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lineffability · 9 months

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"apparently if we do a miracle together it all works a bit too well" listen LISTEN i think this is why. i think the magnitude and power of that miracle they did together is what alerted the metatron and why he has come to separate them by all means, because they have not realized yet quite how powerful they are together and what that could mean!! this is why, i think???? they used to do each other's miracles and temptations for each other, but never with, and that could change everythign and could get in the way of certain Ineffable Plans (that i don't think are necessarily God's, looking at you villain metatrash)

#good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley x aziraphale #aziracrow #ineffable spouses #gos2 #good omens season 2 #gos2 theories #my omens #i first thought the miracle was so strong bc gabriel's powers were somehow mixed up in it but #this is what crowley says in ep5 and #yeah it changed my mind #this is what i think now #they are a THREAT #to the ORDER OF THINGS #because of their LOVE

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radiance1 · 2 months

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Danny: Hey, I need you to be my boyfriend for a week.

Jason: What.

Danny: My parents are coming over and I've apparently accidentally talked about a partner more than once and only realized when they said they wanted to meet them.

Jason, currently still solidifying his power as a Crime Lord: Excuse me?

Danny: Let me get this out of the way, I do not consider you at all a person of romantical interest and a friend. But I need you to act as my partner for only a week until my parents go on their merry way over to my sister, okay?

Jason: Is there, quite literally, no one else to ask this?

Danny: You're my only friend who lives in Gotham, plus we share the same apartment.

Jason: That's almost sad.

Danny: You in?

Jason: Sure, why not.

===

Maddie: Danny, honey.

Danny: Yes mom?

Maddie: I don't mean to.... question, who you choose as your parent but. Well, me and your father was just wandering if he was a... [Maddie gestures with her hand] you know, one of those.

Danny, uncomprehendingly staring at his mother's hand: What.

Maddie: Oh dear, how do I bring this up. You know, one of those.

Danny: Mother I need more context.

Jack: If your boyfriend a crime lord!?

Maddie: Jack!

Jack: What? Beating around the bush wasn't helping!

Danny: Say WHAT?

===

Danny: Hey dude, thanks for helping with this even though you didn't need to!

Jason: No problem, I wasn't doing anything too [Crime Lord activities flash through his mind] important.

Danny: Can you believe my parents thought you were a crime lord though? Weird am I right?

Jason:

Danny: Jason. You are scaring me.

Jason: Haha, yea that's weird isn't it?

Danny: Jason.

Jason: Well, I have to leave now to attend to my totally real and totally not crime related job at the ice cream shop.

Danny: [Squints eyes]

Jason: [Internally sweating bullets]

Danny: Suuuuure, bring me back some ice cream though.

Jason: [Thumbs up and leaves]

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #dcxdp #dc x dp crossover #Danny isn't romantically interested in Jason in the least #Neither is Jason romantically interested in Danny #But he needed a partner and Jason was the only one available #Jason somehow managed to balance that and being a crime lord #Jack and Maddie instantly had the suspicion of him being Red Hood aka a crime lord aka a criminal aka a danger to their boy #Danny doesn't know at ALL though and so they hang that theory up because if Danny didn't know then he probably wasn't a crime lord #Jason's identity was almost blown because he pretended to be the boyfriend of his friend #Again Danny doesn't know shit about him being Red Hood he just thought dude was dedicated to his job plus its Gotham #Not that weird to come back with scraps and scratches

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dcxdpdabbles · 7 months

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I love every fic That has Danny still being Phantom even while in the DC universe but sometimes I just want my little guy to flex his intellect and be all around little mad scientist that only sometimes uses his powers to pick up a screwdriver

Danny is smart.

He knows he is brilliant.

He may have been outshined by his family when he was younger, but that was because his focus was on something else, and frankly, being born last into a family of geniuses made one feel like one wasn't as intelligent as them.

He constantly compared himself to them, knowing that they had already achieved what he was doing and falling further and further behind in his self-wellow.

Then Danny left Amity Park and went into the real world.....he found his intelligence got him far. Danny was exceptionally brilliant when he was working on machinery, chemistry, and, above all else, engineering.

Maybe it had something to do with watching his parents repurpose any household item into a completely new technology that affected beings from different dimensions simply because they used math.

Or maybe it was that his brain was always moving, always connecting, and constantly processing. Danny didn't realize that people couldn't just make whatever idea came into their heads a reality.

Hell, his dad heard about Mr. Freeze's ray and he made a copy in two months. Danny made Mr. Freeze's ray in two weeks. He made other ghost tech in that same amount or enough to arm his schoolmates in one afternoon.

The point is that Danny is good at what he does. Put a screwdriver in huis hand, and he be off until whatever hair brain idea he had a physical form.

Everyone in Amity Park knew this as a fact about the Fentons/ Since they moved in, there was nothing but experiments one right after the other. Sure, they wasted it on things like Ecto-studies, but his parents made their money from somewhere before the world learned about ghosts.

Danny's parents had many, and he means many, patents. Everything from a brand of microwaves to vehicle parts.

His parents created them, sold them to partial rights to companies, and then wasted whatever money they got on some new experiment for a ghost that had not yielded any fortunes.

He thought he could do the same. Just apply to anywhere that would take him after creating a portable phone changer on one's wrist. He figured it would have gotten less attention than he did hadn't he just shown up at Wayne Expo as an unknown inventor through his parents contacts.

Danny had felt relatively small with his foldable plastic table and his four cardboard boxes of his invention while everyone had booths and screens, and a few even had prominent speakers with people in suits that cost more than his house

. Danny felt like a little kid trying to sell lemonade in the five-star hotel lobby. Everyone walked right by him without a glance, or they jeered and mocked him.

That was until Bruce Wayne wandered over. Kind and charming the man, maybe he wasn't the brightest- but he stood there listening to Danny excitedly explain how moving the hand on the bracelet caused it to charge, so walking around with it was all the kinetic energy it needed.

His ward- Dick Grayson, in all his tiny ten-year-old authority, had purchased a bracelet from Danny. It had been the only sale he made that night, but it was the only one he needed. Bruce had called him to offer him a position at WE.

Like his parents, Danny enjoyed his freedom, so instead, he offered to be a freelance inventor. He would show the Wayne's first dibs but go where the wind took him. He made them if he found buyers who weren't trying to ice him out of profits.

Unlike his parents, he didn't waste the funds past his travels. Slowly but surely building up a fortune over time.

Danny still went out as Phantom, but over the years he invented random gadgets and chemicals that he would ship to Bruce for a healthy paycheck. Ussually he makes something that the rich man off-handedly comments on.

"Oh Danny, I just loved skydiving, but I'm scared Dick's parachute will get stuck."

Danny invented one with small rocket blasters Bruce could manually control into landing for his son.

"I always enjoy undersea diving. The tanks are a killer on my back. Jason was almost weighted down by them too."

Danny created a breathing mask that had the tanks in smaller easier-to-carry cylinders.

"Tim really loves his computers. Wish I could take the whole thing with me when I go out!"

Danny had a working computer on a heliographic wristwatch the next month.

It was awesome. Danny traveled a lot but always found time to call and speak with Bruce. He got to know the man well over the years, found himself chatting with him for hours, and even spent his visits to Gotham at Wayne Manor as a guest.

Bruce's kids were a riot to be around. He would often go away for a while only to return and find that they had grown in numbers. He loved them like his own and found himself a confidant among the children.

It was he that Dick called to whispers about his insecurity within Bruce's home. He would go to all the gymnastics and mathletes shows he could catch, cheering the loudest among the rich parents as Dick outshone the rest of the children.

Danny had practically flown home to rip Bruce a new one until the man admitted to his gapping son that he had applied to be his father mere months after taking him in.

It was Danny that Jason spoke to when Dick and Bruce's fights were too loud. He would take the boy on trips, and talk for hours about books to calm down, then he had sat Bruce and Dick down to rip another new one.

It was no surprise that Jason had called him when he had tried to run away to confront his birth mother. He had been there to see the bitch arrested before she could hurt Jason.

It was Danny that Tim often sought out to showcase his photos. He always made sure to call the boy right before he was meant to sleep, regardless of which part of the world Danny was on, to wish him goodnight and talk about their days.

Tim always brightened whenever Danny caught his skateboard competitions or club performances. He was the one who found out Tim's biological parents neglected him after the boy told him, and he was the one to help Bruce win custody.

Then came Damian, who was as scared as he was angry. Danny adored him and saw so many ghost-like mannerisms in him that connecting to the boy wasn't hard at all.

Bruce didn't seem to understand that his son was used to outlined expectations and grew irritable when he felt he failed them. He was the one that help Damian get used to his environment and was the one the boy was much more willing to try new things with.

Steph and Danny often got along well with their sense of humor, but mostly she followed him around, seeking approval that likely missed out from her parents. They would sit down and talk about her future and what she wanted in life, and he even let her practice her makeup on him and giggle about boys.

Sometimes, it felt like she didn't have to be the tough girl from the rough part of town. She could be a teenage girl without a care in the world. At least, that's what she claimed Danny made her feel like.

Cass didn't talk much, but she didn't have to for Danny to not see how much she enjoyed their days out, too.

He loved taking her to see the arts, to sit and listen to music together, and most of all, to see her slowly bloom into a sociable young lady so different from the closed-off girl that first arrived at Wayne Manor.

Duke was still relatively new, but Danny could spot the wild, unhinged look in his eye that would have made him a proper Fenton. The two often spent their time playing video games and working in the community together.

Duke seemed to enjoy when Danny invited him to tag along on short trips, especially when the two would go camping. As someone who grew up in the city, he had never been fishing until Danny taught him how to reel in a big one at a lake a state over. The whole Wayne family had cheered the dark skin boy on as he held the trout over his head for the photo.

Alfred treated him like one of the family sometimes meeting up with Danny on his travels for a cup of tea or a nice phone call to gossip about Bruce.

Danny loved it but adored when the Waynes would help with his inventions. Even if all they did was sit in his makeshift lab inside his RV or the west wing of Wayne Manor like Bruce did, having them made his hands fly faster and his calculations sharper.

Sometimes, he caught the strangest, softest look on Bruce's face when Danny would be wielding.

Danny was so used to this lifestyle that he would forget about his ghost powers. It's not like he really needed them.

That came to head when he returned to Gotham on a whim, wanting to surprise Bruce for his birthday by taking the other man out to dinner somewhere fancy he happened to stumble across the scene of Scarecrow holding the Waynes- his Waynes- as hostages at an award ceremony in the new mental hospital they had funded.

Danny hadn't thought.

He saw the Fear Gas vents open and pulled one of his gadgets. He threw it as hard as he could at Scarecrow, watching with satisfaction as it bounced off the manic's head- knocking him out and spinning in place as it activated.

It was a miniature vacuum- meant to gather pollution in the air to hopefully clean up their planet- sucking in all the green smoke before it could harm.

He three out of the other five at the goons that had tried to gas the spectators before, pressing his anti-gravity plates- reversing them to slam the goons into a heap and officially knocking them out.

Danny took down the Rouge in under a minute.

"Bruce! Kids! Are you alright?" He cried rushing the stage to the stunned family. He helped them out of their bonds, gentelly tracing the bruise on Bruce's face with a soft whine. "They hurt you."

"I'm alright, darling," Bruce muttered, leaning into his palm. "I'm better with you here. What was that?"

"Oh just a-"

"Look out!" Dick suddenly screams as a flash of ice comes from nowhere. Danny tucks Bruce onto his chest and rolls away from the ray's pathway. They land with his friend on his back and Danny leaning over him in a protective hunch.

Quickly, he stops his foot against the ice, pressing the heel back and watching bursts of electricity from his built-in tazer race up the ice to the beam of Dr. Freeze.

The man doesn't have time to react before spamming and hitting the ground. Danny scoffs. "Using a ray with a cryogenic laser beam so last season. Invent something new, you one act poney."

Bruce stares up at him with those soft eyes again, and Danny smiles now that he is sure the Danger is gone.

"Is there nothing that mind of yours can't do?" Bruce asks and Danny laughs helping him to his feet as police swarm the place.

"Find me a date, maybe." Danny jokes, "I haven't had one since you took in Dick.""

"Neither has Father!" Damian shouts from behind them. Danny bemussingly watches the young boy march up to gesture at the mortified-looking man.

Despite his father's obvious embarrassment, Damian does not seem bothered to shout for everyone to hear. "He may swing both ways but hasn't acquired a suitable spouse. What says you, Danny? You could assist in correcting this error."

"Sure, I'll take him out." Danny laughs, patting the boy on his shoulder, knowing he hates to have his hair touched. Damian all but melts into his hand like his father seemingly smug. "I know a great club to meet some great people in Metropolis!"

Damian's smug look fades away as Bruce's eyes fall. "I meant for you to be Father's sp-"

"Danny, would you mind explaining those tazer shoes?" Bruce cuts in, throwing a arm over the inventor's shoulder. "They were dazzling!"

"Oh, Bruce, I'm always happy to explain my creations!"

Damian pouts as the two walk away, acting like a married couple to the scattered spectators. If only his Father would just man up and tell Danny that he's practically been his second Father all these years, they need to officiate it.

Tim sighs, placing a hand like Danny did on his shoulder. "It's okay, Dami. This time, we will surely succeed in the Parent Trap plan. Maybe before Danny gets lost in the lab trying to invent a way to warp travel."

"Don't even joke, Tim," Jason says. "Danny would figure that out. He created the Zeta Beams to make it to my senior play. He'll figure out warping if we ask him to."

"Dad's the best," Steph laughs, and they all agree, determined more than ever to make Parent Trap happen.

Master Post Link

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #Freelance Inventor #Danny is so smart he casually revolutionizes tech #He's not aware of the Bats #He's still somehow their Dad #And Bruce is in love with him'#The bat kids are going to Parent Trap them #spirit halloween

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superbat-love · 2 months

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Barry: Hey Clark, we heard about your recent breakup. Really sorry to hear that, man.

Clark: [gloomily] Yeah...

Bruce: [stares out the window]

Arthur: You will meet someone better suited for you one day—your destined soulmate.

Clark: I hope so.

Bruce:

Hal: I mean, who wouldn't go for you? You're strong, smart and handsome!

Clark: Thanks Hal.

Barry: Yeah! I’m sure you'll meet someone who's just as kind and attentive and knows how to cheer you up whenever you're feeling down.

Clark: Mn.

Hal: Hey, there's this new bar that just opened up in downtown Metropolis! We should go and check it out this weekend! Whaddya say?

Arthur, Hal and Barry stare expectantly at Bruce.

Bruce: [slowly turns to look at Clark] I like the look of your bleeding heart.

Arthur, Hal & Barry: ???

Clark: [visibly cheers up] Thanks Bruce! You know, it took a few attempts to grow those flowers in outer space, but I finally got it right! They look slightly different from those cultivated on Earth, but I find them unique. I'm glad you like them too!

Arthur, Hal & Barry: It worked?!

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azulhood · 7 months

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Driver Danny.

Danny goes to Gotham (you can pick why) and he's strapped for cash.

So he tries everything to keep the flickering lights on and the leaky roof over his head.

Dishwashing, pizza delivering, grocery shop Manning, beverage making, tutoring.

He does everything.

Eventually he ends up doing less then legal stuff.

Keeping a look out while a store gets robbed (didn't really feel guilty for that one, the owner was an asshole) work at the iceberg lounge.

Somehow he ends up as a gettaway driver...

Danny, the son of Jack "what's a red light?" Fenton.

He becomes the most sort after driver in Gotham.

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dp x dc #dc x dp #Danny sees every building as a shortcut #even the bats can't keep up in a car chase #Batman has no idea who Danny is #somehow danny ends up working for Jason's gang #jason is not telling Bruce who he is

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bluerosefox · 19 days

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Family Resemblance

....

.....

....

I had another 11pm brain worm.

Enjoy

-x-x-

Daniel Wayne, the younger toddler brother of Bruce Wayne and the son of Martha and Thomas Wayne had been kidnapped the night their parents were murdered.

Daniel had been snagged the moment their killer heard people headed to the alley and Bruce in his state of shock didn't realize it until it was far to late and could only scream in horror (from everything) as his baby brother is crying his name. (If you wanna make it even more heart wrenching, make it Danny's first time being able to say Bruce's name right and/or Bruce had said some mean things to Danny earlier after he accidentally broke something of Bruce's, something like 'I wish youd go away' or 'I never wanted a brother, you're such a bother!')

Bruce is being held by Alfred as some police officers are chasing down the Wayne's parents killer while some stay behind to see if they could do something.

Minutes turn to hours and as they wait, praying the police at least found Danny, Bruce is ridden with guilt. From his parents death to allowing his brother to be kidnapped.

Eventually the police return to give Alfred and Bruce the news. And it's not good.

The killer escaped and Danny was nowhere to be found.

And it would take many years before he would be found.

-x-x-

Bruce gets a call from Damian during school hours one day. When he answers he is greeted with Damian demanding him to get to the school and explain himself.

Confused Bruce asks what does he mean and Damian responds with

"The two new students in class today are the spitting images of you and I father! Either they are poorly created clones or you have more hidden blood children!"

-x-x-

Meanwhile the very students being discussed are calling up someone too

"Ellie? Dan? What's wrong? You better not have made too much chaos already, I just paid for the uniforms for that place."

"DAD! I THINK ANOTHER ONE OF THE FRUITLOOPS FAILED CLONES SOMEHOW SURVIVED!"

"What?"

#danny phantom #danny fenton #crossover #dp x dc #blue rambles #danny phantom dc #writing ideas #random idea #dpxdc #bruce and danny are siblings #danny was a toddler when he was kidnapped #somehow someway he escaped or was dumped out of Gotham #due to how young Danny was and how traumatized he was about that night he forgot everything but his first name #no one really connected the dots that Danny was the missing Wayne child #mostly due to no public photographs of Danny #he had been born very early and no one was sure he was going to make it #and going to the theater had been his first time being finally allowed out of the manor #only for it to end in tragedy #years later though #Danny moves to Gotham with his kids #a deaged and raised from infanthood Danielle 'Ellie' Fenton and Dante 'Dan' Fenton #Damian was not ready to see them #he thinks theyre poorly made clones since one looks more like his father than him and the other is a girl #or more secret children his father didnt know about #Ellie and Dan think Damian is an escaped clone of Vlads #Bruce and Danny meet at the school and Bruce nearly has a heart attack at the young man who looks so much like his parents #Danny is a bit weirded out because Bruce looks very familiar somehow

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the-witchhunter · 9 months

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DP x DC: Wait... this isn’t a gay bar??

I was just thinking about Danny as a bartender at a rogues bar and then it struck me...

Danny thinks he works at a gay bar

Why? Well, have you looked at the clients? Bisexual queen Harley Quinn, lesbian icon Poison Ivy, Two Face is clearly bi(two)sexual and has a thing with Bruce Wayne, Scarecrow is probably ace or maybe aro, Riddler is at the very least homo romantic, hell, even if Red hood comes by he’s bi/pan AND poly

What I’m saying is, based off the clientele, Danny would think he works at a gay bar

and based on the evidence they have a hard time disagreeing with him

#dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc prompt #dp x dc #dp x dc crack #bartender danny #danny thinks he works in a gay bar #BECAUSE LET'S FACE IT #half the regular batman rogues are pretty fruity #and so are the Bats frankly #haha 'Fruit Bats'#Dick is probably bi but I like to imagine him as somehow the only straight person in the Batfamily because I find it hilarious

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onismdaydream · 2 months

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tw: aged up character. daddy kink. slight breeding kink.

yuji loves fucking you. genuinely believes there's no place better than buried in your tight pussy, legs wrapped around his waist as you urge him to go even deeper. each cry and moan from your lips is music to his ears and all he wants to do is hear more and more. the taste of your sweat on your skin, tongue lapping at your neck, makes his hips rut faster against you, pace becoming desperate.

it's a beautiful and graceful dance between you two, well practiced and now perfected as you find yourself underneath him once again. your bodies always meld together in a way that make both of you drunk off ecstacy.

but something new slipped from your lips — something that made yuji's thrusts stutter.

"please, daddy!"

the simple word made yuji's thick cock twitch inside you, a deep groan rumbling in his chest as his eyes fall shut.

"a-again..." he says quietly, gaze catching yours after a moment, the intense heat of you wrapped around his length making him feel dizzy. "say it again."

his pupils are blown out, lips parted as his breath mingles with your own, pleading.

"daddy."

"again." you gasp as yuji thrusts into you, picking up a brutal pace. the sound of skin smacking against skin fills the room, wet plap plap plap of your pussy being filled.

"daddy, please," you whine, nails scratching at his back, leaving angry red lines along his tanned skin. "need it so bad, daddy."

yuji growls, like something deep and primal was uncovered — buried and forgotten being found once again. he fucks you desperately, cock repeatedly knocking against your cervix until you can't focus on anything else. until your mind is yuji, yuji, yuji.

"fuck, i'm gonna cum, gonna make me cum too soon." his lips press against your skin, kissing along your neck and jaw as he babbles, far too addicted to the squeeze of your pussy. "don't wanna pull out, baby. gonna cum inside, okay?"

you nod your head, limbs pulling him closer and closer as you both reach your climaxes.

"yeahhh, good girl. daddy's got you, gonna fill you up so good."

#idk what this is IM SORRY!!!#random thought that kept on developing somehow.. idk if i like it or not..#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #yuji itadori #yuji itadori x reader #yuji itadori x you #perce.doc #.jjkai

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anti-the-glitch-bitch · 2 months

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Danny: helping Alfred cook breakfast for everyone because he feels bad, he eats so much more than everyone else.

Alfred: so happy that there is yet another person wanting to learn to cook and is actually good at it.

Dick: walks in and sees Danny getting to cook with Alfred and is immensely jealous because he is hardcore banned from cooking after the Thanksgiving disaster from 15 years ago.

Danny: makes eye contact with Dick.

Dick:..........

Danny:.........

Dick:........

Dick: Goes running to Tim to tattle on Alfred and Danny

#dp x dc crossover #dc x dp #tim drake wayne x danny phantom #dick tried to make an apple pie from scratch and it caught fire but somehow the flames were blue

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radiance1 · 3 months

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Damian: Father is upset with me, but I also do not wish to run away as that would cause him to look for me and most likely get even more upset.

Damian: [Looks at phone intensely]

Danny: Hello? Who is this?

Damian: My brother in arms, I request your aid.

Danny: Say less dude, I'll be right on over there.

Danny then replaces Damian while Damian heads out on some type of adventure to find inner peace or something.

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #dcxdp #dc x dp crossover #Danny and Damian aren't biologically related here #So #Yea #In case you somehow got that idea

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ew-selfish-art · 6 months

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Dpx Dc AU: Ectoplasm is required for Ghosts to be visible to the human eye- And Danny creates his own ectoplasm.

Danny is visiting Jazz in Gotham and its weird how friendly everyone is. Like, the city gets a really bad rapport, everywhere he goes there is someone trying to strike up a conversation or answer his questions about getting around to the tourist spots. A few people even pointed out restaurants and ways to find off the beaten path gems! Jazz seems to role her eyes at him, but when he brings up her 'roommate' being kind of cute she flat out laughs.

Danny then comes to understand the Jazz doesn't have a roommate and that Ghosts in Gotham don't move far from their haunts- He's just been inadvertently turning these undead folks visible by accident of generating abnormal amounts of ectoplasm.

Which, is comforting in a way, he's never walking this dangerous city alone and really, most of the ghosts have been really friendly! They disappear once he's a few blocks away from them anyway.

---

Tim Drake is having a horrible day.

He'd been given intel that one of Black Mask's guys was going to snitch but that he'd died before given the opportunity to reach out to the GCPD. He tracks down the guy's last know whereabouts and yikes. Its next to the Theater. Tim was often grateful for his childhood obsessions, this time it backfired.

Tim and Bruce get into an argument about trust and respect and, worst of all, mental health. And even though Tim was vehemently against Batman accompanying Red Robin to the alleyway - that's exactly what happens.

They arrive and Bruce is closing up faster than a clam in the contaminated Gotham Bay- Clearly being in the Alley bothers him. No fucking shit. RR gets started on collecting evidence, there are a few extra blood splatters and a single left shoe... When a kid walks into the Alley.

"Uh, sorry to intrude-" The kid looks scared shitless, and runs away. And then, all of a sudden, Batman and Robin aren't alone in the Alley.

Tim can hardly believe his eyes as the dead man appears and quickly blabs Black Mask's bank passwords and what the plan had been- and While he's over joyed to have that closure, he turns around to Batman weeping in the arms of his parents.

The ghosts fade, and the emotions are certainly charged as this was never something Bruce or Tim would have ever dreamed of happening. Ghosts in Gotham. Talking, floating, granting closure.

"RR, Bats, come in." Oracle calls into their ears.

"Reporting in, but, uh, we need a minute."

"A minute? We have a case on 4th and-"

"O, we just saw the ghosts of the Waynes. It's going to be a minute."

"...Lots of Ghost reports lately then. Any chance you saw a kid looking like he could be adopted?"

"Yeah, actually, black hair and blue eyes. He was super polite before he ran away."

"We have work to do. Oracle, lets prioritize finding our person of interest and divert Nightwing and Robin to the case on 4th." Batman cut between them on the comms and he sounded... calmer than either of them anticipated.

---

Jazz is no longer laughing when Batman appears at her door explaining that he's looking for Danny (Who already flew away from town to get a good night's sleep before class on Monday). Turns out Danny reunited the man with his dead parents just briefly- and then the second guy appears and mentions how Danny had also given a guy who'd been murdered by a Mob enough time to explain the ongoing threats the city faced.

Jazz just rolls her eyes and says that it's not like the ghosts are going anywhere anytime soon and Danny will visit in another month. When pressed, she just explains that her brother is a weirdo. No of course he doesn't have powers. Gaslight and Girlbosses her way out.

And Jazz thinks that the game is up for at least another month, obviously when Danny visits more shit will stir up, but then this new guy appears.

Unlike the other Bats who are keen on watching her from a distance, the Red Hood knocks on her door. Are her eyebrows all the way into her hairline when Red Hood asks her to send his thanks along to Danny because somehow this whole situation led to his Dad expressing remorse for his actions and apologizing? Yes, yes they are.

But Jazz can smell Dissertation Data off of these vigilantes- Who is she to send them away? Jazz welcomes Red Hood into her place for a cup of tea and a small chat.

The story then devolves into Jazz getting shit done, Danny being cute by proximity and also bringing ghosts to the party, and the Bats having trauma resolve between them.

#dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc #danny phantom #dc crossover #dp crossover #long post #danny can make ghosts appear like they do in amity but only for a short while and when in proximity to him #its not apparent in amity because the ghosts are just like that there #Danny just having a good time #Danny having zero brain cells about this whole thing and neither he nor jazz will offer explanations #they're just like 'gotham has ghosts. its not like he put them there'#Bruce getting into therapy because his dead parents said they were proud of him and he didnt know how to handle that #bruce having to turn this energy around somehow and seeing jason - my boy i love you so much and im so sorry and im so proud of you #heres the thing i dont know how i made it anger management ship at the end but i sure as fuck did.#jason is at a lack of words at bruce's confessions of pride and love but is also about to be a BAT about this and track down info #info in the form of a cute girl #oh yeah she has a brother #uh well #he has brothers too- this is fine #someone write this fic pls n thx u

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scuderiahoney · 4 months

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In From The Rain

Oscar Piastri x plant nerd!reader

Masterlist

Summary: Oscar’s looking for an easy to care for houseplant. You have just the solution. Check out the moodboard here!

Word Count: 7.1k

Warnings: none

The greenhouse is quiet in the early morning. It’s one of your favorite things. Before the customers come in, looking for flowers for their porch or vegetable plants for their gardens, it’s just you and the plants and the sun streaming in through the glass. So when somebody interrupts your morning solitude, you’re not exactly happy about it.

Sure, you’re technically open, but nobody ever gets here this early. You’re watering plants in your rain boots, a mug of coffee in your hand, when the front door swings open. You turn to look, the noise startling you.

The man who walks in looks sheepish when his eyes meet yours. He ducks under a hanging basket, nearly trips over your garden hose. His cheeks flush red. You’d be more irritated with his presence if he wasn’t being so cute about it.

“Sorry, the- the sign said open,” he says, backing towards the door.

“You’re fine. We are open,” you affirm, flicking off the sprayer before you drown the petunias in front of you. “I was just surprised to see someone in here so early.”

He laughs. It’s a nice sound. Almost as nice a sound as his voice, with an Australian accent. He stops backing away. You should probably point out that he’s standing in a puddle, but you’re not sure if that’s really your place.

“Can I help you find something?” You ask.

He takes a step forward. A thick band of sunlight shines down on the top of his head, like a halo. He brushes his floppy hair from his face.

“No, that’s okay. You’re busy, I’ll just have a look around,” he says.

You nod. “Let me know if you have any questions.”

You turn back to the flower trays in front of you. They’ll need pruning, soon. And some of the hanging baskets are getting a bit unruly- it’ll likely be time to put them on sale in the next few days, to open up space for new plants. You can hear the man walking around behind you, peering at the plants. His footsteps are hesitant, and when you look, he has his hands held behind his back. He leans close to read the signs, brows tightly wound.

He obviously has no idea what he’s looking for.

You put the hose away and set your nearly empty coffee down at your workstation in the back of the greenhouse. Then you make your way back up to the front, where he’s standing near the succulents.

“Sure you don’t want help?” You ask.

He looks up with a sheepish grin. “Is it that obvious that I’ve got no idea what I’m doing?”

“A bit,” you say, and he laughs again. “That’s okay, though. It’s what I’m here for. What are you looking for?”

He stands up straight, eyes dancing over the greenhouse. “So. I’ve been told my apartment is boring. A friend suggested a plant to liven up the space.”

You nod. A tale as old as time. He’ll either kill the plant within a week or fill his whole place with them.

“But I’m gone a lot for work,” he says. “Like, a lot. So I need something that won’t wilt the second I’m gone, you know?”

You nod. “Does your apartment get good light?”

He laughs. “I don’t know what good light means.”

“Which direction do your windows face?”

“South,” he says, confidently. “Google said that was good. Right?”

You fight a laugh. He’s a bit adorable. Trying very hard to get it right. Like this is a test with right and wrong answers.

“Yeah, south facing is great.” You gesture towards the succulents. “You could get a succulent. They can go weeks without watering, but they need lots of light.”

He nods in understanding and purses his lips. “I thought these were cactuses. Or cacti?”

“Close,” you tell him, and he smiles again. “Cacti are the ones with the spikes.”

He nods in understanding. He crouches down, then, eye levels with the little plants. Your heart is melting. You scuff one of your rain boots against the ground. You could stand here and watch the way his long eyelashes flutter as he blinks all day, but that would be creepy and you have a job you’re supposed to be doing.

“How do I know which one to get?” He says, quietly. “Like… there are so many different kinds.”

Your face breaks out into a huge grin. He’s so endearing. “I think you’ll know when you see it.”

He appears at the front cash register ten minutes later, a succulent in hand. It’s a little one, the perfect starter plant. He’s eyeing the decorative pots next to you, brows furrowed again.

“Those are too big for that plant,” you tell him, and he breathes out a sigh. “There are smaller ones on the other side of the display.”

He moves to look. You hear him shuffling, hear him pick up pots and then set them down. Then he appears again, a little pot with black and white checkerboard print on it in his other hand.

“Perfect,” you say softly. “Have you got potting soil?”

He clears his throat. “Um. No, but I’ve got a courtyard at my apartment with a garden… but I’m sensing from the look on your face that that won’t do.”

You roll your eyes playfully. Then you reach under the counter and grab one of the small sample bags of potting soil you keep on hand.

“Here. On the house.” You say. “So you can put that plant in the pot.”

“Wow. Thanks,” he says. He sets the other items down on the counter. “Thanks for all your help, actually.”

“Just doing my job,” you say with a shrug.

You bag the items carefully, making sure the plant won’t be squished. You put a care instruction sheet in the bag, too. Then you slide it to him with a smile.

“There’s a care sheet in there that should help. Enjoy your new plant,” you say. “I hope it works out.”

“Me too,” he says.

He leaves, then, and you’re left with your quiet greenhouse once again. It’s odd. Usually you breathe a sigh of relief after a customer leaves. But this time, you almost want him to come back.

…..

Two weeks later, you’re back at your workstation re-potting a sad looking philodendron. You look up from it when you hear the bell over the front door ring. The watering is already done, the hose put away, so there’s nothing for the man to trip over this time. But it is the same guy, and he ducks under the hanging basket the same way. You should maybe move it, but he seems to be the only one who’s had an issue with it. You stand up, wiping the dirt from your hands on your apron.

“You didn’t kill that succulent already, did you?” You call out.

His eyes dart to meet yours, and he laughs. “No! Promise.”

“Good. That would be a new record,” you laugh.

You let him wander the store on his own for a few minutes as you get the philodendron correctly in the new pot. Then you give it some water and take it with you to set it back out on the shelf. He’s still the only other person in the store, and he’s currently eyeing the flats of flowering plants.

“It’s actually going really well,” he says as you walk by. “He has a new leaf.”

That’s when you know the guy is hooked. He has a new leaf. The plant is no longer just a plant to him. Absent-mindedly, you wonder if he’s the type to name his plants. You set the one in your hands down on the table in front of you, your back to him so he doesn’t see your wide grin. When you turn around, you tone it down.

“That’s great,” you say encouragingly. “So I’m guessing you want another one?”

He nods, rubbing his finger over the leaf of a fiddle leaf fig. “Yeah, but I’m thinking something different this time. Something bigger.”

“You don’t want that one,” you say, and he backs away from the fig tree slightly. “Fiddle leafs are notoriously dramatic. If you left her for a week she’d drop all her leaves.”

He sighs and stands up. “What would you suggest?”

You wave him over to another area of the store. He follows eagerly, footsteps splashing in the leftover puddles from the morning watering. You lead him to a section of spiky, tall plants.

“Snake plant,” you say, pointing at them.

He’s standing next to you, and your shoulders just barely brush. A shiver runs down your spine. You try to hide it.

“Snake plant,” he repeats. “The name makes sense.”

“People also call them mother in law’s tongue,” you add. You fight the urge to check his ring finger. “But if you’ve got a mother in law I’d suggest avoiding that name.”

He laughs, and his shoulder bumps into your again. “I don’t. But snake plant sounds cooler.”

You nod in agreement. “They do well with very little water. And, they can do okay in pretty low light, too. So if you’ve got a darker area that needs a plant, it would be a good fit.”

He’s up at the register ten minutes later, plant and a pot in hand. This one is plain terracotta. You like that he’s the type of person to buy the pots, too. Some people just leave them in the boring plastic, and it makes you sad to think about. All plants deserve a nice home. You say that to him as you ring him up, and he laughs. He’s also grabbed a small bag of potting soil this time.

Your repeat the process, same as last time, and hand him the bag. He takes it, and then he hesitates.

“Thanks again,” he says, juggling the bag until it’s held in one arm. He sticks his hand out to you. “I’m Oscar, by the way.”

You tell him your name, though you’re sure he could read it off your nametag, too. When you shake his hand, you swear the warmth of it runs all the way up your arm. He thanks you again, and then he disappears out the door once again. That ache is back in your chest. You find yourself hoping he’ll be back soon.

…..

He does come back. Multiple times. He buys more succulents on one trip, asking you to help him choose between them, and then he ends up buying all three instead. Another morning he comes in and you show him a ZZ plant you’ve just gotten in that you think will be perfect for him- you don’t tell him you’ve been saving it for him at your work station. It’s just… you know it’ll look great next to the snake plant he bought.

Each time he comes to the store, he hangs around a little longer. You chat about the weather, about the plants in the store, about his plants at home. You tell him funny stories about other customers and complain to him about the rude ones. In return, he tells you about his coworkers, specifically one named Lando who he seems to get into a lot of mischief with. He hasn’t said what he does for work. You field weird about asking, so you don’t.

The 4th time he stops by, you suggest a pothos. He eyed the leaves and vines skeptically.

“The other ones looked tough, you know? Like they’d survive even if I fucked up.” He tugs at one of the vines. “Are you sure about this one?”

You nod encouragingly. “You can handle it. I promise. Plus, the cool thing about these is you can cut parts of the vines, like this,” you say, holding up one you’d taken from the workstation. “And then you stick it in water for a bit, it grows roots, and you’ve got a whole new plant.”

He raises his eyebrows. “That’s cool.”

“I know,” you laugh.

He joins you up at the front to buy the plant. You go through the same routine. This time, he’s picked out a pretty blue ceramic pot for it. It compliments the leaves well. Then he leans on the counter and the two of you start chatting. You’d had a shipment that came in last week with a bunch of dead plants, so you regale him with the story of trying to deal with the company’s customer service. In turn, he tells you a story about his family back home- one of his sisters had a dance recital, his mother tried to videotape it for him, he received a video of his mother’s face as she watched the recital. You don’t realize how long the two of you have been talking until Jane, the next person on the schedule, walks in.

You stand up straight, face growing hot suddenly. “Hi, Jane!”

“Hi, hun,” she says, walking past the two of you. “Sorry I’m late. Bet you’re dying for your lunch break.”

She’s late? You and Oscar must’ve been talking for… forever. It had felt like only minutes. He smiles sheepishly and pushes away from the counter.

“Well, I should be going,” he says, taking the bag in his arms. “Thanks again!”

You watch him walk out the front door, unsure why it feels like you’ve been caught. It reminds you of the feeling you’d gotten years ago, when your teacher found you and the boy you had a crush on in the hallway alone. You hadn’t been doing anything wrong, but it still makes you feel strange.

“Friend of yours?” Jane asks when you walk past her to take your break.

You blink, shrugging. “I think he might be.”

…..

Oscar always comes in on Tuesdays. You avoid taking Tuesdays off and won’t admit to yourself that he’s the reason why. But when you wake up with a raging fever and a pounding head, you know you have to call in. Jane, always a sweetheart, takes your shift. When you see her two days later, it’s after you’ve already done the opening shift.

“Did you see your plant?” She asks as she breezes through the greenhouse.

You shut off the hose you’d been using to water a particularly thirsty chrysanthemum. “What plant?”

“The one your friend brought,” she says, and you only feel more confused. “He dropped it off Tuesday, said he was looking for you. It’s on the desk.”

You walk over to the workstation. Sure enough, in a tiny plastic pot- likely one from one of the succulents he’d bought-there’s a small pothos vine growing. You pick up the little plant, knocking over the piece of paper propped up on it in the process. You reach for it, finding a note written in rushed, messy scrawl.

I know you’ve probably got tons, but it felt right that you would have my very first propagation. Learned that word from the internet. Feel better soon! -Oscar

You turn to look at Jane. She’s at the register, not paying you any attention. You cradle the tiny plant close to your chest and do the same with the note. Then you tuck the paper away for safekeeping.

The plant, however, you carry with you all day. You place it in a sunbeam at the front register. When it catches your eye every so often, you feel a warmth in your chest.

…..

The next time Oscar comes in, he eyes the little plant at the register. You’ve stuck a little stake in it and tied a bow on top. He smiles softly and turns back to the display of pots. He chooses a tiny one with checkerboard print, the same as his very first purchase. You ring him up for all his items, but when you go to put that one in the bag, he grabs it and shakes his head. He slides it towards your tiny vine.

“For your plant,” he says, smiling softly.

You break into a face splitting grin. “You’re too sweet.”

His fingers brush against yours when you take it from him. You swear you feel sparks. You wonder if the red cheeks he sports as he leaves the store means he felt it, too.

…..

Another man comes into the shop early in the morning. It’s a Wednesday this time. You know it won’t be Oscar because of that, but you still look up eagerly. The guy nods, waving politely. You smile and go back to your watering. He walks the aisles, looking at the plants and never picking them up.

“Excuse me?” He says, after you’ve put the hose away. You turn, trying to hide your surprise at his American accent. “Um. Could you tell me where the succulents are?”

You grin and nod, walking over towards the area. You point them out.

“These right here,” you say. “Anything I can help you with?”

He stares at the tiny plants. “I have no idea what I’m doing. My friend, he’s gotten really into plants, and he talks about this shop all the time. Figured I’d see what the hype was all about.”

You tilt your head. He’s probably not, but it almost sounds like he’s talking about Oscar. You try and shake the idea from your head. Oscar is just a customer, he’s not going around and telling his friends about the greenhouse he goes to. He’s definitely not telling them about you.

“Succulents are a good place to start,” you say.

He sighs. “I don’t have much of a green thumb. I don’t think I’ll be very good at this.”

“Well, it’s worth a try.” You say with a shrug. “You might surprise yourself.”

He ends up picking out a little succulent. He doesn’t go for a decorative pot. He seems wholly unconfident in his ability to keep it alive for more than a few days. Still, he smiles as he’s leaving. He pauses in the doorway.

“You know, I thought Oscar was exaggerating when he told me about you,” he says. “But I get it now.”

He’s out the door before you can even form a syllable, let alone a word or a sentence. You think about chasing after him and asking what the hell that even means, but you stay rooted there. Oscar talks about you. To his friends. You swear your heartbeat doesn’t slow all morning, and the heat in your cheeks stays there all day.

…..

Oscar comes rushing into the shop the next Tuesday. He has a brown paper bag in his arms, and his eyes are wide. He’s breathing heavily, like he’s been running. You stand up, setting the garden hose down. He nearly slips on a puddle as he rushes over to you, and you reach out to steady him.

“I just got home last night,” he rushes, “and something’s wrong with- with Greg.”

“Greg?” You ask, leaning to peer into the bag.

“My succulent,” he says. His cheeks have gone red. “I name my plants. Is that weird?”

You laugh. “No, it’s not.”

You don’t tell him you’ve named your tiny pothos vine after him. You take the bag from his arms and walk to the back of the store, towards the work station. You reach in and pull out the succulent. It’s a little withered, a bit droopy. It’s also doubled in size since he bought it.

“I’ve been watering him when the soil gets dry,” he says, “and he’s still getting sunlight. I’ve tried everything- I left music playing for them when I left, so-“

Your eyes flicker up to him. He plays music for his plants. He’s the cutest man you’ve ever met. You want to take his face in your hands and kiss his forehead. Or his lips. He has these cute little freckles and moles- you’d like to draw constellations between them. Your face feels hot again. You direct your attention back to the plant as he rambles on. You frown, tugging slightly to see the roots.

“Osc, babe,” you interrupt, and he stops and stares at you. “He’s just a little root bound.”

You don’t dwell on the fact that you’ve just called him babe. It’s too late now.

“What’s that mean?” He asks, the panicky tone still in his voice.

“It means,” you start, nudging his side softly with your elbow, “that you’ve taken such good care of him that he’s outgrown this pot. He needs more soil. More room to spread out.”

His shoulders drop. The panic melts off his face. “Oh.”

You laugh. “God, I can’t believe when you came in here the first time you had no idea what a succulent even was. And now here you are, all panicked over a little wilting. You’ve become a true plant nerd, haven’t you?”

He shrugs sheepishly. “Maybe.”

“It’s cute,” you tell him, just to watch the blush creep up on his cheeks again. “Come on, let’s get him a new pot and some fresh soil.”

You lead him up to the front. He starts to pick through the display, holding the succulent up to the different options until he finds the right one. It’s a light orange.

You nod in approval. “Now you’ve got an empty pot,” you say, pointing at the original pot for the succulent. “Which means if you want, you have an excuse to buy another plant.”

“You’re so smart,” he says, eyes wide.

He rushes over to the display of succulents. While he’s picking one out, you carefully re-pot the plant into its new home. He takes his time, like always, indecisive to the very end. When he makes it up to the counter, he grins widely at the sight of the plant in its new pot.

“Thanks,” he says, softly. “Don’t know what I’d do without you.”

…..

When Oscar comes into the shop on a particularly rainy Tuesday, you’re trying hastily to hide your tears. He doesn’t come in every week, but it’s just your luck that he’s here today of all days. You wave and turn your back to him, sticking to the workstation. You hear the soft fall of his tennis shoes, though, even over the sound of the rain against the greenhouse roof, and you know he’s making his way towards you.

“Everything okay?” He asks, voice low.

You turn and find him with his hands in his jeans pockets. You wipe at your cheeks hastily, hoping he can’t tell how upset you are, but knowing you look a wreck. Your hair is soaked in rainwater, and your eyes likely red rimmed and puffy. It’s confirmed when his soft smile drops into a frown.

“I’ve had a shit morning,” you tell him with a sigh.

He pulls one hand from his pocket. “You, uh. You have dirt on your cheek.”

You groan and try to brush it away. Oscar chews on his lower lip. Then he reaches out, his fingertips sweeping against the skin of your face. His hand is warm, despite the chill in the air. Tiny sparks seem to spread across your skin, following the trail of his touch. Your face grows hot.

“There,” he says.

“Thanks,” you reply.

He nods. “What’s going on? If you don’t want to tell me, you don’t have to, but…”

You sigh and turn away slightly, back to the plant in the pot in front of you. His gaze is so warm that you can’t stand to look at him, afraid you might start crying all over again.

“Just. Woke up late, so I was in a rush. And then I locked my car key in the car because I forgot something in the flat, and my mum has the spare key and she’s not even awake yet, so I had to walk here in the rain. And I couldn’t find my umbrella.” You brush a wet piece of hair away from your forehead. “And I slept like shit, and haven’t had any caffeine because I was late. So, yeah.”

“Shit morning,” Oscar agrees.

You nod. You finally turn to look at him again. There’s a soft look on his face, one you can’t quite place. He reaches out, places his hand flat on the counter next to yours. If you shifted your thumb just slightly, you could touch his. You want to, but you don’t.

“Sorry, I- Can I help you find anything?” You ask, blinking at him.

“You don’t need to be sorry, I asked,” he says. He rocks back on his heels and pulls his hand back. “I actually just remembered, I’m- I have to- I’ll be right back.”

He turns around and walks quickly to the front of the store. The bell dings as he walks out through the front door. You stare at the spot where his hand had been for just a moment and feel your heart shatter in your chest. You’d gone and over shared with your favorite customer, the one you thought might actually be your friend, and now you’ve scared him off. Yet another tally to add to the shit morning. You collapse into the chair behind the counter and rest your head in your hands, trying to will the tears away.

You’re not sure how long goes by before you hear the bell over the door again. And really, nobody comes in this early, so why are they choosing today of all days? You hastily wipe your face on the sleeve of your sweatshirt and stand up, plastering a smile onto your lips to greet whoever is in the store.

Your heart stutters in your chest. It’s… Oscar. He’s walking towards you, though he’s not looking at you. He has three takeout coffee cups balanced precariously in his hands. His hair matches yours now, soaking wet and hanging over his forehead. You burst into laughter as he sets them down.

“Oh my god, I thought I scared you off,” you say, brushing a stray tear from the corner of your eye.

“No,” he says, eyes wide. “You said you needed caffeine. There’s a coffee shop just down the road.”

You laugh and press your hands to the counter, leaning towards the cups. “Three cups?”

He smiled sheepishly. “I got you coffee, but I didn’t know if you wanted cream or sugar. So,” he points at the smallest of the three cups, “this is cream,” he says while digging in his pockets. Then he places an assortment of sugar packets on the counter. “And here’s sugar. The other cup is mine.”

You grin at him, shaking your head. “I knew you were my favorite customer for a reason.”

The smile he gives you in return is bright enough to make up for the lack of sun, to wash away the rain clouds, to warm your cold hands. You open the lid to the coffee and pour a bit of cream in, and then add two sugars. Oscar watches, nodding.

“I’ll know for next time,” he says.

Your heart flutters in your chest. Next time. You like the sound of that. You wrap your hands around the paper cup and let the warmth seep into your fingers before you take a sip. You sigh happily, meeting his eyes over the lid. The cup in his hand has something written on it in messy pen. You wonder if the barista tried to give him their number, and you fight back the jealous feeling at the thought.

“Thank you,” you say, softly.

“It’s no biggie,” he insists. “I owed you anyway, for saving Greg.”

He hangs out for a while that morning, leaning on your counter and chatting. You re-pot some plants and then bring them out to the displays, and he follows along. There’s something about his presence alone that warms you up from the inside out. By the time he looks at his watch and curses, muttering about having a meeting, you’re feeling much better. His hand brushes your shoulder before he leaves. You call after him to thank him again for the coffee.

He stops in the doorway, rain falling on his arm that’s extended to hold the door open. “I’ll see you soon!”

Then he disappears into the storm.

…..

You don’t see him soon. It’s not abnormal for Oscar to go a couple weeks without stopping in, so at first you don’t think much of it. Each Tuesday, though, you look up eagerly when the bell over the door rings, and your heart sinks when it’s not him. Maybe you really did over share, maybe he did get scared off. You try not to think about it.

It’s just… he was cute, and kind, and fun to talk to. He brought you coffee. You wonder how his plants are doing, if he’s still playing music for them while he’s gone. You have fleeting images in your brain of him watering the plants, taking the time to look for new leaves and check the roots. You almost wish he’d have another plant emergency, just to give him a reason to stop back in.

Eventually, after a month goes by and he hasn’t been back, you give up almost entirely. You’ll move on eventually, find a new favorite customer. You couldn’t have expected him to keep coming around forever, after all. To him, you were just another retail worker.

You do end up seeing his American friend one more time. He comes in on a Wednesday morning, just like before. He doesn’t stop and look at any of the plants, instead beelining for you. You’re working on bagging some potting soil and watch him with wide eyes.

“Hi,” you say. “Can I help you find something?”

“No, I just-“ he cuts himself off, shaking his head. “I super killed that succulent.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “You’re Oscar’s friend, right? He didn’t help you?”

The guy shakes his head. “He made fun of me, though. Said I overwatered it.”

“How is he, anyways?” You ask.

Logan frowns. “He’s good.”

You nod. “Well, d’you want to try again?”

“No, that’s not why I-“ he sighs, rubbing his temples. “He won’t shut up about you, you know.”

You cross your arms over your chest. “Find that hard to believe, since he hasn’t been here for almost a month.”

Which is maybe a little mean spirited. And probably not something you should be saying to his friend. You wince.

Now it’s his turn to blink wildly. “So you miss him too?”

You squint at him. “Why are we having this conversation? I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s Logan,” he says. “You haven’t like… reached out to him or anything?”

“How would I?” You ask. “I don’t even know his last name, let alone his phone number.”

“His last name’s Piastri.”

“That feels like information you shouldn’t be giving away to strangers.”

He’s not listening, though. Something seems to have clicked in his head. His eyes go wide and he starts to back away.

“I have to go,” he says. “Thanks!”

You’ve had a lot of strange interactions while working retail, but that one comes in pretty high on the list. And it leaves you wondering about Oscar, which is something you’re trying desperately not to do. All in all, not a great day.

…..

Two weeks later, you clock out of your Tuesday shift around lunchtime and head down the street. It’s raining again, but at least this time you’re armed with a raincoat and an umbrella. Your car is parked nearby, but you’re in the mood for coffee and warm food, so you head to the cafe nearby. You try not to think about the time Oscar had brought you coffee from there. You can’t help picturing his soft smile, eyes trained on the cups balanced precariously in his hands.

You make it halfway to the cafe before a gust of wind hits your umbrella at just the right angle and snaps the metal supports. Then, as if the universe is playing a cruel trick on you, a car speeds by on the road next to you, hits a puddle, and sprays you with muddy water. It soaks through your clothes and onto your skin nearly immediately. You fight the urge to ball your hands into fists and yell dramatically at the sky.

“Shit,” someone says, and the sound of his voice makes your breath catch in your chest. Then he says your name.

You turn, coming face to face with Oscar. Well. Okay. He’s studying you with a pained look on his face and standing under an umbrella.

“Yeah, shit,” you mutter, shaking water from your hands. “Oh my God. Hi, by the way. It’s been a bit.”

“It has,” he agrees, shuffling closer to hold the umbrella over you. “Here. Um. You okay?”

You shrug. “S’just water. I won’t melt.”

Oscar laughs- god, you’ve missed that sound- and nudges your shoulder. “You’ve got bad luck with rainstorms, huh?”

You nod. You’re trying not to freak out at the fact that he’s here. Oscar is standing next to you, holding his umbrella over your head. He’s here and he’s talking to you and he’s feeling sympathetic, which maybe means he doesn’t think you’re completely crazy.

“S’what I get for trying to go get coffee,” you say over the sound of raindrops on the umbrella. “And lunch. Now I’ve got to drive home like this.”

Oscar frowns, his whole face crumpling with it. “Hey, you know… I live just a block down. If you want, you could come and change into some dry clothes.”

Your mother would kill you for even considering it. You can practically hear her yelling in your head. But god, it’s Oscar. It’s Oscar and you haven’t seen him in a month and you might never see him again. There’s something about the soft look on his face that makes you trust him.

“Okay,” you say, quietly. “That would be… really nice. But only if you’re sure.”

“Of course,” he says.

Your shoulders brush as you walk, the umbrella over both of your heads. The two of you are nearly silent on the walk there. It’s like neither of you quite know what to say. You know you don’t. You worry he’s regretting inviting you to his place. But he lets you in the front door, leads you to the elevator, and all the way up to flat. When he opens the door, warm air pours over you like a river. You step in and toe off your boots, wincing at the squish of your wet socks.

Oscar winces, too. “Here, the bathroom’s right there,” he says, pointing at a partially open door. “I’ll go grab you some dry clothes. There’s towels in there too.”

You nod and step into the room. So far, the little bit of his apartment that you’ve seen matches up with what he’s told you. There are no shoes sitting out in the entryway. The bathroom is nearly spotless, which makes you feel a bit guilty about the dirty rainwater you’re dripping onto the floor. Oscar’s only gone long enough for you to take off your jacket.

He knocks on the door. “I’ve got clothes for you.”

You open the door, and he’s standing there, eyes squeezed shut. The clothes are held out in midair, like he’s trying to keep his distance. You laugh and take them, murmuring out a thanks. As you go to change, you hear him walk away.

You shuck your wet clothes off and drop them in the tub, shivering when the air hits your bare skin. You wipe the rainwater from your skin. Then you pull on the clothes he gave you- a t-shirt, a hoodie, and a pair of sweatpants. Plus a pair of thick, warm looking socks. All of them are baggy on you, but luckily the pants have a drawstring so you can pull them tight around your hips. You wring the water out of your hair with the towel and then wrap it around your shoulders before you step out into the hallway.

You can hear him moving around in the next room, so you head there. He’s standing at the kitchen island, which is open to the living room. He looks up when he hears you walk in, and a soft smile spreads across his face. His living room is neat and tidy, too. His plants are all lined up on the windowsill. You recognize them all from your store, and you smile.

“D’you have a plastic bag I can put my clothes in?” You ask, and he tilts his head at you. “I don’t wanna get more rainwater on your floor. Or in my car, really.”

“I mean, sure,” he says with a shrug. “Or… you could throw them in the washer. Hang out for a bit.”

He’s not looking at you anymore. You’re glad, because you’re sure you have a dumbfounded look on your face. It’s then that you notice the coffee machine running on the counter behind him, and the snacks out on the counter. Your mind is racing. He hasn’t stopped by the shop in nearly a month, but now…

“I don’t want to be a bother,” you say, unsure what else there is to possibly say.

He shakes his head, still not looking up. “You’re not.”

You cast your eyes to the window. It’s raining harder now. And god, you’ve missed him. You didn’t realize just how much until you were standing here.

“It’s been a while,” he says, turning his back to you when the coffee maker beeps. “We have some catching up to do.”

You think about letting it go. Maybe it’s enough to be here. Maybe you just shouldn’t bring it up. But really, you’re confused about the fact that he stopped coming to the store.

You tilt your head at him. “Yeah, you stopped coming in.”

“Well, you never texted me,” he says. “So I figured I’d freaked you out or something. But then Logan said he stopped by and you asked about me-“

You stare at the back of his head, bewildered, and you break in. “Oscar, I don’t have your number.”

He freezes, hand in midair, reaching for a coffee mug. He turns his head over his shoulder, and his eyes meet your again. He looks just as confused as you feel. Suddenly, your heart is racing in your chest.

“I wrote it on the coffee cup,” he says, voice quiet.

You stare at him, wide eyed. “There was nothing on my coffee cup.” He shakes his head, opens his mouth, but you keep talking. “I’m sure of it. But there was writing on yours. I know because I wondered if the barista was trying to give you her number.”

Oscar just stares at you for a moment, his lips barely parted. “Shit. I gave you the wrong cup.”

Shit, you repeat in your head. He tried to give you his number. He thought he gave you his number, and then you never texted him. He thought you rejected him. No wonder he stopped coming in.

“You could’ve just asked me for my number, you know,” you tell him.

“Yeah, but this was cuter,” he says. “It was- it was my number and this cheesy ass pickup line that Logan helped me think of and I- I really thought you just didn’t…”

“Pickup line?”

“Looking back it sounds stupid,” he admits. “But yeah. I was trying to ask you out on a date. And so when you didn’t text me…”

You cross the room, walking right up in front of him. His hands have fallen to his sides. His eyes trace your face as you smile up at him. He’s chewing on the inside of his cheek, brows slightly furrowed. You can smell the coffee now- it reminds you of when he brought you the coffee weeks ago.

“You should ask me now,” you tell him, smiling brightly.

He nods. “Without the pickup line, though.”

You pout up at him. He grins. One of his hands comes up to the side of your face, fingers cupping your jaw. His thumb prods at your cheek.

“Will you go on a date with me?” He asks, voice low.

You pretend to think about it. Pretend it doesn’t make your heart melt just to hear him say it. “Hm. When?”

He shrugs, looks around. “How about now?”

“It’s raining,” you remind him.

“We can have a stay at home date,” he suggests. “Coffee, lunch, a movie, maybe.”

You tilt your head. “Sounds nice.”

“Yeah?” He says, sounding a bit like he doesn’t quite believe you.

“Yeah,” you agree. “I’ve been waiting for you to ask me out since the day we met.”

Oscar laughs and leans closer. “I’ve got a lot of time to make up for, then.”

He presses his lips to yours, and your eyes slip closed. You reach up and tangle your fingers in his hair to keep him close. He tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear- it’s still wet from the rain, and both of you giggle into the kiss. His hands drop to your hips, shoving the sweatshirt out of the way to hold onto you. You could kiss him for hours, you think. It’s all you’ve wanted for months now.

The coffee is growing cold on the counter. Suddenly, though, you don’t need caffeine.

He pulls away slightly, looks you up and down. “You look cute in my clothes, you know.”

You giggle and tug on the sweatshirt, pointing at the orange logo on the chest. “Thanks. Big McLaren guy, are you?”

Oscar laughs and brushes his lips against your temple. “You don’t even know the half of it.”

Then he goes back to kissing you. You’re not complaining. You’ve got all the time in the world to learn all about him.

…..

Weeks later, you corner Logan at the British Grand Prix. Oscar’s distracted by interviews, but Logan’s not busy.

“What was the pickup line he wrote?” You ask, arms crossed over your chest.

Surprisingly, he needs very little convincing. He just laughs, eyes darting to where Oscar stands behind you in the media pen. His gaze is full of amusement.

“I be-leaf we’re meant to be,” he says in a teasing tone. “He was down bad.”

You laugh and turn over your shoulder to look at your boyfriend. He’s grinning watching the two of you talk. Later, you tease him for the cheesy line, for hiding behind coffee cups and scribbled pen when he could’ve just told you. He teases you for the same, for not telling him how you felt, for not making a move. And then you look at him, knowing your gaze is terribly soft.

“I believe it, too,” you tell him.

When he kisses you, you draw constellations between the freckles on his face with your thumb. Outside, it starts to rain.

a/n: can you tell I am a big plant nerd? anyways live laugh love oscar piastri I want to help him pick out plants :)

taglist: @4-mula1 @celestialams @struggling-with-delia @lovekt @i-wish-this-was-me

#oscar piastri oneshot #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri fanfic #formula one oneshot #formula one fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #f1 fanfic #formula 1 oneshot #formula 1 x reader #oscar piastri #honeywrites #op81 #if you’ve made it this far in the tags somehow hi

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