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mangoisms · 10 months

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circle k (back to you)

summary: in which you're just the graveyard shift employee at circle k bombarded by vigilantes.

━ chapter one: on my way to circle k

━ pairing: tim drake x f!reader

━ word count: 4.3k

━ warnings: none

━ masterlist

The Slurpee machine is broken again.

It isn’t that big of an issue, not particularly world-ending, no, especially since you get regularly held at gunpoint (or knifepoint) and occasionally used as a hostage.

But for you, working the night shift from eleven PM to seven AM, you kind of need the sugar boost. The Slurpees are easier on your stomach than the coffee is. Even if they do stain your mouth.

You sigh, continuing to stare at the machine; it whirs and sputters strangely and you set aside the cup to shut it off. You’ll also need to file the paperwork for it to be fixed. That seriously blows.

You get it unplugged just as the gust of wind hits.

You stumble. Shelves groan in protest. Several rows of granola bars and trail mix are sent flying.

Oh, great, who is it now—

You hear your name in a question, from a very familiar voice.

You spit out a mouthful of your hair. “Flash?”

Sure enough, in the flesh, the Flash grins at you, blue lightning fading from his body. He spreads his arms as he exclaims your name again.

In a blink, he is there, arms wrapping around you, lifting you off the ground as he squeezes the life out of you. Another blink and you’re on the ground, looking at him, his hand on your shoulder.

“Look at you, kid. It’s good to see you. I can’t believe you’re still working here.”

A stupid grin forms on your lips. “It’s not the same here without you eating up our inventory.”

He laughs. “I bet!”

You shake your head, fixing your hair and your shirt. Flash notices the state of the granola bars and trail mix, sends you an apologetic smile, and in the next blink, they are back on the shelves, neatly arranged.

“So, what brings you here? If you can answer that.”

He waves a hand, flitting around, emptying the sausage grill and making himself several hot dogs.

“One of the rogues got a little, shall we say, ambitious and wanted to try his luck here. Just trying to snatch him up before Batman finds out.”

“Let me guess—Trickster?”

He points a hot dog loaded with mustard and ketchup at you. “Bingo.”

“It’s dripping.”

“Aw, shit.” He shoves the rest of the hot dog in his mouth, grabs a napkin, and starts dabbing at the spot of mustard on his suit.

You watch him, amused, but also morbidly fascinated as usual at seeing him eat so much. When he finishes the hot dogs, he goes for the pizza. It makes sense when you think about it, that a guy who can run faster than the speed of light should need to eat so much, but it’s been a while since you’ve had the pleasure of watching him refuel. Six months, actually, since you returned from Keystone City.

You scratch your head. “I’m not sure why Trickster would want to come here. Batman, I think, is a worse punishment than you—”

“Agree, even if that’s also a little insulting to me.”

“Oh, you know what I mean. You’re avoiding him, aren’t you?”

Flash nods. “This is true. Carry on.”

“Well… Gotham already has a joke-themed guy. I don’t think Joker is going to take too kindly to someone encroaching on that. Unless he’s back in Arkham. Though he might’ve escaped again…”

“Y’see, that’s what I thought. It’s gonna sound bad, too, but I’m kinda hoping those two take care of each other, then I can get Trickster back to Iron Heights without any issues. But—”

You crack a smile, guessing his next words immediately. “When is it ever that easy?”

You had once believed the Flash to be just about infallible. After all, he is the Flash. This is the guy who, like you said, can run faster than the speed of light. He can canvas a city in under a minute. That’s how he takes care of Central City and Keystone City. (Well, the addition of the other Flash and Kid Flash probably help, too, but you know.)

But it’s not that easy. It’s why, you think, Metropolis has issues, even when they have Superman.

No rest for the wicked and all.

“Well, it’s still good to see you,” you say, a tad more hesitantly this time. Unsure if you can say that.

Flash looks back at you, sending you a warm smile. “It’s good to see you, too. How’s school?”

“No classes now. Financial aid doesn’t cover the summer, so.”

He frowns. “You’re still on track to graduate next year, though, right?”

You pause, surprised he remembered you saying that. “Yeah, yeah, I am.”

Flash nods, worries assuaged, then his gaze strays to the Slurpee machine, its lights turned off. “Aw, it’s not working?”

“Not today, sorry.”

He purses his lips, head tilting as he looks at the counter where the machine and your abandoned cup are.

“Wait a second,” he says, then the food that was in his hands is on the counter and he’s gone with arcs of blue lightning following him, a tingly feeling spreading through your fingertips and toes, like when you used to be a kid and dragged your hands across those old TV screens, feeling the static.

True to his word, in the next second, he is in front of you, two Slurpees in hand. One blue raspberry and another cherry.

You grin as he proudly presents the blue raspberry Slurpee to you.

“Thanks.”

He winks. “My pleasure.”

He collects his food again then gestures to the front with his head. Sipping at the ice-cold Slurpee, you follow him, sliding behind the counter.

“Time to head off?” you guess, ringing up the food he already ate, then the rest of the stuff.

He slips out a few bills from a hidden pocket at his hip. “Yeah, I need to go before—”

“Flash!” The door opens roughly. You balk as you see who it is. “Seriously? You can’t just run off. You’re just as bad as Impulse sometimes, I swear.”

Red Robin stands there, hands on his hips, scowling, doing a good impression of a teacher scolding a student, which is really weird for you, since you’ve always held a good dose of fear and respect for the Bats and this doesn’t really… go on par with that. And also, you’re pretty sure Flash is older than him.

Flash frowns. “Now that’s seriously uncalled for. I’m much better than he is. We were done talking, weren’t we? You’d call me if you found anything and it’s not like it would take me time to get there, would it?”

Red Robin doesn’t respond to that, mostly because he’s looking at you now. You’ve never seen him up close — any of them up close. Black fair falls sharply over his forehead, a black domino mask hiding his eyes. Not like a normal one; this one allows for more coverage under his eyes, going down to his nose, the end of which curves in a way reminiscent of a bird. But under the bright fluorescents of Circle K, everything else is easy to make out. Pale skin, a sharp jaw, a soft-looking mouth.

Great. He’s hot. And something else… something that niggles at you. Familiar in a way that bothers you because you’ve never seen him in person. Not like this.

You swallow nervously, giving him a half-hearted wave. The action jars him and he looks away from you quickly.

“Hey, don’t be mean to her,” Flash chides. “Seriously. Look at her. You’ve made her nervous.”

“Flash.”

He shoots you a troublesome grin. “Nah, don’t worry about him, kid. He’s harmless.”

“Flash,” Red Robin hisses out, his voice sounding stranger than before, modulated, in a way.

You compose yourself, giving Flash a look. “You know better than that. Perception means everything.”

“That is true,” he says. “But believe me. If fear worked as well as they’d like it to, Gotham would be the safest city in the country.”

A long-suffering sigh. Red Robin is turned away now and by the movement of his arm, pinching the bridge of his nose, exasperated.

“Hey, I’m not wrong,” he says to him, even despite you silently waving for him to drop it. “Look, fear is fine and all. But I don’t think there’s anything wrong with nurturing relationships with the people you protect. That’s what I did with you, isn’t it, kid?”

“Yeah, but I’m also not, you know, from there…”

He collects his change. “Which is why it’s even more embarrassing that these guys make you nervous and I don’t.”

Red Robin huffs.

Flash shrugs, smirking. “Just food for thought. I’ll see you around, yeah, kiddo? Gotta get going before this guy gets annoyed enough to just tell Batman about me and then I’ll really have problems.”

Then he’s gone, blue lightning arcing in his wake. Red Robin sighs again and leaves without a word or backward glance.

You stand there for a minute, unsure if that really happened. But the signature Slurpee cup of blue raspberry, already sweating because the June heat in Gotham is unbearable and the AC is not up to task, assures you very much that that did just happen.

A little unsteady, you take a seat on the stool, shaking your head and dragging the cup to you.

At least you got to see Flash again.

You don’t see him again, which is what you expected.

What you don’t expect is the appearance of Red Robin the next night.

You’ve grown up in Gotham City. Like anyone else, you have a healthy dose of fear and respect for the vigilantes that prowl the shadows. You also, unlike Vicki Vale or any journalist or obsessive conspiracy theorist, have absolutely zero interest in interacting with them.

Usually, interacting with them means you are in grave danger.

(You had to unlearn some of that during your brief tenure in Keystone City; the Flash was a little bit different from them. Maybe more than a little bit…)

So, when Red Robin shows up at Circle K at half past one in the morning, you are… a tad wary.

It doesn’t help that he seems awkwardly frozen, too, as your voice catches in the middle of your perfunctory Hi, welcome in as you realize who it is.

For a minute, it is painfully, painfully quiet.

“Is there something—”

“Do you have any—”

You both stop. You purse your lips. Red Robin is… blushing a little bit? Holy shit.

“Go ahead,” he says, clearing his throat after. His voice still sounds off like yesterday—modulated.

You grimace. “Sorry, I was just asking if there was something going on? Should I lock down the shop or hide or something?”

He looks briefly confused. “No? I mean, no… Everything is fine. I was just wondering if you guys had any, uh—” he seems to falter, scrambling a little bit “—hot… chocolate?”

Hot chocolate in June? What a weirdo.

You keep your face straight, though.

Flash might’ve let you off the hook when it came to formalities but you’d be an idiot to think you could get away with that with these guys.

He exhales the briefest laugh at something, then—you, you realize, your expression, which should be perfectly polite, what the hell. He turns his head away as a smile curls his lips. That niggling feeling—which began as soon as you realized he was here—strengthens. You push it away for a second.

“I know. Late night. Don’t like coffee, so it’s a good alternative.”

How did he—?

Must be the detective thing.

You apologize anyway.

“Sorry. My, uh, friend’s like that, in a way,” you say, your tongue again moving faster than your brain can grapple with. He won’t care about the fact that your friend, Tim, is like that, too. Well, Tim likes the occasional energy drink if he’s staying up late because he doesn’t like coffee. Not this hot chocolate business. But maybe? Doesn’t sound like a bad idea, actually. Probably better than Red Bull, even if he doesn’t drink it often, maybe once or twice a month. And, anyway, it’s not the point. This guy doesn’t care. He probably couldn’t care less. You’re just trying to show him—oh, it doesn’t matter. This entire thing has gone straight to shit. All because he managed to read your judgment.

“Oh?” It’s a question but it’s a bit strangled. See? He doesn’t care. Poor guy. Probably trying to think of a way to get out of this. Well, you’ll do him one better.

“Uh, yeah… he’s—well. Doesn’t matter. Yeah, the machine is working. It’s over there.”

“Thanks.”

You nod and glance away, leaving him to cross to the other side of the store. You can’t help but watch him go, watching the way the heavy black cape swishes with his movements, boots soundless on the shitty tiled floors. He disappears behind the shelf, but his head is visible. A head of dark, dark hair that seems… familiar to you.

Ugh. What is with you?

It’s Red freakin’ Robin. You’ve glimpsed him and the others briefly. Shadows in the night, swinging from buildings, jumping from rooftops. Anybody who lives in Gotham long enough has seen the same. Doesn’t mean you know him enough to be this way, to be so bothered by something that won’t even come to mind.

You shake your head briefly.

You should think more on why he’s even here.

Though, it seems obvious, given what happened yesterday night.

Flash has a way of getting beneath your skin and inciting the most childish tendencies. You imagine his little comment about trust between vigilante and citizen bothered Red Robin.

Well, rest assured, you understand the position they are in. You enjoyed the way Flash visited you but they can’t afford that. Perception is gold. It is true, in some ways, that if it were as effective as they wanted it to be, Gotham would be less crime-ridden than it currently is.

(But that was also a conundrum with the corrupt government. So long as the systems were in place, crime would always happen, and it would take more than the Bats to fix that.)

Either way, they cannot afford for that mask to slip—metaphorically and literally.

There is a level of trust, you think, between the Bats and the people but… it’s not the same kind Flash fosters with his own.

You feel obligated to let Red Robin know that, with that, he has no obligation to do anything out of the ordinary.

So, that’s what you do when he comes back over to the counter, two small cups of hot chocolate in hand.

“You don’t have to do this, you know.”

He turns forward with a five dollar bill in hand. “I can’t just not pay—”

“I’m not talking about that.”

He is paying. You are moderately appreciative of what they do but not that appreciative.

“So, what else is it that I don’t have to do?”

You gesture between you two. “This. Come here to try and prove the Flash wrong.”

“I’m not—”

You try to level with him.

“It’s cool, man. He can be annoying. Annoying enough that he could make anyone want to prove him wrong. I get it. But he’s also a little bit of a doof when it comes to matters of the public. Though I’m betting he was trying to aggravate you more than anything. Either way, I get it. You have an image to keep up. Do what you have to do.”

“So, you don’t want me to come back?” Not an accusation. A genuine question.

You blink. “That’s not what I said. I don’t mind. I’m just… letting you know.”

“What do you know about it, anyway? Upholding an image? You seem very confident on the do’s and don’ts, despite being a civilian.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You guys actually refer to us non-vigilantes as civilians? Like, unironically?”

He doesn’t say anything. Just looks at you with the emotionless white lids of the domino mask, lips pressed in a line.

You smile and roll your eyes, finally taking his five and opening the register. “I’m majoring in communication with a concentration in PR. Did an internship at Quickstart Enterprises last semester working with their PR department. You can say I know a thing or two about it.”

“What year?”

“Just finished my third. Starting my final in the fall. Look, I’m not saying you have to take my advice, I just wanted you to know. That’s all. I’m not holding it against you.”

“I’ll take it under advisement.”

You slide his change to him. “That’s all I ask.”

He picks up the cups, says, “Keep the change,” and then, he’s gone, dark cape fluttering, his figure swallowed up by the darkness of the night.

The only traces of his presence is the door slowly closing and the change still sitting on the counter.

These hero-types and their dramatic exits. Honestly.

You meet the Flash in your second week of work at Circle K.

The stipend from QE covered your housing and groceries but didn’t allow for much options regarding the latter. At least not the fresh produce kind.

So, you picked up a job at Circle K. Part-time only, which worked well with the schedule you had at QE. You typically worked evenings—not the graveyard shift you do now, which you took only because it paid better during the night—so from seven to eleven.

The Flash was different from the Bats in that regard. While Signal worked during the day, the rest of them worked during the night.

Flash told you he liked sleep, so he would take care of things during a reasonable hour in the evening to accommodate that, which meant you were beheld to his presence.

Frequently.

And the first time…

You have no idea what to make of the superhero currently raiding the sausage grill.

A larger part of you is suspicious, hoping that the Flash isn’t about to come up to you and say something arrogant about not being required to pay. A lot of the cops you get say something to that effect. It takes so much willpower in you to not roll your eyes.

But another part of you right now, the Tim part of your brain, is fascinated. Wants to ask some geeky questions about his power. Presumably, the fact that he is the fastest man alive means he has to eat a lot to sustain it, right?

Well. That one is a bit self-explanatory. At least if the way he’s stuffing his face tells you anything.

Suspicion wins out, though.

Keystone City is a nice enough city. Central City, across the river, is the same. They aren’t Gotham, that’s for sure, and sometimes you don’t know if that’s a blessing or a curse.

It’s mostly that Keystone City is situated in Kansas and across the Mississippi, in Mississippi, is Central City. These regions of the country, historically conservative, make you a bit tetchy. Not at all helped by the fact that for a very long time, Keystone City was suspended in the fifties. Or rather, what they thought were the fifties. Time passed normally outside of it until the Flash fixed everything.

It gives Keystone an aesthetic old-timey vibe to it but with all the modern luxuries of the late 2010s, like phones and, you know, civil rights.

But things have been okay, for the most part. The people you encounter here at Circle K are amiable enough. (Well, except for the cops you get. You could go without dealing with those idiots.)

Though, admittedly, between work for QE and here and trying to keep yourself fed and (mostly) rested, you haven’t gotten out much.

The Flash, though… you haven’t directly encountered him. Not in your few weeks here. Sometimes when walking to the subway, you feel the sharp gust of wind, commonly associated with him as he makes his way through the city faster than a speeding bullet, glass windows and cars rattling dangerously in the aftermath of his path. On the news, when he takes down whichever rogue woke up on the wrong side of the bed, and in the newspaper. But nothing beyond that.

People speak fondly of him, for the most part. Rumors are solid sources of information but you just can’t help but be a little bit suspicious. There is such a thing as too good to be true, after all…

You reach for your half-empty cup of blue raspberry Slurpee. Though it’s the beginning of September, summer takes longer to leave the midwest, you’ve learned, and the summers here are loads worse than ones you’ve experienced in Gotham.

Before you can even get your mouth around the red straw, a breeze hits and you blink, finding the Flash in front of you, depositing mostly empty cartons of hot dogs onto the counter, with a few of them still full. On their way to being empty, though, as he crams more into his mouth. A cup of cherry Slurpee finishes it off.

The Flash points a half-eaten hot dog at you. “You aren’t from around here, are you?”

You narrow your eyes. “I’m sorry?”

“No, no, not like that. You’ve just got this suspicion to you. This… paranoia. A paranoia that can only belong to someone from Gotham,” he says, nodding to himself.

Well, that’s—

Hm.

A bit embarrassed to be caught out like that—because it isn’t the first time—you attempt to make up for it.

“I’m from Metropolis, actually.”

Best to stay on the east coast. Even you couldn’t pass as someone from the west coast, like Star City or Coast City or something.

Flash grins at you. “Liar.”

You aren’t used to this kind of playful banter. Certainly not from a literal superhero, from someone who regularly saves the world with the likes of Superman, Batman, and Wonder Woman and more. You don’t think you expected the cold brutality the city gets from the Bats back home but… you didn’t expect this, either.

To get a much-needed sense of normalcy, you scan one of the hot dog cartons, adding them up on the screen.

“Was it that obvious? I wasn’t trying to be… I mean, I was, but, you know, I didn’t, um…”

You stop, cringing. Very eloquent and more than a little annoying, given your career choice. Can’t be like that when you get put on the spot. Even if it’s by a superhero. Especially if it’s by a superhero. Journalists are even worse, anyway…

“Relax, kid,” he laughs. “To tell you the truth, it was hard to miss but I’m sort of geared for that kind of thing, what with my choice in career.”

“Right.” You scan the Slurpee and take a drink of yours while he fiddles with some zipper in his suit. A deep red, with a purple tinge, a silver Flash symbol on his chest, and a cowl, but with the top free, showing off a shock of red hair, and his eyes still exposed. Pretty green.

“But I do have an unfair advantage,” he goes on. “I see a similar look every time I have a League meeting.”

You blink. “The League…?”

“You should know. Your caped crusader, Batman. Of course, that’s also because he doesn’t like me—and the feeling is mutual, trust me—but, you know. Schematics. He sits right across from me and that’s all I get, this classic brand of Gothamite suspicion on top of the usual wordless Batman disapproval.”

“Should you be telling me that?”

He hands you a twenty. You pop open the register to break it. Another breeze hits and the empty cartons of hot dogs are shoved into the trash, with him eating the last one and on his way to finishing the large cup of cherry-flavored Slurpee.

“I mean, what are you gonna do?”

“I don’t know,” you say lightly, calculating his change. “I could go to the press. Breaking News: Strife within the League. Tenuous relations between Batman and the Flash.”

“Oh, really?”

“That’s the press. A common dislike will absolutely turn into that in their headlines. They would take it and run.”

“That is true. You a journalist?”

“Oh, no. Communications, with a concentration in public relations.”

Flash thinks on it for a second, finishing his hot dog, then the Slurpee. You partially expect him to get angry. It would be a justified reaction. He doesn’t know you and you don’t know him. You can admit that some of what you just said is a bit… imperious. Who are you to lecture him, right?

“You aren’t wrong,” he finally says, repeating his earlier words as the last hot dog carton and Slurpee cup disappear from the counter—thrown in the trash.

“But,” he presses, accepting the change from you—a few dollars—then dropping it into your tip jar. “I know you aren’t going to take that to the press.”

“How’s that?”

He points at you. “Because I don’t think you’re the kind of person to do that.”

“You’re appealing to my morals?”

“Yes. Is it working?”

“Not much work to be had,” you admit. “I was never going to. I was just…”

“Being nice and telling me I should watch what I say,” he finishes, grinning. “Which is true. All true. I just couldn’t help myself. What’s your name, kid?”

You tell him. He extends a hand.

“It’s nice to meet you. Welcome to Keystone City. Hope you enjoy your stay.”

A bit bemused, you nod politely and say, “Thanks.”

Before he can say anything else, he visibly tenses, lifting a hand to the Hermes-like wings at his ears, then, in the next blink, he is gone, off to stop someone or something, leaving you with a sharp gust of wind that rattles the windows and knocks the candy from the shelves under the counter onto the ground.

Well, then.

Talk about a first impression.

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mortiferumsomnum · 2 years

Text

Burgers are How You Summon the Almighty Ghost King

EDIT: MASTERLIST

***

Look. Bernard didn’t think it would actually work.

But, there he was. The Ghost King! In all his.... teenager glory...

“You are the Ghost King... right?” Bernard asked, handing the teen a ham sandwich he just put together.

“Oh, thanks,” said the teen, accepting the sandwich. “And, yeah. But I haven’t had my coronation yet, so a friend of mine is overlooking some things until I’m ready.”

“Cool,” said Bernard. Then, he gave the teen an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry for summoning you, dude. When I read in the pamphlet that you needed ketchup and mustard drawn in the constellation of Corona Borealis, I really didn’t think it would work because it involved condiments and not... you know... blood sacrifices?”

The teen nodded. And after swallowing, he said, “It’s cool. I’m just surprised that the summoning requirements changed that fast across realms after a few jokes I made. It seems some ghosts just don’t leave things be. They probably worked this fast to tick me off...” The teen snorted at what he said, before continuing with a casual wave of his sandwich, “I should change the requirements again, into something more complicated maybe.”

“I could give you some ideas!” Bernard said. Then he gasped. “My boyfriend is REALLY good at contingencies and plans! He could give you some ideas, too!”

The teen frowned worriedly. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” he asked.

Bernard nodded, a bit enthusiastically because his bangs were hitting his eyes. “He’s amazing like that! And this isn’t just bias talking! He’s really good at almost everything, it’s insane! He’s a dork, but-”

“Okay! Okay,” the teen laughed. “I get it, he’s amazing.”

“Hell yeah, he is!!” Bernard said, hoping his smile isn’t too dopey.

O_O_O_O

Tim blinked. He blinked at the evidence of the summoning. He grimaced at the black ants that’s marching towards the mess.

Then he blinked at the white-haired teen in some kind of hazmat suit that blinked at him with eyes that reminded him too much of Jason. But Danny’s face looks kinda... familiar...?? Nah, no it doesn’t. But the green eyes does make Tim internally theorize that neon green is associated with death.

Then, he blinked at Bernard’s excited smile.

“Okay, first off, this summoning ritual is insulting,” Tim said, gesturing to it. “There’s barely any drama.”

The white haired teen ducked his head in embarrassment. “I was joking with some of the ghosts in charge of changing the summoning rituals... I don’t exactly understand why it’s important to have something that can summon me when the Ghost Realm and the Living Realm should be kept separate but... well... they insisted. And I was annoyed. And hungry. So, I said the next best thing that came to mind.”

Tim nodded. If he were less tired, he would be snorting in amusement and making some kind of joke Kon would be proud of. But right now? Tim had been awake for the last 71 hours and 45 minutes, a quarter of an hour before the hallucinations sets in, and the only thing keeping him going is coffee and Bernard’s promise for a sandwich. And Bernard, bless his boyfriend, is REALLY GOOD at making sandwiches.

“Okay,” he said, sitting down at the table and taking a bite out of his sandwich. “What if the ritual involved making sandwiches?”

Bernard frowned at his boyfriend. He rubbed Tim’s back, which was heavenly because Bernard’s hands were pleasantly warm. “Are you okay, Babe?”

“I’ll be fine,” he said. “But like you said, we’re just putting together ideas, so I’m also just spouting everything that comes out of my head.”

The teen nodded in understanding. “Right? Food’s just that powerful!” Then, his face turned serious. “I want it to involve making a burger. Not bought, but made from scratch from the summoner.”

Tim nodded, bringing out a notepad and wrote down what the teen said in the most illegible scribble Bernard’s ever seen. Hmmm, maybe Tim needs some rest.

“What should be the ingredients?” Tim asked, not looking up from his notepad while twirling his pen.

“We need to find the best burger there is in this world,” the teen said. “And then, we write down the ingredients for it, the step-by-step process of how it should be prepared, and what kind of soda it should be paired with.”

Tim nodded, jotting down what Danny said.

Bernard was honestly amused and worried. “Are you sure this is the kind of summoning that you want?”

The teen nodded. “It shouldn’t just be a burger bought from some fast-food burger joint. It has to be a Burger that I would be HAPPY to eat when I get summoned and have to listen to some creepy person’s plan for world domination!”

“Not everyone who will summon you will want to dominate the world,” Tim said.

The teen crossed his arms. “Then they should have no problem inviting me to a meal over a talk about how to save the world or whatnot.”

Tim circled some... scribbles and then closed his notepad with a snap, clicking his pen with finality and nodding towards the teen.

“By the way, what should we call you?” he asked the teen, who blinked at him. “I get the ‘names hold power’ thing, but I thought that only applies to the fae?” Tim asked, looking to Bernard for confirmation. And when Tim has to look to Bernard for confirmation, you KNOW that the young man is that badly sleep-deprived.

The teen laughed. “Don’t worry! You guys can know my name,” he said. Then, with a grin, a silver light circled around him and transformed him into a regular looking teen with black hair and blue eyes while wearing a Nasa shirt and a pair of jeans. He then held a hand out, and introduced himself, “I’m Danny.”

Tim blinked. Danny looked... a lot like Damian. Which should be concerning because his skin was just as dark as Damian’s a while ago... maybe Tim was too focused on the glowing green eyes? Damian also has green eyes... Huh. Does being a ghost make other people unable to recognize you when you’re being one?

Tim looked to his watch. It’s also 4 am. Oh...

Then, Tim looked to Bernard. “The hallucinations has set in.”

“Dammit, Babe!” Bernard screeched before catching his idiot boyfriend.

_______________________________

*loud cackling* I’ve been drowning in Danny Phantom and Batman crossovers for days!!!! It was only time until I contributed something to the fandom! XD

Unfortunately, I’m not that good with multi-chapter fics, so I’m going to share the ideas I have for this AU!!

So:

- It’s a Danny and Damian are twins AU! Danny was an unnamed baby. He was weak and he was close to dying. Ra’s wanted him dead. Talia faked the baby’s death and tasked a loyal subordinate on his way to another mission in another state to drop the baby off somewhere safe. If the child were going to die, he should die in a place where he’ll feel love and care as a final gift from his mother.

- That love and care comes in the form of a two year old red head named Jazz who was out on a stroll with her giant father. It was sisterly-love at first sight on the baby left on the doorsteps of some old man that hated kids. Jazz wanted to keep the baby. And Jack, unable to say no to his princess, picks up the baby with such care, it was fatherly-love at first sight for Jack as well. Once the baby was brought home, cleaned and put into the yellow onesies Jazz once owned, Maddie had arrived home from shopping for some parts. One look at the baby, and it was motherly-love at first sight, too. When things start going wrong at their home, and the children are left to their own devices, Jazz would always care for her brother first.

- (I really didn’t think much about how they separate because I didn’t focus on that)

- Now, other than the explanation Danny gave, the importance of having a summoning ritual for the ghost king in this AU is in case the world truly is in danger and requires the ghost king’s help. Of course, while Pariah Dark was king, the summoning rituals were made difficult for the very reason that Pariah was an evil tyrant and shouldn’t be summoned because he will destroy the world rather than save it.

- Now that Danny is King, the ghosts know that the kid won’t be abusing his powers, not even in the human world. So, even if it were a joke, it was really alright for his summoning ritual to be easy. Plus, they really did want to tick him off and make him learn the hard way that he should take what they’re trying to advise him seriously. Clockwork even told them it was okay!

- Thankfully, it wasn’t the Guys in White or, Ancients forbid, his parents that summon him! It was someone who’s like Wes, but chiller. Danny Really Does need to make it more complicated.

- But having his summoning ritual involve Making Burgers?? That’s the only easy part. Danny wants to also put in them being able to imitate the Mona Lisa Portrait, the Chicken Dance - SCRATCH THAT! MAKE THEM DO THE COFFIN DANCE!, and---

- Tim is looking at him with JUDGMENT. And Danny is offended because it was Tim that suggested Sandwich-making in the first place! And then, Tim AGREED to the burger making!!

- Tucker thought it was a great idea when he returned to attend school! Sam doesn’t really care as long as the Burger doesn’t involve killing a cow by their hands and instead involves ground beef processed in the market.

- Tim tells him that they can make it complicated, but they are REMOVING THE MONA LISA AND COFFIN DANCE IDEA, and, like, Fine! Maybe having art and dance skills shouldn’t be a requirement!

- Tim then suggests that maybe the summoner should know the true value of ghosts, or, have knowledge that ghosts are sentient beings.

- Because Danny gives them a whole run-down on the laws involving ghosts that’s kept hush-hush by the government but is really there and hasn’t been changed. Tim wonders if Jason is really a zombie like he claims to be, or is actually half-ghost like Danny. But pushes it aside, because right now, researching on the internet on different burger recipes is confusing the fuck out of Bruce and Tim is thriving on it.

- But, to test Tim’s theory, Tim invites Jason to help them cook the different burger recipes. He advises Danny to be invisible while Jason does it, and he agrees. So, he transforms and turns invisible. But the moment Jason is there, Danny drops his invisibility, walks up to Jason, who’s in a daze, and cries while hugging the man.

- The Ghost King has many powers. And seeing how a ghost had died is one of them. (A headcanon for this au, because why not? I think it’s pretty angsty and cool! But also, it’s like after defeating the previous Ghost King, the powers associated with being Ghost King is also passed on? For now, Danny is still training on how to get a hold of these powers. But in the future, he’ll be able to control his powers, so he won’t be seeing the past of every ghost he meets without their consent. Consent is sexy, guys.)

- While Danny is hugging Jason, the corrupted ectoplasmic energy was getting purified. But Danny can only do the purification in small doses. And, well, he doesn’t need to hug Jason to purify him, but Danny doesn’t want to tell Jason that because the big guy looks deprived of hugs. So a daily dose of purification hugs is recommended for our resident undead.

- Jason grumbles, but assents to it because he hasn’t felt this light in years. He also helps them make the burgers.

- “We should just say ‘Get Jason Todd to cook your burgers, buy some root beer, and draw the constellation with melted chocolate’” Danny says, enjoying the burgers.

- Bernard nods, licking a finger clean of ketchup and mustard. “You gotta teach me how to make burgers like this, man,” he says to Jason. “The only burger patties I cook are the ones already packaged.”

- Jason smirked. “I’m still a student,” he said. Bernard and Danny were in disbelief. But Tim only nodded. “Alfred is the real master. He’s British, but the only food he messes up are the waffles and mashed potatoes. Everything else, he’s excels.”

- “But... anyone can make mashed potatoes???????”

- “We have a bet going on that he messes them up on purpose because Bruce likes them that way.”

- It’s when Danny de-transforms that Jason blinks and goes, “Whoa, you look like the Demon Brat!”

- Which then just proves Tim’s theory that maybe being a ghost has something to do with people recognizing them as humans. Maybe there’s an instant glamour when you’re a ghost for strangers to be unable to recognize you? Maybe when the ghost allows it, you’d be able to recognize them even as they appear or transform in front of you? Do all ghosts have the ability to appear human? Or is it just Danny? Can Jason transform?? But is Jason even half-ghost???

- (In this au, I’m having the glamour only working on halfas., but only because they assume two identities. When you’re a full ghost, you don’t have a different identity just your ghost one. Jason is not a ghost, he’s mostly human, not fully, because even as a human there is ectoplasmic energy running in his veins. Jason’s eyes will be glowing when he’s experiencing strong negative emotions, but these negative emotions are now more manageable. So, Jason is a human with ectoplasmic energy running in his veins. He doesn’t have two identities to switch with. No glamour for him, but being purified does make him a little bit stronger. Not superman strong, but the kind when you’re on an adrenaline high.)

- But also, yep, Tim wasn’t imagining it. Danny did look like Damian.

- It was then Bernard takes out his board full of red string and shares his theory on why Danny could be Damian’s long lost twin brother. Tim was probably asleep when he put this board together.

- “Assassins? Really?” Danny asked, amused. “I mean, I know I’m adopted, but why would I be associated with assassins? Wouldn’t the assassins be watching over me and keeping a closer eye on me in case my twin can’t take over as heir and they’d need a placeholder??”

- And so Bernard goes on, on how Danny was the weaker one of the twins. And maybe the boss wanted only the strong one, and maybe his mother had some ounce of motherly sympathy for him to be brought into a loving family before he eventually died. And there wasn’t any assassin assigned to him because they were so sure he’d die. Danny did explain to them that he got sick easily when he was younger. But after the accident that killed him, he didn’t get sick anymore. (Danny didn’t tell them that he’s still alive, though. He just told them he died, while he’s in the ghost world, he defeated the previous ghost king, and now he’s the ghost king).

- Cue Tim and Jason sweating in the background. Bernard could be right, because he mostly was right about Damian being associated with Assassins. But Danny doesn’t look convinced, just indulging, so thank goodness for that!

- So, it goes to a question on whether he wanted to meet Damian. But Danny tells them that he’ll think about it.

- So, they get on with choosing which burger “felt right”, but Danny decides to bring a burger he loves. From Nasty Burger. And asks Jason to try and make a better version.

- “Timmy, look for the recipe, will ya?”

- Danny is amused at the illegal hacking that was going on, but even if the recipe for Nasty Burgers might be a well-kept secret of the burger joint, he has no doubt these nerds will be able to find it.

- Tim downloads the recipe, Danny brings over the Nasty Burgers, they taste it and comments that it goes on par with Bat Burgers, to which Bernard arrives with his own batch for Danny to try.

- And, they were right. They are on par with each other. They both have their own distinct flavors for their patties, it’s unreal!

- Danny then decides to let both be a requirement for the ritual. A better version for both Bat Burger and Nasty Burger as improved by Jason Todd.

- After a full week of trying to make the perfect nasty burger and bat burger, Danny has to include all the other requirements for the ritual (like the root beer and how the constellation will be drawn, and that one requirement Tim suggested of the human having to have understanding of ghosts being more than just ghosts... Does Jason make a poem for Danny about it? Yes, he does. But nobody but Danny knows about this.)

-Finalized, The summoner has to read the poem out loud, draw the constellation with barbeque sauce, and place the ready-made burger by the summoner in the middle.

- Once Danny has put everything together, and tells the ghosts to update the summoning ritual, he asks Bernard to test it out (Jason ended up taking Bernard as a student in cooking).

- Danny appears in all his Ghost King glory, complete with a Nasty Burger Crown and Blanket Cape, with some cool neon green light show and some cool fog.

- It was a success! And they eat pizza as a celebration because they were sick of burgers already.

- They say good-bye to Danny. Danny tells them that he’ll still be visiting for Jason’s daily purification hugs, and they make plans for meeting up together.

....

- One day, Damian as Robin catches Jason in his safe-house watching a movie with Timothy, Bernard, and... a clone of himself? But that’s a story for another day.

#dc x dp #dp x dc #danny fenton #bernard dowd #timothy drake #tim drake #jason todd #timbern #goddamn this is long what the fuck #do i know anything about these two franchises other than what i read on tumblr and ao3?? NOPE!#i haven't revisited danny phantom nor read the dc comics and it shows #might post later on ao3

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moonlit-imagines · 3 months

Text

Robin and the Stray (Part 1)

Dick Grayson x reader

warnings:

a/n: you already know this is based off of an oc and you already know im gonna write it like its just your average y/n. i dont even know if yall hate this or not but TOO BAD (im kidding please start paying attention to this blog again i long for the days i mattered)

prompt:

part 2

Gotham City, all the way back when you were kids. Didn’t feel like it, though. Not when you two were up all night off on adventures—more like missions—and occasionally crossing paths. Batman and Robin weren’t too fond of you and Catwoman giving them headaches from time to time with your heists and all that fun stuff. But sooner or later they cracked and started letting you two off the hook.

The flirting was just playful at first, a literal get-out-of-jail free card, if you will. But somewhere down the line, you started to mean it. You liked your time spent with Robin, and every once in a while you’d even let him catch you.

Nights that you and Selina split up, the Bat and the Bird had to do the same. That’d when you got him alone. And after a while, you’d just end up on a random rooftop teasing him in some silly, flustering way. A cute comment here and there to let him know you were still interested. Jumping across rooftops and crawling up fire escapes to keep him on his toes while you talked. Although you were still strangers out of these costumes, you still managed to drop a little personal detail every once in a while to bond. Part of you worried if he was only letting you escape to trick you into some false sense of security, lately you’ve been returning stolen goods to him just to see him again.

And night after night there were new encounters, only in these you weren’t really doing anything wrong. Just pouncing around and watching the city, almost like you were on patrol. You could tell him you were just watching over Gotham while he was elsewhere.

It was funny how awkward he was at first when you met. But it’d been some months since the Cats got out of the bag, and Selina was starting to warm up to Batman, too. It was kind of cute. Robin seemed so much more confident talking to you nowadays, he flirted back and laughed with you and pretended you got away when Batman asked where you went (oh, and Catwoman also got away!).

There was one particular night that you’ll never forget. This one night where you’d just snuck out to be in the city, secretly hoping Robin was out, too. All suited up in your catlike garb roaming the streets and rooftops of Gotham, and hours went by without a sighting of your special guy. You sat at the ledge of a rooftop overlooking Downtown Gotham—a bit too close to GCPD, but maybe that was where you needed to be.

It wasn’t long before Robin saw a figure concerningly close to the edge of a high building, and he could just barely make out those cat ears on your head. He awkwardly split off from Batman, who warned him not to do anything stupid. They had just put away a D-list villian and, let’s face it, they’re the most annoying ones to deal with and Batman now had to wash ketchup and mustard out of the crevices of his armor.

Robin met you up top, cheeks warming when he saw your immediate smile when you turned around, he gave you the same one. “Do you want to get a pizza?” He asked you with a shrug and a tilt of his head. You furrowed your brows just barely. “I guess not?”

“I mean—sure. But you want to go now? Like, dressed like this?” You sort of giggled, leaning into the idea just a little.

“Why not?” Robin asked you, eyes gleaming with just a bit of boy wonder. “Gotham’s seen weirder.”

“How’s that gonna affect your ‘image,’ huh? A good boy like you hanging out with the likes of a cat burglar, what would dear old Jim Gordon have to say?” You kept teasing him, but it seemed he was set on the idea. “You don’t even care, do you, Birdy?”

“I don’t, actually.” He said, extending his gloved hand to you. You accepted his help off the ledge and got to your feet.

“Got a place in mind?” You asked him as he walked off without an answer. “Okay, Batman.” You crossed your arms and walked behind him, only half-amused with his manners. But he was still cute the way he acted like Batman in those bright colors and tight pants. At least they’d been tweaked over the past few months, you couldn’t tell if he’d hit some kind of growth spurt or he just really liked tight clothes.

“See that sign over there?” Robin pointed down the street, a bright neon sign displayed the word “PIZZA” in red lettering, encased in a yellow circle you assumed was also pizza. “Twenty-four hours. You’ll be glad to know they do their best work in these hours.”

“You mean ‘vigilante hours?’” You joked, nudging him with your elbow.

“Something like that.” He nudged back. Suddenly, he leaped off the edge of the building—which actually wasn’t that tall if you were used to this sort of thing—and used a grapple gun to break the landing.

“Wow. We’re doing this, huh.” You equipped a whip and secured it to the neighboring building, descending yourself in a much more anticlimactic way—but still impressive if you weren’t used to this sort of thing. “Show off.”

“Had to do it one of these days, you’re always one-upping me.” He said walking forward, just a casual stroll down the streets of Gotham in costume, ignoring any pedestrians or nearby residents that may be up this late. Part of you hoped that you’d run into trouble just to see how it’d feel to fight side by side, show him you’re more than just mischief, you’re a bit kickass, too.

After a few minutes of chatting, the pair of you made it to the pizza shop. Robin opened the door for you where the bell above the door chimed when you entered. The employees watched as two masked freaked walked inside and casually asked what they could get for you. You shrugged when Robin looked at you for your preference, letting him pick for you. Then he pulled out a couple twenty dollar bills from his pocket and told them “keep the change.”

“Got any more of those for me?” You batted your eyes and tilted your head.

“You want to get paid for this date?” He chuckled, wondering if he should make his next joke, but he knew you had a sense of humor. “Wouldn’t that make you a hooker?” You broke into laughter that he joined in on and tapped him on the arm.

“Hey, whatever you wanna call me. As long as I get a couple bucks, what’s the harm?” You joked back and Robin thought to himself how nice your genuine laughter was, not just those careful little chuckles and giggles were. Your true smile was goofy and brilliant to him. Lost in the moment, your order was called up and the two of you left the shop with a hot box of pizza.

“Hold this real quick?” Robin handed the box off to you, then grabbed your waist and grappled to a nearby rooftop as you squealed from surprise.

“What ever happened to a gentlemanly warning? I could have dropped the pizza!” You told him as he took it back.

“Looks good to me.” He peeked in and brought it to another ledge. “I take it you like the view?”

“What do you mean?” You walked closer and took a seat.

“I always see you sitting or standing on the edge of these buildings. You just brooding?” He raised a brow.

“That’s more of a Batman thing.” You took a piece of pizza and took a bite.

“Then tell me why you’re always hanging out on tall buildings.”

“I like looking around, is that a crime?” You asked with a mouthful of cheese and bread.

“No, but breaking and entering is. And stealing, of course.” He took a slice and sat beside you. Below your dangling feet was just another street of Gotham City, a street he protected and you would just watch. Nothing special about it, especially since there were no museums or penthouses here.

You sat with your hands at your sides, leaning forward a bit to get a better view of the ground. It was then that you felt a gentle touch, Robin’s hand on yours. You glanced at him from the side and he saw as your lip curled slightly. If you didn’t know any better, you might have seen him blush. It was strange in a way, feeling so drawn to someone without a name. “Robin” had a nice ring to it, though.

taglist: @volturi-stuff // @ravenmoore14 // @canarypoint // @brutal-out-here // @jinxll11 // @swanimagines // @captainshazamerica // @greek-mythographer // @cipheress-to-k-pop // @summersimmerus // @glxwingrxse // @azazel-nyx // @simsrecs // @xoxobabydolls // @ruvaakke // @ravenstrueluv // @evilcr0ne // @sydknee624 // @retvenkos // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @elenavampire21 //

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson #dick grayson imagine #nightwing #nightwing x reader #nightwing imagine #dc comics #dc comics x reader #dc comics imagine #titans #titans x reader #titans imagine

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pastafossa · 2 years

Text

“It’s... Really Yellow?” (Matt Murdock x f!Reader, Fanfic)

Ok so in honor of ALLLLLL the good Charlie news today and us getting a little more of him in the red and yellow suit in the trailers, I’ve decided to finally pull this little drabble out of my folders and finish it since I’ve gotten some requests about what The Red Thread!Reader’s reaction would be to Matt’s new suit. You do NOT have to have read TRT to get this, it’s just a nice bonus (and for those who DO read it, just know this is set *waves* in their future).

Ship: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Rating: Mildly NSFW at best. There’s some suggestive stuff, lots of innuendo, but no sex or anything.

Summary: Foggy needs you to help him convince Matt that red and reflective yellow are ridiculous colors to wear as a stealthy Devil. Unfortunately for Foggy, Matt knows exactly how to convince you otherwise.

Wordcount: 2,942

Warnings: innuendo, language, Matt turning the Devil voice on you, bad use of puns, Matt’s ability to look good in literally anything

“Look at me,” Foggy said fiercely, pointing at your eyes and then his. “You can’t forget what we talked about when he shows up. Ok?”

You scoffed where you’d leaned up against the humming a.c. unit, relaxing on the rooftop as you both waited. At least it was the rooftop of your and Matt’s building. There were far less things to worry about up here. “Of course I’m not going to forget. That’s ridiculous.”

“Good. Because it’s—I don’t know how you missed it last night—”

“I told you. I was asleep when he came in, and he had to leave early this morning for that case.” You rolled one shoulder in a shrug. “I knew he was going to pick up the new suit last night, and I tried to stay up but passed out on the couch. Woke up in bed when he kissed me bye before work. I figured he could just show me tonight when he was done with his patrol.”

“Yeah, see, that’s my point,” he said quickly, absently shaking out one foot. He was probably trying to keep himself awake. It wasn’t often you both tried to stay up for the moment Matt came back from his circuit around the Kitchen. There had to be at least one person who kept normal human hours. “It should have woken you up. You wanna know why? Because it’s—”

“It’s yellow, I know. You’ve said.”

“Yellow!” Foggy thundered, flinging his hands up towards the sky in an apparent show of outrage. “Yellow and red, ketchup and mustard! How is this stealthy unless you’re disguised as a hot dog? He’s-he’s reflective! This is anti-stealth, and he already gets into too much shit when he is stealthy! He should have woken you up like a yellow disco ball or a mustard torch!”

“What even is a mustard torch?” you mused.

“A mustard torch is what he is now,” Foggy groaned, reaching up to scrub at his face. “It’s absolutely ridiculous. ‘Why not black?’ I asked. Do you know what he said? He just blinked at me like he was shocked and said, ‘but I’ve already done black twice, Foggy.’ That’s what he said!”

“I mean… he has, though, so...”

“Listen to me.” Foggy tapped his temple, trying to psych you up. “No getting distracted. He’ll try it. He’ll use every trick he has on you. You’ve seen him in court. And you are our only tiebreaker. Karen’s staying out of it, Jess just mocks every suit he wears, and Spider-kid is too innocent to bring into this. You need to hold the line. You’re the only one who can talk some sense into him about the hot dog colors. I need reconfirmation you’re with me on this. We need to be a united front.”

And granted, you hadn’t actually seen the suit yet since Matt had only gotten it last night and despite your best efforts, you’d unfortunately fallen asleep before he’d gotten back. But from what Foggy had said, it did sound… a little silly. It was red and yellow—and not just yellow, but apparently a reflective, gleaming yellow. Matt wasn’t exactly the best judge of color, obviously, but surely even he’d realize that painting himself like a reflective road marker would make the whole sneaky devil thing a whole lot more difficult. This was smug. It was cocky. It was…

Alright, so maybe it was just like him, but still. That was what you were here for. You’d be able to tell him he’d gone a little over the line again.

“Trust me,” you told Foggy firmly, nodding your head. You even widened your stance and crossed your arms, determined to stand strong. “I’m on your side.”

“Thank you! We can teamwork this, ok? So he comes, you see it, you point out the obvious, we get him a can of spray paint or something. Literally, any other color as long as it’s dark. I’d take fucking dark blue at this point, I’d take grey, anything but that ridiculous—”

The sudden burst of warmth inside your chest was the only warning you had before you felt the rush of a breeze overhead.

Years ago you might have ducked, but you’d gotten used to it by now, and instead, you barely blinked as Matt’s acrobatic leap carried him over you. The second he'd passed you, he twisted in the air, the movement transitioning into a smooth roll as he hit the ground. The rise to his feet was just as smooth, just as clean, the finish progressing in one fluid motion as he spun to face you before standing still to await your judgement.

“Theatrics!” Foggy barked, poking Matt’s arm. “That’s cheating, and you know it.”

“She needs to get the full effect,” Matt said defensively as Foggy poked him again, and…

Oh, you thought, your eyes sweeping down.

It had been a while since you’d seen him in anything like his first Devil suit, but you remembered fondly the way all that tough leather and strange fabric had drawn your attention to his broad shoulders, the powerful thickness of his thighs, and the endless breadth of his chest. This new suit looked much like the last in shape and in form despite a few obvious and less obvious changes—and if anyone besides Matt would know, it’d be you, since you’d stripped him out of that old suit often enough. And goddamn if you weren’t being reminded once again that Matt Murdock was always a five-course meal no matter what he chose to wear.

Your five-course meal.

“You are literally the color of a highlighter, that’s the only effect she… hey. Hey! Look at me!”

You darted your eyes guiltily back over to Foggy, breathing a little more quickly. “Yup, looking at you. I am focused.”

“The yellow!” he said quickly, jabbing urgently at Matt’s mask. “Remember what we talked about. Ok? Stay strong.”

Matt hummed. “Have you been tampering with the witness, Foggy?”

“It’s called preparing the witness. I’m not about to let you pull your Devil mind tricks on her.”

Right.

The yellow.

You could look at him and think about just the yellow.

Matt fixed his attention once more on you when he sensed your gaze return. And ok, so the mask was different. The dark, opaque eye lenses of the mask seemed an almost liquid-black in the low light, endless pools of shadow that saw right through you, saw into you beneath skin and bone, fathomless eyes made all the more startling when set within the gleaming, burnished gold of the full helmet. Because it was gold, not yellow, but gold: rich, rough as if weather-beaten, and luxuriously, dangerously warm, and yes, maybe also abso-fucking-lutely reflective, it was true. It would draw attention, maybe too much. But it… it wasn’t as bad as you’d thought, was it? Somehow, it still managed to look dangerous, like something belonging to a wild, untamed thing that you just wanted so foolishly to touch—

No, no, you needed to focus.

Matt parted his lips the slightest bit, drawing the air in across his tongue on a slow inhale. He swallowed, once, as if savoring the taste. And then…

The corner of his mouth tilted up in a smirk.

“Stop it with the sniffing and tasting thing,” Foggy snapped. “Seriously, she’s not gonna fall for that.”

Matt let his head gradually tilt, his chin tucking down. You knew that look. It was the look of a predator, the motion confident and dripping with intent, with knowledge of what was around him. It was how he hunted, how he hunted you, and your heart skipped a beat on instinct, a reaction far beyond your control. He opened his mouth bit by bit, drawing your attention to his full lips, to the curl of his tongue as he shaped the word.

“Don’t you dare, Murdock!” Foggy bellowed.

“Sweetheart,” Matt purred, his smooth voice nothing but warm smoke and a low, throaty hunger.

“Shit,” you groaned as your knees went weak, your body flooding with heat. It was that voice, damn him: that rasping Devil voice you always swore you could feel drag along your skin like a physical thing, like torn strands of silk, like the burning brush of his mouth and the heat of a flame. When combined with that familiar silhouette and the smooth motions of his body, there was little hope of resisting. “Shit, shit, shit.”

“The color!” Foggy shouted, throwing his hand in front of Matt’s face as if it would break the spell Matt had cast on you just now, cast on you months ago, years ago. “It’s fucking yellow! Focus, woman!”

“I, um… it is… yellow.” You swallowed hard as Matt dragged his tongue across his lips, trailing his fingers smoothly along the billy clubs at his hip. In fact, the rhythm his fingertips took up looked more than familiar enough to have certain parts of your body clenching. “It’s… it is… yellow, and that might be… attention-grabbing. Which is… not a good thing.”

“I think she needs to see the back,” Matt said abruptly.

“Don’t even think about it!” Foggy thundered. “I’ll throw you off this goddamn roof, I don't give a shit about your training!”

“Sweetheart,” Matt crooned. “Would you like to see the back?”

“She would not!”

Fuck.

“...Yes,” you whispered because the only thing as good as Matt’s front was his back, and you’d never seen his ass look like anything less than a five-star masterpiece that belonged in art museums across the world. “Yes, Jesus, let me see.”

“No-ooo,” Foggy moaned, dropping his face into his hands in defeat as Matt pointedly began his gradual spin, showing off his outline with a smug grin. “Jesus, woman. You’re selling your soul for an ass?”

“But it’s his ass,” you mumbled because it was. Matt had the best goddamn ass you’d seen in your life, and that glorious roundness was now cradled deliciously in tight red leather. And maybe Foggy was right. The yellow pattern along the side of Matt’s thighs was a little obvious, but it also brought out just how much muscle was packed on those thighs of his.

You needed him to get over here.

“Does no one see how obvious the yellow is? Am I the only person—”

“D, come here and let me touch your ass,” you whispered.

“I’m absolutely shocked at how scandalous this trial has become.” Matt shook his head as he finished his spin, doing his best to sound at least mildly dismayed, his mouth the mouth of a poor chaste soul who had definitely not fucked you on a church rooftop last month. “And how would your husband feel about that? I see that ring.”

“You two are literally the worst. You cannot be flirting over the ketchup-and-mustard suit. You cannot.”

“Can and am. As for how my husband would feel, he’s given me a free pass for the Devil since Daredevil saves the city on a regular basis,” you said breathlessly as you fixated on the breadth of Matt’s chest. Yeah, you could get used to the yellow. It was a lot but he’d find a way to make it work. “He’s known about my crush on the Devil for ages. So come over here and let me grope the evidence before I rule in your favor.”

Matt let out a playful growl and ran at you, catching you around the waist and throwing you up over his shoulder with ease as you shrieked before bursting into laughter. Matt quickly spun, slapping you once on the ass and making you squirm as he grinned at Foggy and you pointedly began to run your hands curiously over the suit. “Sorry, counselor,” Matt sighed. “Sounds like the verdict’s been rendered in my favor. Better luck next time.”

“You only won because you cheated!” Foggy groaned as Matt sauntered backwards towards the rooftop door. Hopefully Foggy thought that stumble was because Matt had misstepped, and not because you had, in fact, begun to grope hungrily at Matt’s ass. He couldn’t blame you. It was right there. “This was not a fair trial, and I object!”

“Objection denied. No cheating needed,” Matt snorted. “You should have known better than to put my wife on the stand.”

“I’m a weak woman when it comes to my husband’s ass and chest, especially when paired with the Devil head tilt,” you agreed. “I have not hidden this. I acknowledge my flaws.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t know you were this weak,” Foggy scoffed, crossing his arms.

Matt spun, slapping your ass again as you shrugged at Foggy, somewhat difficult considering you were still lazily draped over Matt’s shoulder, but you did your best. It wasn’t like you minded, after all. You had a great view of Matt’s ass from here. “Sorry, Foggy. I’ll make it up to you, but I gotta side with D on this one. I rule in favor of these ass-ets.”

“Oh,” Matt sighed, as Foggy made a retching sound. “Now I’ll really have to punish you, because that was a crime.”

“How many more years will I get if I slap your ass right now as an additional crime?”

“A lifetime sentence, Mrs. Murdock. I’d advise you to think very carefully before acting.”

You pretended to think about it for all of about point-five seconds. “Done.”

Smack!

His chest rumbled against your legs as a heated shudder rolled up his body beneath you, a motion easy to track with you draped over his shoulder, with your gaze fixed firmly on the line of him. And you’d gotten him good. The texture was a little different than the last Devil suit, but you still got a nice, loud sound of it, even if nothing would compare to bare, unobstructed skin.

He tilted his head very, very carefully, his lips brushing against your side. “You’re going to pay for that one when I get you inside, sweetheart,” he murmured, so quietly you knew it was just for you.

You were counting on it.

Foggy rolled his eyes as Matt wrenched open the rooftop door, and you threw Foggy a salute. “Despite my utter betrayal, I want you to know I love you, can’t wait to see that movie tomorrow. Use the other door on your way out, we’ll be locking this one.”

“Mustard-lover!” he threw at you, as you dropped your head to blatantly watch Matt’s ass again, the door shutting behind you both.

The second you were inside, Matt set you down carefully. Then he turned and stepped into you, herding you back with the broad line of his body. You gave in happily, ceding ground as he prowled forward until your back hit the wall, a shiver of anticipation running through you.

This never got old.

Your breath caught when he dipped his head, tilting it as he listened to the sound of your body, his tongue darting against his lips as he tasted you on the air, and you swallowed down an eager moan. He swayed in closer then, tempting you, inching closer until his mouth hovered over yours. Only then did his arms rise so he could brace his hands on either side of you, caging you in. Just like that, you were trapped, the Devil looming over you in heated shades of red and gold, rich lust and glorious indulgence. “Mm, now, sweetheart, I have one very important question before we start.”

Fuck, there was that voice again, nice and low. You couldn’t resist reaching out to touch him again, sliding your hands boldly up from his waist to fan out across his chest. “Uh huh?”

“Suit on,” he purred, his lips feathering against yours with each sinful world, “or suit off?”

“Suit definitely on,” you hummed, sliding your arms around him to drag your nails down the line of his back. “Someone’s gotta break it in, right?”

He threw you a feral grin, then, the low huff of his laugh rolling rich across your skin. “Did I ever tell you I love you?”

“Every day, D. Every beautiful day.”

-x-

“Ok, but is it… how yellow is it, really?”

“I mean, you’re not mustard-colored like Foggy says. More gold. But let’s just say if you polish that helmet too much, you might cause a car accident. That shit is really reflective now that I think about it.”

“Hm. I may have to change that in the future.”

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