"mami what does gay mean?" the chatter around the table stopped at your question, your sisters hiding their smiles behind their hands as you looked on with a genuine interest and eli paused for a moment.

"why nena?" the woman asked with a raised eyebrow. "well at lunch the other day mariona and me were playing hopscotch and javi joined in. then some other boys told him that was gay so he stopped and now he doesn't play with us anymore." you frowned, eli nodding in understanding.

"i see. well, gay just means happy fresita and-" eli started, stopping to glare at the three older girls who snickered, all filling their mouths with food before she continued.

"-and on monday you ask if there is a game javi wants to play, and you and mariona can play what he wants too." eli advised as you nodded, satisfied with that answer.

"your paella makes me gay mami." you smiled appreciatively, all three older girls choking on their food at your sentence before sharing a look and bursting into laughter as you looked on confused.

"what else makes you gay fres?" alba grinned, ignoring eli's warning stares to stop as you hesitated. "um painting, cake, matchbox cars, watching ale play football, collecing shells, music class-" you listed off thing after thing as the girls laughter grew and eli sighed in dissapointment.

"so you are very gay pequeña, sí?" alexia teased though you were yet to realise what the joke was as you nodded. "super gay." you confirmed with a nod, shovelling another mouthful of food in as alba slapped the table and clutched her stomach.

"congratulations eli, you are three for three!" jenni grinned as eli only shook her head with another sigh. "your sisters not gay, she's six!" the woman huffed as you looked on confused. "i am! i promise." you argued with an eager nod.

"sí mami don't be homophobic! if fresa is gay let her be gay." alba clicked her tongue, attempting to stop her giggles at the glare her mami fixed her with but unable to as you shrugged and kept eating, still not sure what was even so funny.

the next day alexia had a game so safely riding on alba's shoulders you followed after eli and a few of your family members into the stands, alba stopping off to get you a snack at your insistent begging.

"there, now stop whining and eat." the barcelona cap on your head was pulled down over your eyes as you pushed it back with a huff and made yourself comfortable. "i paid for it." alba warned as she stole a large bite and you gave her a mean glare.

alexia wasn't starting and you grew restless waiting for her to come on, standing in your seat and bouncing anxiously as finally her number was called and you and your family cheered happily as she raced on to replace patri.

it was a scrappy game but barcelona with an injury time goal came back from being down at the half to win 3-2, and you waited impatiently for the crowds to clear so you could go down and see your sister.

finally with alba taking your hand all of you made a break for the barrier, alexia lifting you right over as you hugged her tightly. "good goal!" you grinned patting her flushed cheek as she chuckled.

"assist." she corrected, tugging the cap again down over your eyes as you huffed and pushed it back, spotting a few of her teammates lingering around and tapping her shoulder to put you down.

"hola pequeña!" leila grinned as you sprinted toward her, scooping you up and kissing your cheek as you pulled a face and wiped it off making her laugh.

busying yourself rushing from player to player to say hi you eventually arrived to jenni who lifted you up and onto her own shoulders, eli nodding her approval from across the pitch as jenni pointed to the tunnel with a raised eyebrow, the team starting to make their way inside.

you were delighted as jenni carried you off after them, not often allowed into the change rooms at away games, alexia catching up not long after and again pulling your hat down as you grunted and took it off and threw it at her.

"grumpy." your sister teased, tucking the hat away into her bag as jenni sat you down on the bench and you chattered away to anyone who would listen.

"hey chiqui, what did we learn at dinner last night?" jenni asked as you were sat on her knee speaking to patri, mariona and leila. "oh. i'm gay!" you remembered as jenni whispered in your ear, all three girls exchanging a look before bursting into laughter.

with jenni's encouragement you went around to most of the girls you knew well and spread the news until alexia returned from showering, grabbing you with a roll of her eyes.

"my mami's gonna kill you." the girl warned her girlfriend though jenni didn't miss the slight smile of amusement on her face as she steered you out of the change rooms once you'd waved your goodbyes.

"don't be homophobic mi amor!"

#woso #woso community #woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso blurbs #🍓☀️

710 notes · View notes