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deadsetobsessions · 1 month

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Alley Drunk! Danny AU- Pt. 4

[Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.3]

Danny blinked down at the cart, where a red hoodie and pants with red stripes along the side laid over the lip of the cart. Considering they’re in this universe’s brand of Marget- seriously, who names a store Target? If anything in Amity Park was named that, Skulker would have wrecked it in five seconds flat- it’s hilariously on brand. Though, to be fair, this was Gotham’s version too, which meant a lot of security guards (who definitely doubled as goons for the Rogues, Danny was sure) and the vibes were spooky.

“I’m guessing red’s your favorite color.”

Instead of the humorous way he meant the sentence, Jason looked up anxiously and Danny immediately hated himself a little bit more.

“Sh- I can put it back..?” Jason hunched in on himself.

Danny tracked the movement with clearer eyes than he’s had in a long while and ancients, does it remind him of how Dani was in front of Vlad all those years ago. And Danny has spent his entire half life being not like Vlad, so he’s not going to start now.

“Nah, you should definitely add some more stuff. This is no where near enough clothes.”

It really wasn’t. Danny had taken Jason to the store to pick out clothes- “Ther’s a second hand store down the stree’, ya know,” Jason had mumbled when they went through the doors- but the kid had only tentatively put in a small red hoodie and some pants in the cart. Now he had to put this in a way that’ll wipe the stubbornly hesitant look on Jason’s face off.

“Think about it this way, then. You’re repping me now, and while I might be the alley drunk, I’m not the poorly dressed alley drunk, yeah?”

“Oh. Tha’ makes sense.” Jason nodded to himself determinedly, and the kid strode over to the t-shirt section. For all of his confidence, he still glanced back to see if it was okay with Danny.

Well, Dani was the same way before she found her confidence (when she knew Danny wouldn’t abandon her or hurt her) so Danny just gave him a thumbs up before reaching into the rack and sweeping an armful of clothing straight into the cart. Then, he strode over to the jackets and grabbed the ones in Jason’s size and slightly bigger. Oh, he has to grab shoes. He’ll leave that for later, but Danny was going to get those ratty trainers off of Jason’s feet and into the nearest trash can if it was the last thing he does.

The halfa hummed, pausing at the first decidedly not miserable sound he’s made in a while. Dammit, if that wasn’t a sign of Danny’s attachment to Jason, he doesn’t know what would be. To be fair… Danny already committed murder for the kid, which was pretty much something he thought he’d never do, so in for a penny out for a pound or whatever.

He put a significant amount of the budget aside for the section labeled “JASON” so Danny shopped without a worry. Charlie’s ill-gotten assets were a good monetary compensation for his crime of existing near Jason or existing, period.

He picked up toiletries, toothbrushes and the like, when Jason came back sans t-shirt. Instead of a shirt- Danny had actually hoped that Jason would try to get multiple shirts- Jason was clutching a book.

Before he could even voice anything, Danny plucked the book out of his grip and put it into the cart with a disarming smile.

“Oh, good idea. We should get you books too. Wanna go pick out some more?”

“Uh- y’re just gonna get a book, just like that?”

“More than one book, I should hope. You are going to school, right?”

“…Yeah!” Danny couldn’t fathom ever being excited at the thought of school, but as Jason bounced away to peruse the admittedly poor selection of books, Danny couldn’t help but think that maybe he should give this education thing another try. Who knows? Maybe it’ll be less stressful now that he’s not Phantom.

Danny walked to the aisle next to the books and promptly proceeded to shove every single piece of stationary he thought was nice- pens, gel pens, cooling pens and pencils, a thick stack of notebooks, flash cards, etcetera- into the rapidly getting full cart.

Jason came back with three more books- nice, the classics- and froze at the sight of the cart.

“Oh, hey. Getting all of those?”

“Wha’- wha’s wit’ the stuff?”

“School supplies! Quality education starts with quality supplies, you know!” Danny said, a sliver of the grin that used to come so easily to him making an appearance on his face. "Don't worry, I budgeted. See?"

Danny handed Jason a piece of paper, confident that the kid would know if it was good or not.

"Where'd... ya get all of this?"

"Hmm... here and there."

Jason looked up at him, squinting suspiciously. "I hear' Charlie's gone poofed up."

Danny shrugged and put a calculator in the cart. "Oh, I'm sure he's busy."

Yeah, Danny thought vindictively. Busy being dead.

"Ya sound like a walking con," Jason said as he visibly decided to give up fighting against Danny's spending. "We nee' food."

"Gotcha. Well, if you need anything else, just bring it into the cart."

"I want veggies. Frozen, 's cheaper."

Danny nodded, resisting the urge to ruffle Jason's hair.

----

"Hey, you's the Alley Drunk, right? 'Bout that boy you've been toting ar-"

Danny punched the guy in the face, dropping him like a stone. He looked up slowly and swayed.

"Any of you ask about my kid brother again, and I won't bother with being drunk when I hit you."

Rapid nods. Danny shuffled away, satisfied.

----

Two weeks later, after a school day, Danny finds Jason heading to the bathroom with a box of...

"Hair-dye?"

Jason, who was marginally more relaxed and assured that Danny wasn't going to kick him out, nodded.

"Dye's fadin' n' I dun wanna get nabbed on the streets for having red hair."

Danny blinked. "You have red hair?"

"Sure do. See? Roots are showin' again." Jason pointed at his scalp where Danny could see the hair was getting lighter.

"Right. Well- I'll leave you to it. Let me know if you need help, kiddo." Danny said, desperately hoping he hid how off kilter he was feeling well.

"I don't need help, ah've been doing this for ages." The kid went into the bathroom and closed the door harshly. When the lock clicked and the faucet began running, Danny let himself slide down the wall into a crouch, hands cradling his head.

Red hair. Blue eyes. Tan skin. The facial features. The intelligence and empathy.

Danny chuckled hysterically under his breath.

Was Jason this universe's version of Jazz?

"Fuck."

#danny phantom #batman #dc x dp #dpxdc #danny adopts jason todd #jason todd #bamf danny phantom #alley drunk! danny au #danny: i'm grieving #jason: wanna bet?#that's right jason's this universe's jazz fenton #this universe's danny fenton died and that's why danny can exist here without causing issues #danny: i have adopted a random child #danny: this child is jazz wtf

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dcxdpdabbles · 6 months

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Cave boy Danny gets kidnapped by the joker. He's missing for an hour and a half at most but when the bats find him, he's sitting unbound in a chair looking at the jokers corpse. Danny's face has a soft smile and when asked what happened Danny just says 'justice'

Later they find video of Danny while tied up reading the jokers mind for absolute filth leaving him cry and broken on the floor, and the the camera glitches out and cute for a few minutes then comes back on to the joker dead and Danny free.

Danny wants it to be known that he hadn't gone looking for trouble, no matter what Tim Drake says. He only meant to go to the mall and do regular teenage things with the ward of cash Bruce had handed him.

He hadn't been lying when he said the mall back home was small, and after a lap, it got really dull. It was more entertaining to go to Nasty Burger than to linger around the few shops selling the same thing.

Alfred had let it slip the last time he came around for Danny's clothes- the old man had thrown a fit when Danny attempted to do his own laundry, and then Danny threw a fit claiming he had to do some of the chores or he wouldn't live there, and they came to an agreement to do 50/50 of responsibilities- that the mall was one of Bruce's favorite places to be as a teenager.

He didn't fully outsay it, but Danny could tell Alfred was getting tired of him not venturing out. Alfred also seemed bothered by Danny's lack of motivation for anything- and probably feared that he was slowly falling into depression for being stuck here.

Granted, Danny did not allow them to see him do anything besides sleep, eat, and laze about- with a shower every night- he could see where his concern was coming from. Danny was most active at night when he left a duplicate- he could not make it move or speak since it was a new power, so it placed it in his bed to appear asleep- and rushed away for a few hours to work on his ship.

So Alfred not so casually told him of Gotham Mall, with its five floors containing five hundred and twenty stores. The Mall at Amity Park only has seventy-one stores.

Danny was dying to see it just to see a mall that big.

Then the Butler made the deal sweeter by suggesting Danny do his outing alone, without his Wayne bodyguards, and convinced Bruce to give him some pocket money.

Nine hundred! Bruce's idea of pocket money is nine hundred, which means Danny could have an excellent time shopping. So Danny took a shower, threw on a nice pair of jeans that hugged all the right places- according to Steph- a black T-shirt, and scurried down the stairs.

At the door, Bruce talks in low voices with his sons- Damian and Jason- but all three turned to him once he appeared.

Damian's regular haughty expression evaporated once he caught sight of Danny's shirt. His jaw slacked in surprise as he breathed, "What are you wearing?"

"Oh, this? Alfred had it printed on a shirt for me." Danny gestures to the notable constellations floating in space's blue, green, and purple gasses.

Orion was the center of the work, being the only one with a figure shaped into a human with the stars that made him visible inside his body. The other constellations floating around him remained bright spots with no lines.

"I drew you that," Damian tells him as though Danny forgot where the image he passed along to Alfred had come from.

"Yeah, and I put it on a shirt 'cause it's awesome. I love it from the moment I saw it." Danny shrugs, watching with an amused grin as Damian's face flushes bright red.

The younger boy looks down at his feet, but not before Danny can spot the pure, unadulterated glee his words have caused in the kid.

"You have some taste, it seems." Damian mutters. Jason and Bruce are beaming, their eyes sparkling in a way that would belie their relationship is through adoption instead of blood.

"Most parents put their kid's drawings on the fridge instead of wearing them," Jason teases, and Danny shrugs.

"Most parents have talentless kids." He barely bites back the rest of his words. Damian isn't my kid because I am not Bruce, and he hurries to the doorway. "Anyway, I'm heading out. I'll be back by eleven,"

"You'll be back by nine." Bruce corrects, taking on the tone of a scolding parent. Danny is violently reminded of his own dad when Jazz is dating Johnny. He misses him. "Gotham is dangerous after dark. Alfred got us all to let you go alone, but that doesn't mean you can be reckless."

"Please, what's the worst that can happen?" Danny asked, practically skipping the stairs to the Uber Alfred called for him.

The worst that could have happened was that a stupid clown, calling himself Joker, had attacked the mall while Danny was browsing a gothic store.

He had been comparing two black dresses, trying to figure out which one Sam would prefer- and no, he was not blushing or feeling giggly thinking of her reaction. Just like he hadn't done the same when he picked up a personal electric planner for Tuck two floors down- when the Joker's goons had literally yanked him out of the store.

He only had a few minutes to blink in the bright light, as "Hot Topic" had been low light sightings for the store's ambiance, before he was thrown at the feet of a cackling man in purple.

His hands had been tied behind his back as they moved him, and Danny could only applause their quick hands. It's impressive for them to get it done with how much he thrashed.

Danny's first thought of the purple suit man was, "That's a ghost if I ever darn seen one," only to realize that his ghost sense had not gone off. The man just looked like that. How unfortunate.

"Well, well, if it isn't Brucie's newest charity case!" Joker shouted, yanking Danny's face up from his chin and leaning close to his face.

"Dude, personal space." He says, scrunching up his nose as the Joker's breath hits his nostrils. "Also, invest in some dental insurance."

"Oh, we have ourselves a jokester here, folks!" The clown's laugh did not hide the anger or shy away from madness. Danny suddenly felt he may have to tap into Phantom to get away from him.

This was a being that hurt others just because he could. Joker very existence was to simply harm others.

The very opposite of Phantom.

All of his instincts were screaming as Joker put his arm around Danny's shoulder and told the watching horrified crowd. "I'm a bit of a jokester myself. Why don't I give you private lessons and let these people judge whose death is funnier? Little Danny Kane or Bernad Dowd?"

The crowd parted, most gasping in horror as another teenage boy was dragged to the front. He was covered in wounds, bleeding a slow, sluggish mess, and his head bobbed as if though he was about to faint.

Danny's pupils shrunk, and his core raged as the boy was backhanded in front of him. Joker- the soon-to-be dead man- spread his arms, shouting for the whole world to be heard. "This is a special performance for Timothy Drake-Wayne. I hope you enjoy watching your boyfriend and adoptive brother partake in my game as a thank-you for your generous donation to the families of the last people I made laugh! I want everyone to know that any more donations to such families will have a similar show for their own loved ones!"

Danny's mind went white with a loud ringing, and somewhere far away, he was aware that Joker had them moved to a room to play his game.

He barely registered the camera being set up or tied to a chair surrounded by tortuous-looking items. He didn't even notice poor Bernard- already lost consciousness- tied to the chair beside him.

He only had eyes for the laughing man in purple.

But it was not Danny watching him, it was Phantom.

And Phantom was fresh out of mercy.

"No need for such an ugly frown," Joker chuckles, unaware of the ghost's core vibrating with the need to Protect what it recognizes a an attack on the Waynes.

An attack on his people.

"Let's turn that frown upside down!" Joker says, and- those are his last words.

Phantom pounces.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

It takes an hour and a half for them to be found. It might have been more, but Danny had only counted for that amount. Bernad had been stabilized after he performed some emergency field first aid on him, trying his best to not look at the smear of bones and guts that used to be Joker.

Bruce breaks down the door with Tim rushing to his boyfriend in a frantic cry for his lover's name.

Danny steps back to let him have better access. He follows beside Bruce, watching Tim hold Bernad to his chest, breathing him in. He'll be fine. A few bruises and broken bones, but Bernad will leave.

"What happened?" Batman demands.

Danny looks up to stare at him right in the eyes despite the mask blocking his pupils. "Justice."

Bruce doesn't say anything in response, but the silence- for the first time since he found Danny in that cave- is heavy and weary.

Danny needs to hurry with his repairs. He thinks he is about to wear out his welcome at Wayne Manor. It's a pity he was just starting to like it there.

Master post link

#dcxdpdabbles #Cave boy #Part 6 #Offsecreen Murder #Danny just showed that he does have Bruce Wayne's volient reaction #Bernard Dowd #Damian was so excited about the shirt too #Danny was just minding his busniess

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mypoisonedvine · 2 years

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𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿 • eddie munson x reader

sequel to 𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗼𝗿𝗲 and 𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 • another album, another tour, this time with a stop in Indianapolis featuring a local opener that proves to be more familiar than you expected.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 • 5.4k

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 • smut (18+ only), semi-public sex, extreme fluff, jealous reader, cocky eddie, hatefucking (at first), emotions!!

Objectively, Eddie was never the best you ever had. Considering your long and storied history included a lot of very talented people— sometimes multiple at a time— it was hard to compete. He didn't make you come the hardest, or the fastest, or the most.

But for some reason, he was always your favorite.

Even if he wasn't a sex god, he managed to keep up with you and he was just the right balance of everything: sweet but not too grovelling; good-looking but not too self-obsessed; young but not too naive.

Truth be told, every time you thought about it, you wondered if you should've taken him on tour with you. You imagined a life where you had this little boytoy to keep you company, where he held you close at night in that big empty bed while the bus was on its way to the next stop; where you finished your sets and walked just off stage to find him waiting, and he'd give you a big kiss and tell you how amazing you were.

But it was just a fantasy, something to get you through especially lonely nights. You’d been thinking about him leading up to your tour stop in Indiana, wondering if you should find some way to reach out— all you had was an old phone number, and that was nearly a year ago now that you found out he graduated and moved away. After considering looking him up a few times (and realizing you didn’t actually know if Eddie was short for Edward or Edmond or Edgar or… not short for anything), you decided it was best left alone. After all, your presence in Indiana was pretty heavily anticipated, it’s not like he couldn’t figure it out if he wanted to find some way to see you.

Danny nodded at you from behind the drums as you walked onstage for soundcheck.

“Okay, we’re just gonna tune and run the first song on the setlist,” the sound technician announced over the speakers as you put in your earpiece.

“Great,” you answered into the microphone, slinging your guitar on over your shoulder and starting to pick at it to get it perfectly in tune— yes, most big stars have the venue techs or their roadies tune instruments for them, but you preferred doing it yourself. It was like… well, it was sort of like foreplay. You preferred warming up your guitar yourself.

“Hey, you heard of this band that’s opening for us?” Jerome, your second guitarist, asked you as an assistant adjusted his mic stand. “I was talking to the venue manager— he said a ton of people are here to see them. They’re local legends or something.”

“I didn’t even read who’s opening for us,” you admitted. “I haven’t slept since Louisville.”

“They’re called Corroded Coffin,” he said. “Real grungy stuff.”

“Well, it’s a decent name,” you offered. “I’ll have to watch their set and see if they’re any good.”

When soundcheck ended, you retired to the green room for a drink and a rest, the closest thing you had to a pre-show ritual. This venue was nice enough that you had a TV by the vanity, meaning you totally zoned out and lost track of time watching National Geographic; you didn’t even realize the show had started until you heard loud, echoing guitars from outside.

Turning the volume down, you listened to the muffled sound for a couple minutes, nodding to yourself. Hey, they’re not bad.

Deciding to venture out and get a proper listen, you navigated the crowded backstage— roadies, assistants, and for some reason a crowd of kids in matching t-shirts?— so you could peer in from-offstage to see the band. The first thing you saw was the pit; it was full of girls. Screaming, desperate girls. Shit, who is this guy? You figured you weren’t likely to get the same reception from that section of the crowd, unless there was a bisexual convention in town.

Leaning further in, you finally saw the back of the guitarist’s head. Any other context, and that mess of long, curly brown hair would give it away— but this was the metal scene, after all, and most of the guys looked like that.

He took a step back, disappointing the girls who had been climbing over each other to try to touch his ankle, and shook his head to get his hair out of his face. That was when you got a proper glimpse of him for the first time, and your breath caught.

No, it’s not…

He was too far away for you to be sure, and if you leaned forward any more, you’d be visible to the crowd which was not worth the trouble. Spinning around, you saw the group of kids behind you, and narrowed your eyes at their shirts. “Hey,” you yelled over the music to get the attention of one of them, “what do those shirts mean?”

“They’re for our D&D club!” he answered emphatically. “That’s our Dungeon Master!”

As he pointed to the frontman again, you spun around. Fuck.

“EDDIE, WE LOVE YOUUU!!!” a girl with braces screamed from the front row, literally sobbing, and you wondered how you could physically fit in your body every emotion you were feeling in this one moment.

Euphoria, confusion, devastation, excitement, anxiety— he was here, he was opening for you, he really made it. But was he too good for you now? He was the next big thing— you could already tell, hearing him play, that he was the real deal— and you were… well, you were the last big thing. He was Van Halen, you were Black Sabbath; he was video, you were the radio star. He was the nineties, coming around the corner faster than you were ready for— wasn’t it 1979, like, an hour ago?

It didn’t hurt from a stardom standpoint— the record sales didn’t bother you, even when there were less of them. You didn’t need to be famous, half the time you didn’t even like it, you just loved the music whether it was yours or someone else’s.

But it hurt seeing Eddie, because it made you realize how long it had really been. It hurt wondering if tonight was the beginning of the end— but you had hope that you wouldn’t be facing the end alone.

As he focused on playing a complex solo, his tongue curled up over his lip. Be careful, Ed, I dunno if these girls can handle that…

Looking out over his crowd again, your gut burned as you saw the girls fawning over him, even if you couldn’t blame them.

You watched the rest of his set from the best seat in the house, which was actually standing up just behind the curtain, until you heard Eddie speak into the microphone: “You guys have been great! We would stay forever if we could, but this is our last song…”

Heart pumping, you stumbled back and out of the way, retreating to your green room— you weren’t ready for him to walk by, you weren’t ready for him to ignore you, or kiss you, or slap you, or whatever he was going to do.

He was probably over it; he probably didn’t even care, so casually flaunting his one-that-got-away-ness in front of you. You slammed your door shut behind you, pouring yourself a quick drink and tossing it back in a second. It dulled your nerves but only worsened the sickness gathering in your stomach. This was everything you’d been waiting for since 1985, but it was so terrifying now that it was here. Everything could go wrong.

But of course he still wanted you, right? He had to, he was one of your biggest fans just a few years ago. But wow, time can change so much— and you had no idea he could play like that. It only made you more attracted to him, right when you were trying to play it cool.

You heard the crowd going wild, you heard the music come to a halt, and you knew you were supposed to be getting ready for your own set. Right now, you weren’t sure if you could even name one of your own songs…

Well, probably just one— the one about him. In your mind, it was sort of a graduation present from you to Eddie— but you weren’t even a hundred percent sure he ever heard it.

You waited a few minutes, hoping maybe Corroded Coffin would be gone when you stepped out— yet praying that they wouldn’t be— but when you entered the hallway again, you found a typical scene between the opener and headliner: musicians and their most privileged fans everywhere, getting in the way of crew trying desperately to set up between acts, and Eddie right there in the middle of all of it.

He was sitting on an amp, fiddling around on his acoustic, girls hanging off of his arm and sitting in a circle around him. Christ.

Hesitantly, you walked up to the group, crossing your arms and watching for a moment. "Guess you made it out of your garage phase," you smirked.

He looked up at you, his strumming coming to a halt, as he gave you a knowing smile. "Yeah," he offered; his voice was eerily familiar yet different, and you wondered if things were too different now. If you and him were basically strangers, and you'd just have to wave hello and leave all that history behind.

After all, you'd only met once before, technically. But to you, it felt like your story wasn't over yet.

“Oh my god,” one of the girls jumped up to you, “I— I’m such a huge fan!”

“Oh? That’s nice to hear,” you offered her, glancing between her eyes and Eddie’s a few times. “I— do you want me to sign anything?”

“That would be amazing,” she beamed, “I’ve— I’ve got one of your CDs right here.”

“Ah, a CD,” you nodded as she pulled it out of her purse and you got your trusty metallic Sharpie from your back pocket, “that’s how I know you’re one of the new kids.”

“You can make it out to Pearl,” she decided as you took the album from her, “that’s me.”

“Will do,” you agreed, uncapping the pen with your teeth and writing over the cover.

“I actually wanted to ask you something,” she said.

“Yeah?” you prompted, mostly focused on writing.

“My favorite song of yours is Pretty Boy,” she explained, “from your new album? I wanted to ask you who it’s about.”

You glanced at Eddie again, finding him still smiling at you. Of course he knew, he barely had to listen to the verse to figure it out, it wasn’t exactly cryptic. Can’t take you home when there’s no home to go to, still remember you with all the guys that I go through, it was pretty obvious. “Uh,” you stalled, voice slurred a bit from talking with a pen cap in your mouth, “it’s… not really about anyone. It’s just about the idea of someone.”

You handed her back the CD and put your marker away. “Wow,” she smiled when you gave it back, reading the message to herself. Pearl— don’t be a slut, with your signature across the bottom. Her smile faltered slightly, but she thanked you weakly.

“That’s good advice,” you informed her sternly as she sat back down.

“You know,” Eddie piped up, making your heart beat faster, “I wanted you to sign something of mine, too.”

You smirked at him, summoning some confidence from deep within yourself. “Kid, you’ve already got my name written all over you.”

A few of the girls started whispering to each other, and Eddie glanced down— he didn’t seem too caught off-guard, but his cheeks did flush. “Then maybe you can make my guitar match,” he suggested.

“Sure,” you agreed, and he stood up, lifting the guitar’s strap over his shoulder so he could hold it out for you and your re-uncapped marker.

Your hands were almost shaking, at the worst possible time, as he stood so close, staring at you with those eyes. You thought about what you might write, and decided as you made contact with the glossy wood.

Eddie,

I’m still waiting for you.

As you put your signature at the bottom, you were startled slightly by a flash; you turned to see one of the girls had taken an instant photo, and she pulled it out and shook it as it developed. “Sorry,” she mumbled sheepishly, “just a little piece of rock and roll history. Legends meeting for the first time!”

You didn’t correct her; Eddie just nodded. “You’ll have to send that to Rolling Stone,” he decided.

“There you go,” you announced as you finished the signature, watching him read what you’d written.

“Thanks,” he smiled, turning the guitar and holding it forward so he could look at it better before looking at you again. “Any chance I could bum a smoke?”

One of the girls started to reach into her bag, but without even looking at her, Eddie held his hand out and she froze. “Actually, I—” quit, you were about to say, but then you met his gaze. He really was still that boy you found waiting outside the back of a smaller stadium nearly four years ago— his eyes were the same: tender, pleading, hopeful. You knew the feeling well. “I… have a pack in my dressing room,” you offered.

“Great,” he smiled.

“Aw, don’t go!” one of the girls whined, the rest joining in a chorus of moping.

“Uh— hey! There’s Gareth!” Eddie pointed. “Will you girls go cheer him up? He, uh, just broke up with his girlfriend.”

Eddie gave his best sympathetic sigh as the girls’ eyes lit up; and while the cloud of adorers descended on the drummer, you guided Eddie back with you across the backstage tunnel, tumbling through the green room door with him.

When you were both on the other side and the door shut, he didn’t even give you a chance to offer him a drink, now that he was definitely old enough— he just kissed you, with every ounce of passion he’d been saving for you all this time. You whimpered and grabbed his face, holding him close, letting his tongue roam wherever and tasting his smile in return.

He pushed you back against the wall, pulling your hips against his, pressing all of himself against you; he tried to break the kiss to say something, but you pulled his face towards you again, you just needed a little more.

He hummed against your lips, and you let him go so he could kiss your neck instead. Your back was already arching up off the wall, and you felt his hands slide up the back of your shirt, tickling the dip of your spine, finding the clasp of your bra and undoing it in a moment so he could bring his hands around to the front and grope your chest.

You grinned as his fingers toyed with your nipples and squeezed your sensitive skin; there was more experience behind his movements than before, yet the same boyish eagerness under it all.

That said, your grin faded when he pulled your shirt and bra up, exposing you to the air, indulging himself in a glance and a sigh at your breasts before he put his mouth on them. “Fuck,” you whined. “Eddie, fuck.”

Your hands reached up and tangled in his hair, and he moaned around your skin, moving to the other nipple while his fingers gently pinched the first. “Say my name again,” he demanded.

“Make me,” you countered.

He stopped right away, spinning you around as you held your hands against the wall to keep yourself upright. He pressed his back up to yours, letting his hips rock so you could feel his erection against you and you purred. The way his fingers quickly unbuttoned your jeans reminded you a bit of the way he fingered his guitar on stage; the way he pushed your pants and underwear down and grabbed a handful of your ass before giving it a sudden spank reminded you of someone totally different from Eddie. I guess a lot can change in a few years…

“You gonna fuck me or what?” you sighed. “I’ve gotta be on stage any minute now.”

“I’m gonna fuck you,” he promised— or maybe it was a warning. "But I'm not your groupie anymore, sweetheart, I'm a star, and I fuck like one. All those girls wanted me to do to them what you did to me— but all I want is to be buried in you."

You hummed proudly turning around and facing him so you could start working on his belt for him. “Did you miss me?” you wondered, taunting with your question, but he wasn’t fazed.

“‘Course I did,” he smiled. "I wasn't a virgin when we met, but I still think you made a man outta me that night. You even let me come in you, you remember that? So dirty," he smirked, a hint of a snarl on his smile as he scrunched up his nose for a second. "You just want this cunt bred, huh?"

"Damn," you sighed, "you’re all grown up— and you got nasty."

He laughed breathlessly, looking down. "Guess I did. You haven't changed, though."

He guided you across the room, to the vanity, where he spun you around and bent you over quickly— not too rough, but definitely hurried— yanking your head up by your hair so you had to look in the mirror.

"Want you to see how pretty you are taking my cock."

He was inside you a moment later, and your eyes rolled back. “Fuck,” you groaned, legs quivering as he started off right away; he gave you long, deep strokes that made your walls clench.

"I remember how you like it," he purred. "Deep, and rough— and you like being in control. But right now, I wanna see you lose control."

Well, that was the plan if he kept talking like that…

“I wanna see you come for me,” he continued, “exactly when I tell you to.”

“Yeah?” you chuckled breathlessly. “If you wanted obedience you should’ve snagged one of those little tarts from the pit.”

“If you wanted me to play nice you should’ve taken me with you when we first met,” he shot back, fucking you harder as anger tinted his voice and his movements. “Back when I was still an impressionable kid.”

“That’s— that’s exactly why I didn’t,” you explained through your teeth. “I was trying to do right by you.”

“Do you regret it?”

“Yes!” you admitted. “Yes, I wish I wasn’t such a damn good person, okay? Now just fuck me, damn it!”

He laughed a little, but finally did as he was told, taking hold of your hips and setting a brutal pace.

“S’this… this how you fuck your groupies?” you choked out.

He laughed as he shook his head. “No, I take my time with them.”

Fuck. “I liked you better when you were nice.”

He smacked your ass again, making you whimper. “Don’t lie to me.”

Touche… “Did you like me better when I was just your fantasy?” you managed to get out.

“No,” he sighed, leaning down and laying his body over yours, holding you tighter. “No, I like you best like this— here, with me. Real.”

You whined and dropped your head down, hoping to hide your watering eyes, but he cooed as he pet your hair before grabbing it pulling you up again.

“Look, baby,” he insisted, “I want you to see it— god, you’re so beautiful. Look how beautiful you are.”

“Y-you’re beautiful, too,” you blurted out as you watched his face in the reflection, still a bit red as he panted behind you, and he gave you a breathless smile

"Tell me how good it feels,” he instructed.

"So good, Eddie, your cock is so good," you groaned.

“Y’love it, huh?” he taunted, but his eyebrows knitted together when you shook your head.

“No, Ed— I hate this… I hate that I’m the one that made you bitter,” you admitted. “You were so sweet before…”

He slowed down a bit, one hand brushing your hair out of your face as the other held your hips— tight, but not painfully so. “I’m still yours,” he whispered by your ear, making you bite your lip to hold back a sob. “Baby, I’m still yours.”

“Then why are you angry?”

“Because you’re not mine.”

You laughed— you actually laughed, and he hissed as it made you tighten on him. “Damn, you got older, but you didn’t get much smarter, huh?” you noticed. “I was yours from the start, Eddie.”

He fucked you harder— but not exactly in the rough way. In a patient, but needy, way; and you felt him smile as he kissed your neck again. “You’re just saying that,” he presumed teasingly.

“No— god, it’s real, it’s not just ‘cause we’re fucking,” you promised. “I’m yours.”

He pulled out and dropped to his knees, suddenly colliding his mouth with your sopping cunt. You whined as your legs quivered. "Fuck, Ed—!"

He growled as he lapped at you hungrily. "So sweet,” you could barely make out his mumbled groan when it was spoken right against your wet skin.

You were amazed he had the patience to stop fucking you in the middle of that— amazed and slightly pissed. “Fuck me,” you begged, “c’mon, I said I’m yours— I meant it.”

“You’re gonna make me come too fast if you keep saying you’re mine,” he explained. “I don’t want it to end yet.”

“Well, we’re already out of time,” you noticed as you glanced at the clock, “I should be on by now… they’re probably looking for me.”

“Well, let’s help them find you,” he encouraged with one more lick up the seam of your cunt before he stood up and shoved his cock inside you roughly. His pace was faster after that, careless to the way he hit the end of you every time— except it wasn’t careless, it was intentional. "Uh huh, scream for my cock, it'll get your voice warmed up,” he encouraged with a smile.

“God, I’m way too close,” you groaned, toes curling inside your boots, back arching deeper even as he held your hips steady. “Don’t make fun of me for coming so fast… I’ve been waiting a long time for this.”

“I’m— Christ, I’m not in any place to judge, am I? M’gonna come too,” he promised, “inside you. Gonna let it all drip out of you while you’re playing your set.”

Imagining that was what pushed you over the edge, actually. “Eddie, I’m coming,” you sobbed, “fuck, I— don’t stop, don’t stop—”

“I’ll never stop, I’ll never fucking stop, I swear,” he grunted— and even though he stopped barely ten seconds later as his own orgasm hit him, you knew exactly what he meant.

You both caught your breath, and he held you close as his legs gave out— which meant you both fell onto the floor, but you hardly noticed; you just let him pull you closer as your eyes fluttered shut.

It was a beautiful, peaceful moment for exactly two seconds before someone banged on the door. “WE NEED YOU TO SET UP!!” a crew member bellowed through the wood.

“GIMME A MINUTE!” you screamed back, making Eddie laugh behind you— and you followed suit. “Not so romantic, huh?”

“Nah, it’s perfect,” he assured softly, running his fingers down your back. “I’m sorry I was mean.”

“I deserved it,” you sighed, “I’m sorry I left you in Indiana in 1985.”

He scoffed. “I deserved that, too.”

You relaxed as he pulled your back into his chest, kissing along your neck. “I’ve gotta get up and get myself together,” you reminded him.

“Okay,” he sighed, letting you go so you could awkwardly climb up and start pulling your pants back on.

He just laid on the floor and watched you for a second, before shoving his cock back in his own jeans and standing up to correct his button and fly.

You bent down to look in the vanity again, wiping under your eye to carefully remove the evidence of an eyeliner-stained tear.

"I fell in love with you back then," he said suddenly, and you smiled, though you didn’t turn around.

"When we met?" you assumed.

"Before that," he replied. You stood up this time and faced him, heart beating so hard it made you wonder if he could see your chest moving. "Before you even knew me, before I really knew you, I loved you. I worshiped you. And before you even took me for yourself, I was yours. I still am, baby— I'm still yours, and I always was."

“Do you still love me?” you asked hesitantly— only because you knew you were ready for a no.

“Yes,” he smiled, stepping closer to you, “of course.”

"I never stopped thinking about you," you promised quietly. "I never forgot you."

He grabbed your hands suddenly, holding them up with his between the two of you, and you stared at them before you looked up at his eyes instead, brimming with optimism just like you’d dreamed of him for years. "I'm not letting you leave me again," he insisted. "You know how good we are together. You know I'll always love you. C'mon and let me be yours, angel— I'm gonna love you so much you won't know what to do with yourself."

You smirked. "I think you're always mine, whether I let you or not."

"I think you wanna marry me."

You nearly choked, and you felt your cheeks burn but you tried to keep your cool. "Bold claim."

"What if I ask you now?"

"You got a ring?"

"Do I?" he snorted, pulling a skull off of his right middle finger and getting down on one knee as he brandished it for you. "I don't want anyone else. You don't need anyone else. No more of this ships in the night crap— us, forever."

"A skull? Not the most romantic."

"Oh, but it is," he grinned, "til death do us part, babe. It was almost four years ago I said I'd follow you anywhere, I meant it, and I'll follow you to the grave."

The sound tech banged loudly on the door again. "YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE ON TEN MINUTES AGO, THE CROWD'S GONNA REVOLT," he bellowed.

"I need to play my set, Eddie," you reminded the man on his knee before you.

"Then play," he agreed, "and give me your answer after the encore."

You leaned down and kissed him, more gently than you’d allowed yourself before. “I will,” you promised.

You dashed out of the dressing room and towards the stage, a thousand people swarming around you to put your earpiece in, fling your guitar around your shoulder, brush powder over your face— and in a whirlwind of a few seconds, you were right there in front of the crowd, your band surrounding you. The crowd cheered, and your heart swelled; I’ve still got it.

“Good evening, Indianapolis!” you greeted through the microphone, and the roar grew. “Are we having fun tonight?”

It was easy, but it worked, and they applauded and whooped excitedly.

“How was that opener?” you prompted, and they cheered again. “Is it just me or was that frontman kinda cute?”

A more feminine cheer answered as if to say, it’s not just you.

“Hope you like this first song,” was your simple introduction before the drummer counted you off and you all began to play.

All in all, it was a great show. Crowd was good, band killed it (as always), and aside from a moment of feedback from one of the speakers, it all went pretty much perfectly. And that was all in spite of your mind being totally overwhelmed with thoughts of Eddie. Normally, music cleared your head, but nothing could keep your thoughts from everything that had just happened— and not even just that! You were thinking about that first night, about how young he was then; about when you called him and he stayed on with you until you fell asleep so you wouldn’t have to spend another night alone; about when he first looked at you backstage half an hour ago, holding onto his guitar, surrounded by girls but looking at you like you were the only woman in the world.

Shows always went by fast, especially when they went this well, but this one seemed to go by in a moment— and there you were, waiting in the dark, hearing them chant.

Encore, encore, encore!

You were about to go back out, but you smiled to yourself as you grabbed a stage manager by the sleeve. "Get me the lead guitarist for Corroded Coffin— bring him out on stage."

"Now?"

"Now."

He ran off to search for Eddie, and you turned to your bassist, Alex: “Think we’ve made ‘em wait long enough?”

Jerome answered instead. “Everybody knows you like to tease,” he smirked.

True, but not as true as it used to be. “Let’s go back,” you announced, hearing a roar of applause wash onto the stage as the musicians took the stage once more.

"We missed you," you offered into the mic, hearing the crowd cheer. "Want us to play one more?"

They screamed again, almost deafeningly, and you laughed. You glanced over at the side of the stage and felt your heart melt just at the sight of Eddie there, the stage manager getting him ready to go out.

"I've got someone I want you guys to meet first," you explained. "An old friend of mine. You know him best as the guy who rocked the fuck out of this place before I came on…"

As they figured out who you were talking about, their applause restored.

"If you don't mind, I'd like him to come out and play this song with me."

Of course, that only made them more excited. I’ll show you rock and roll history, boys and girls.

You motioned for him to come out, and he walked on with a smile and a wave to the encouraging crowd. "But I want you to know something else about him,” you continued as he grabbed one of your guitars and put it on, fiddling with it for a second to make sure he knew the sound and feel of the instrument. “He's not just the hottest new sound in metal, and he's not just a heartthrob—"

The girls cheered louder at that.

"He's also—" you glanced at him, standing beside you at the other microphone, smiling back at you with slight confusion. You took a deep breath in and out, surprised at how shaky it was. You didn't think you got nervous anymore. "He's also my fiancé."

You expected a huge reaction to that, but there was a pause first— a stillness that said, did we just hear that right?

Time seemed to slow down as you stepped up to him. The crowd was frozen, and silent, and then they were gone. Your band was gone, the crew was gone, it was just you and him in an empty stadium.

When you were in front of him, his eyes blinking at you, his smile soft and patient, you reached up and held his cheek. "I promised I wouldn't forget you, Eddie," you whispered. "Believe it or not, I tried. But I couldn’t— because I love you."

He smiled back wider. "I love you too," he returned. "Wanna get married?"

You laughed a bit. "Okay," you answered flippantly, and he pulled you into a sudden, powerful kiss.

Then the crowd was back, and louder than ever. You felt Eddie's hand take yours, squeezing it before gently slipping the skull ring on your finger. Yes, it was a little big, but it would do for now.

You returned to the mic with a smile as you addressed the crowd again. "We're gonna play a song for you all, it's called Pretty Boy. Do you know that one, Eddie?"

"I think I can keep up," he answered into his own microphone with a smirk.

"Then let's show 'em how good we are together," you decided, turning over your shoulder to make eye contact with the drummer as you counted off: "one, two, three, four!"

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you

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thebubblesareevil · 1 year

Text

Jobs are hard…humans are harder

Part 1, Part 2, Part 4, Part 5

Danny was bored, there was no other way to describe it. School wouldn’t be starting for another month and he barely knew anything about this world, which unfortunately meant he didn’t know anyone in this world. No one but Diana that is, and the nice old lady next door who sneaks him candy. Unfortunately Diana spends half the day at work and as such Danny was bored. You can only watch the news concerning meta human rights before you go mad. True she would be home soon, they would have dinner and talk about her day, hopefully with no calls for Wonder Woman.

Danny groaned as he flopped over the side of the couch, trying to come up with something to do. Diana found him like that, half hanging off the couch, asleep, with the news playing in the background. With a chuckle she silently creeped over to the side of the couch. With groceries in one hand, she grabbed Danny by the back of his shirt and lifted. He startled awake as she lifted him to eye level.

“You do know I’m not a cat, right?” She smiled

“Really? I couldn’t tell, you play the part so well.” She snarked back setting him back down on the couch. “I’ve got the ingredients for dinner, wanna help?” She asked.

Danny nodded, slowly rising from his place on the couch. “Sure, what’s for dinner?”

“Spaghetti, grab the cutting board and start cutting the onions for the sauce.” Danny grinned

“Aye, aye Captain!” He said with a laugh. He grabbed his tools and got to work. “So how were things at the museum?”

“Things are going steady, with the new exhibit up and running we are getting an influx of visitors. It’s nice seeing the younger generation taking an interest in history.” Danny paused

“By younger generation, do you mean my age or Mrs. Gertrude’s age?” He asked with a raised brow.

“Very funny, back to chopping you. Garlic is next.” Danny laughed but did as he was told. “Speaking of your age, you turned 16 recently right?” Danny nodded. “There’s a position open at the museum, it’s nothing to hard, just leading a few tours. It may not be your ideal way to spend your time, however it would give you a way to get out and make some friends before school starts. As a bonus, you’d be getting paid.” Danny slowed his dicing.

“It’s better than anything I’ve come up with. But… I don’t know, maybe?” Danny shrugged. “I’ll have to think it over. I’ve never had a real job before, mostly just helping out around the lab. What’s the job? ” Diana gave him a sly grin.

“No pressure, they’re looking for someone to help run the space show. Of course, if you aren’t interested…”

“I’d get to run the space show?!?!?” Danny interrupted “Scratch that, I’d be getting PAID to run the space show?!?!” His face was split in a giant grin. Diana laughed.

“You would be getting paid to HELP run the space show. That means assisting guests, answering questions, doing a bit of clean up and anything else Dr.Scott needs help with.” Danny was nearly vibrating with excitement. “The application is in my purse, which you can fill out After we finish making the sauce.” Danny grinned and got back to work. Between the two of them they managed to get the sauce on the stove in record time.

While the sauce cooked, Diana gave him the application and she walked him through his new information. As they were talking they were interrupted by the news announcing a break-in at a bank nearby. Nothing to draw Diana from helping Danny… until they announced that the perpetrator was Cheetah.

“Danny, I’m so sorry. I promise I won’t be gone long.” She apologized. Danny shrugged giving her an understanding look.

“It’s all good, I can’t t lol you how many times I had to tell run out on my friends because a ghost attacked. I’ll be here when you get back and dinner will be ready. Stay safe, okay?” And off she went. Danny finished up the application, excited at the prospect of getting to tell people about SPACE. Once he was done he turned up the news to see how Diana was doing.

He watched as she fought like a true warrior, no hesitation, not a single motion wasted. The way she interacted with Cheetah though…seemed oddly familiar. The back and forth… there was no way.

He pondered on the thought as he got up to start the pasta. There was no way, right? That seems like the kinda thing you tell someone. It was possible of course, but well... only thing to do is ask.

About a half hour after Danny's "epiphany" the spaghetti was done and Diana was walking through the door. Once the food was served, Diana poured herself a lovely cup of wine. Of course she did this not realizing how much of an utter gremlin her newly acquired cousin was. She had fully settled into her seat, taking her first sip of wine when Danny decided to confront her.

"Are you dating Cheetah?" Diana spit out her wine, coughing as she tried to clear her throat.

"I'm sorry, care to repeat that?" she asked

"I asked, are you dating Cheetah? It's fine if you are, no judgement here. I mean, Ancients know I have some crazy exs, and gender has never been an issue..." He stops as he takes in the look of confusion. "What?"

"How... exactly did you come to that... interesting conclusion?" She asked. Danny shrugged.

"Honestly just the way you guys were bantering. Reminded me a lot about how me and my ex fought, sure she didn't know we were fighting, but I did." He said with a straight face. Diana couldn't help it, she burst out laughing.

"No, cousin, I am not dating Cheetah. Though we were once close friends." she said with a smile.

"Oh, okay then." Danny blushed. "Sorry for assuming."

"All is well, I will admit that among the women of Themascyra such things are commonplace. I too am not bothered by gender." she smiled "Now come, eat your food. I will be bringing you to the museum tomorrow so you can turn in your application. I’ll even show you around where I work.”

“Sounds great! Can we stop by the space exhibit? I wanted to check it out even if I don’t get the job.”

Diana smiled “That should be fine, I don’t actually have work tomorrow so barring another alien invasion we should have the day to ourselves.” Danny nodded and started to take a bite of his spaghetti.

The fork was halfway to his mouth when he froze “What do you mean ANOTHER alien invasion?!”

———————

Danny was practically vibrating with excitement, the meeting with Dr. Scott had gone well, and Danny had to be physically dragged out of the space exhibit by Diana once he realized they had a full section with an interview from a real live Martian! Next on the list to do was checking out Diana's section of the museum, then they would get ice cream like civilized human beings.

As they approached her section the woman at the desk looked up with wide eyes.

"Why Diana what a handsome YOUNG man you've got here, what's your name sugar?" she proclaimed with an obvious wink. Danny blushed, while Diana laughed.

"This is my cousin Danny, I told you about him. Danny, this is Doris, the world's best receptionist, I don't know how I'd survive without her." She said with a smile.

"Oh I'm sure you'd soldier on somehow. How're you like'n the museum Danny? I hear your lookin to work with Dr. Scott." Danny grinned.

"It's great! I turned in my application today and we did an impromptu interview, which I think went pretty well. We were just headed over to check out Diana's new exhibit."

"Oh well don't let me hold you up. You enjoy yourself hun." she said with a smile. The two headed further into the exhibit as Diana explained what it was she did at the museum. The more they explored however the more Danny was quite clearly trying to keep the grin off his face. It wasn't until they were walking to the ice cream parlor that he explained the cause of his glee.

"I just can't get over the fact that you are an ancient greek demi-god, telling people about ancient greek mythos as though it was nothing more than a religion, y'know like a liar. You are being paid to lie." Diana raised an eyebrow.

"It's not technically a lie. Many people worshiped the gods and so it was in fact a religion, I simple choose to leave out the fact that they were real." Danny grinned.

"Agree to disagree, now let's get some ice cream." the two walked through the doors of the unsuspecting ice cream parlor and, after much debate, each ordered a whopping ten scoops of ice cream. Which they then proceeded to eat at one of the tables, in less than 15 minutes, with no visible signs of brain freeze.

(The girl behind the counter might having an existential crisis as this was after the teenage boy talked the fully grown woman out of fifteen scoops. They don't even have fifteen flavors!)

All in all it was a good day.

------------

Danny was not having a good day. He was slumped over the table in the break room as Diana patted him on the shoulder.

"Three tours in one morning, with two more after lunch! And every single one had a Jeremy!” Diana quirked an eyebrow.

“A Jeremy?” Danny nodded.

“That one kid who tries to climb on all the exhibits and refuses to stay with the group no matter how many times his chaperone scolds him.” Diana gave him a solemn pat on the back.

“I know of them well, though for me, they will always be Misty. Don’t worry though school will be starting soon and the tours will slow down a bit.”

The timer on Danny’s phone went off and he groaned, taking one last swig of his toxic sludge from his thermos he dragged himself out of his seat. "Yeah, yeah, but then I'll be going to work AND school. I'm so happy I dropped heroing in this world, I don't know how you find the time!" Diana shrugged "I'm gonna swing by the coffee shop in the geology section after work with Travis, you want anything." Diana thought for a minute.

"Call me when you get there, depending on the rest of the day I might get a Frappuccino or solid black coffee with three shots of espresso." Danny nodded.

"Ah yes, the nectar of the gods, you got it!" He said with a grin as he took off. Diana smiled, happy that Danny was finally making friends, before she threw away her trash and headed back to work.

-------------

By the time the end of their shift ended Danny had found a second wind. The last group of the day had been very well behaved with not a single Jeremy in sight, and all enthusiastic about SPACE! Travis was trudging along behind him in shock as he watched the teen who looked like he was going keel over not even an hour ago, seemed like he was about to start floating. He shook his head in disbeief.

"Danny, my man you are not human." He said not noticing Danny stiffen. "I wish I had your energy." Danny gave him a stiff laugh.

"What can I say? I just really love taking about space. I mean, considering the amount of known extraterrestrials currently active on earth! I can't understand how anyone could not be into space." Travis shrugged.

"Eh, it pays the bills at least." The two walked into the coffee shop, looking at the specials.

"Dude, you're 17, what bills do you have." Travis shrugged.

"I pay my phone bill, plus I'm saving up for my car." Danny nodded accepting the answer.

"Fair enough, hey you go ahead and order. I'm gonna call my cousin and see what she wants." Travis smirked.

"The hot cousin who runs the Greek exhibit? For her I will get all the coffee." Danny rolls his eyes as his phone began ringing.

"Calm down lover boy, she's way out of your league." a laugh sounded from the other end of the phone as Diana picked up. There was a slight commotion outside the café.

"And who is out of his league, exactly?" Diana asks, Danny smirks as Travis frantically shakes his head. Things started to get louder.

"Oh just this girl he's got a crush on, we're at the café. Did you decide what kind of day it is." Diana hummed on the other end, but before she could answer a security guard went flying down the hall. "What the hell!" he shouted. Danny ran over to the guard ready to help him up as Diana frantically tries to find out what happened. Before he can say anything though he feels a pressure against the back of his head.

"Look who's tryin to be a hero boys!" comes the shout from behind, Danny is roughly grabbed by his arm with a gun to his head. He started to shake as the attacker laughed. "Now we don't want any trouble y'hear? We're just gonna grab that pretty rock over there and be on our way."

Danny watches as the security guards point their guns at the thieves as the start to break down, a display on Dunite? Danny looks at the thieves confused. What could they possibly want with a fertilizer? Heck the only reason he even knew what is was is because he got bored waiting for his coffee! Danny flinches as the gunman pushes into his head harder.

"Not so brave now, huh kid?" he says with a smug tone. "This is what happens to heroes." he is practically shivering at this point as the gunman laughs. "Look at this! He's shaking in his shoes." Danny on the other hand has begun repeating a mantra in his head, practicing an inordinate amount of restraint.

'Don't break the human, don't break the human, Don't BREAk the HuMan!'

Danny clenches his fist in annoyance as the gunman continues to blather on about something called Kryptonite? and making his boss happy. He wasn't really paying that much attention, repeating his mantra over and over again. His concentration only broken by the gunman suddenly being jerked away. He turns around to find none other than his cousin standing behind him, sans glasses, in her full Wonder Woman armor with a rather angry look on her face.

It didn't take long for her to disarm and capture the criminals, with a quiet remark about a Frappuccino as she passed by Danny. She turned them over to the police before flying off, only to rush over to him minutes later frantic talking loudly about how worried she was. Travis ran to his side, shaking with fear.

"Are you okay man? What were you thinking! You could have been killed!" Danny gave him a sheepish grin.

"Honestly? I wasn't, sorry for scarring you dude." Diana put a hand on his shoulder.

"Danny? They need you to make a statement, you'll have to speak with security as well before we head home okay?" she asked in a soft tone as if he might break at any moment. And Danny might have believed the concern as well, if it weren't for the hidden mirth in her eyes. Danny nodded along saying bye to Travis before heading over to the police.

It was a full hour of telling the same story over and over again, to different groups before they finally let him go. As they walked out of the museum Danny drooped his shoulders. Diana wrapped an arm around him.

"I know you can handle yourself, grandfather told me that much, but are you okay? That was probably a bit upsetting." Danny groaned.

"That was embarrassing! I could take them all down in seconds, without even breaking a sweat if it weren't for one thing." Diana cocked her head to the side as Danny visibly deflated.

"Perhaps the fact that you don't want to be a hero?" Danny huffed,

"Well that and... you have to promise not to laugh." Danny said with pleading eyes, Diana used a finger to cross her heart in agreement. "I've... never actually fought a human before." Diana snorted "Hey! It's not funny! All my enemies were ghosts, none of which held back by the way. The ghost hunters always used ranged weapons or traps, no real need for confrontation!" he whispered harshly as they made their was down the sidewalk. Diana burst out laughing at Danny's expense.

"It's a little funny, you've got to admit it." Diana fought to calm herself. "If you'd like, I have plenty of experience fighting humans, I could give you some tips on not killing them on the first hit." Danny's eyes widened.

"Seriously?!?!?! That would be awesome! When can we start?!” Diana laughed as they approached their apartment.

"While I love your enthusiasm, I have a meeting with the team tonight, and I am responsible for monitor duty tomorrow morning." Danny frowned as they made their way through the lobby to the elevator. Once inside he spoke up.

"Aren't we supposed to be having dinner with gramps tonight? How's that gonna work out." Diana shrugged.

"I'm sure we'll find a way. I don't think he will accept an excuse of 'not enough time.' Speaking of which, you wouldn't happen to know what's on the menu, I may have a strong stomach but I think ectoplasm is a bit much."

Danny shrugged, "No idea, but it's not like he's gonna serve blob ghost stew or something. I'm sure he'll make something you can eat.

--------------

Clockwork looked away from the screen showing his grandchildren with a sigh. Slowly he took the pot filled with stew and set it aside...

Perhaps he should defer to the Lunch Lady's superior knowledge on this particular challenge.

@a-salty-sal@impulsiveasshole@meira-3919@alcorbearson@cute6troll@samgirl98@skulld3mort-1fan@addie-lover-of-stories@amercurio@chronicallyonline-fandomwh0r3 @heirxofxtime @gin2212 @thegatorsgoose@wanderer-of-worlds@terzatheunderscorerima@bright-shade@satanicrutialspecialist@mur-ururu@birdie-24-05@ascetic-orange@cyber-geist@thatrandomsarahchick@dr-syko-pharm-4@observerblock23@addie-lover-of-stories@rainybyday@berseid@pastalavistamf@ae-vixrose@sunflowershine03@theauthorandtheartist@ruelukas22@krzys2000@onlyhereforthechaos@stargirl1331@apointlessbox@mewzaque@distractedducky@cutelittlebeanie@unorthodoxdreamers @universallytacowolfbakery @joseph557@ver-444@icedbluesoul@shark-time@milo-l-l @spookytragedyshark@

I think I got everyone, here's a link to the Ao3 version as well

#dp x dc #wonderwoman #cousins #dp demi god au #Danny phantom #diana prince #clockwork #doris just wants to live vicariously through diana #poor clockwork #hes a good cook but he mostly works with ectoplasm these days #part 3

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skbeaumont · 11 days

Text

Texas Heat | Joel x Reader

Chapter 2: Same time next week?

Series masterlist Chapter 1 here

Chp. 2 summary: Your first tutoring session with Sarah goes as expected, until Joel gets home and sends your head spinning. Rating: Teen (for now) Tags/Warnings: flirting, sexual tension, age difference (reader is 25, Joel is 37), AU no outbreak Word Count: 2.4k A/N: Blown away by the response to my posts so far, thank you all so much! This story will be updated every Friday unless otherwise specified. Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist for this and others.

Taglist: @mysterialee

The next couple of days pass by in a flurry of jetlag. The Adlers are nice: Easy to get on with, friendly but not in a way that makes you feel like you’re living on top of them. Connie’s cooking is good, if a little repetitive, and Danny is sweet and makes you laugh, telling you stories about his youth living in Austin. Nana doesn’t speak, but she has your mum’s eyes, and you spend the evenings sitting by her in the living room, reading the stack of novels you brought with you, enjoying the easy company and warm sunlight.

You see Joel outside through the window one early morning, casually ask Connie about him as you watch him load toolboxes and ladders into the bed of his truck. One kid, Sarah, a brother who lives with him, most of the time, no wife. This last shouldn’t send a spike of something like excitement down the back of your spine, but it does. You’d just assumed he was married when he’d told you about Sarah – no wedding ring, but working in construction, that made sense.

The knowledge that there isn’t a Mrs Miller makes you re-evaluate the car journey back from the airport, the way he’d let his arm rest along the back of your seat, that teasing, mischievous glint in his eye as he’d said goodbye, promising to take you up on your offer of maths lessons for Sarah. Those thoughts keep you up late that night, pressing your thighs together beneath the thin cotton top sheet in the Adler’s guest room.

Early Sunday evening you bump into Sarah in the driveway when you get back from Walmart, equipped with a new US sim card for your mobile. She’s sweet, even prettier in real life than in the photo you saw, not at all shy like you were when you were her age.

“Dad said you’re good at math,” she says without preamble, appearing from the side of Joel’s truck, looking at you with a sideways expression that’s a mix of consideration and incredulity.

“Pretty good, yeah.” You reply, stomach jolting at the thought of Joel talking about you, even if it’s to say something as benign as how talented you are at maths. “I’d be happy to help you out with homework, or whatever, if you want. I promise I’ll try not to make it too boring.”

Sarah smiles at this, the incredulity in her face morphing into approval, or as close to approval a thirteen year old can manage.

“You coming, Sarah?” Joel says, stepping out of the front door, head down as he examines something on the phone he’s holding. “Oh,” he says, looking up and seeing you, “hey.”

“Hi.”

He’s dressed the same as he was when he picked you up from the airport; dark t-shirt over faded jeans, the knees a little worn, but he’s wearing a baseball cap today, pulling his messy curls back from his forehead. You feel a blush inching up your neck as he so obviously tries to avoid checking you out in the tiny shorts you pulled on that morning.

“How are you settling in?” He asks, moving to stand next to Sarah by the truck.

He crosses his arms against his chest and the movement draws your eyes to his biceps, struggling against the tight sleeves of his tee. There’s a thin slither of a tan line just above where his shirt naturally falls, paler skin peeking out. It makes your head swim.

You clear you throat, refocus your eyes on his face.

“Good, I think. It’s a big change, but it’s nice. Hot, though.”

“Texan summers.” He replies, “Take a bit of getting used to if you ain’t suffered through one before.”

“I’ll say.”

“Sarah’s keen on those lessons, by the way.” He puts a hand on the girl’s shoulder, shakes her about so that she giggles. “Here,” He pulls out his mobile. “You got a US number yet?”

“Just picked up a new sim, actually” You pull your own mobile out, read off your number to him so that he can put it into his phone.

“I’ll text you later on,” He says, “we’re just heading out now.”

You say your goodbyes and leave the sweltering heat of the driveway, listening to Joel’s truck start up and pull off. Inside, Mercy greets you, rests her head on your knee as you collapse onto the sofa, clutching your mobile to your chest.

True to his word, Joel texts later that evening as you’re getting ready for bed.

Glad ur settling in ok. Would Tuesday work for math with Sarah? She gets back from school around 4. Joel.

You type out several draft replies before finally sending one that matches his straight-to-the-point tone.

Thanks. Tuesday works for me. See you then.

His response doesn’t arrive until the next morning, and when it does, your stomach sinks.

Sounds great. Will just be Sarah though, I’m working late Tuesday.

It’s almost embarrassing how disappointed you are by those last four words. In your head, it had been you, Sarah and Joel around their kitchen table, Joel’s toned forearms resting on warped wood, his deep chuckle in your ear as you worked through maths problems with Sarah. This makes you feel guilty, of course, because the whole point of this exercise is helping Sarah with her maths homework, not flirting with her father.

You fall back against the pillows of your bed. Around you, the room is already starting to feel a little like home. All of your toiletries are stacked up on the dressing table, and you’ve put your clothes away into the generous walk-in closet. Your books are scattered about the room, a few on the bedside table, another pile of them next to the full length mirror. The bed sheets are cool when you slip beneath them, bare legs sliding against soft cotton.

You stare at the green-grey light of your Nokia, looking at the last text from Joel, wondering if you should reply or just leave it. Best to play it cool, you decide, but restraint’s never been your strong suit and before you can stop yourself you’re typing out a reply, hitting the send button and grinning into the pillowcase.

That’s a shame. I was looking forward to testing your addition skills.

He doesn’t reply.

*****

Tuesday rolls around, bringing unrelenting sun and a dry heat that keeps you indoors most of the day. You help Connie rearrange her DVDs – an impressive collection – and take Nana out onto the porch in the early afternoon, waiting for Sarah to get home from school.

It’s just before four when she appears at the end of the cul-de-sac, hair bouncing around her shoulders as she makes her way towards you. She’s got her school bag slung over one shoulder, jeans rolled up at the ankles, a pair of scruffy Nikes on her feet.

“Hi, Nana, Connie,” she calls as she approaches the porch, gaze turning to you, “math whizz,” she finishes, grinning.

“Hi yourself,” you return, pushing yourself out of the deckchair, brushing crumbs off of your bare legs. You say a quick bye to the Adlers and follow Sarah up her own driveway and into the cool, still air of the Miller’s kitchen.

It’s a little disorderly: there are pots scattered on the kitchen sides, and a menagerie of clutter on the table which sits under a window, bright afternoon sunlight streaming in. Sarah dumps her school bag on this, pushes a notepad, two tape measures and a pair of mugs out of the way so that you can sit beside her.

“Okay,” she says, drawing out an exercise book and placing it in front of her, “before we get into this I need you to understand that math is my weakest subject.”

“Right,” You say, watching her serious expression as she pushes the book across the table towards you, “understood.”

“And you need to promise me you won’t judge me based solely on my algebra skills, or lack of them.”

This makes you laugh, a chuckle bubbling up out of your throat. Sarah holds your gaze, her face still serious.

“Sorry,” you say, “I mean to say, I would never judge anyone based on their maths skills.”

Sarah’s face breaks into a grin. “I’m just messing with you.” She says, laughing at the look on your face. “I am pretty bad at algebra, though.”

She’s not. You work through a dozen or so exercises, helping her when she gets stuck, showing her where she’s going wrong, but she’s actually fairly good at the calculations once you’ve explained it to her a couple of times. The afternoon goes by quickly. After two hours or so Sarah stretches in her chair, yawning.

“You wanna stay for dinner?” She asks, pushing the exercise book away from her. “It’s just leftover chicken casserole, but there’s enough if you want some.”

“Oh, uh, sure.”

You sit by as she reheats the casserole, refusing your offers of help. Instead, you look around the rest of the room, searching out little hints of Joel that are tucked about: A pair of worn leather sandals by the back door, two plaid shirts hanging on the back of the door to the living room, a battered, dog-eared copy of a drill instruction manual, well-read and ringed with coffee stains.

It’s comfortingly domestic, and it makes your chest ache a little, thinking of your mum back home in London, all the friends and familiarity you left behind. Then Sarah’s placing a hot plate of casserole in front of you, joking about the fact that you don’t look very much like a mathematician, by which she means you don’t resemble Albert Einstein.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” You tell her, and she smiles.

“You should. You’re much prettier than he was.”

You help Sarah do the dishes, stacking them neatly on the side to be put away later. After, Sarah asks if you want to stay and watch a movie, and you both spread yourselves out on the sofa in the Miller’s living room, flick on the television and watch Tim Allen and Sigourney Weaver mess about in outer space.

Sarah falls asleep before the film ends, even though the sun hasn’t fully set and its barely ten. You’re debating waking her when there’s a rattling from the kitchen and the sound of the front door creaking open. Joel.

You hear him clear his throat, scrape his boots on the door mat and then his deep voice is cutting through the silence of the house. “Sarah? You still up, baby?”

Sarah shifts where she’s asleep next to you but doesn’t stir. You push yourself off the sofa, step into the kitchen. Joel’s pulling off a toolbelt from around his waist, thick fingers unbuckling the clasp in a way that makes your heart rate jump up.

“Hey,” You say, leaning against the doorframe.

He jumps, his eyes shooting up to you before recognition softens his gaze.

“Hi,” He replies, finally working the toolbelt off and letting it drop onto the worktop beside him, “I didn’t expect you to still be here. Everything alright?”

“Oh, yeah, fine. Sarah made me dinner and we watched a movie. Well, she fell asleep.”

Joel chuckles at this, rolling his eyes, “Yeah, she has a habit of doin’ that.”

“Work okay?” You ask, thinking you should probably leave him to a restful evening, not wanting to at all.

“Long,” He says, rubbing at the coarse stubble on the side of his jaw. “How did math go?”

“Good. She’s bright, just needed a little bit of guidance with it.”

“Always been switched on. Dunno where she gets it from.” He steps around the kitchen island, rolling his jacket down off of his shoulders as he goes, narrow hips winding around the island and the fridge toward you.

He pulls a ten dollar note out of his back pocket, hands it to you between two thick, calloused fingers. “For the lesson,” He says.

“You don’t have to, Joel, honestly.”

“S’only fair, darlin’” He proffers the note again and you take it, trying not to think about the way that casual darlin’ has gone straight to your head, blood rushing to your cheeks so that they feel like they’re on fire.

“She in there?” Joel asks then, nodding behind you to the lounge. “Oh, yeah,” You turn, let Joel look past you into the darkness of the living room, where Sarah is spread out on the sofa, breathing deeply, eyes flickering in the dull light from the paused DVD.

As he leans into the room he steps toward you, the movement bringing him distractingly close, making you notice how much taller he is than you, how much broader. The t-shirt he’s wearing is stretched almost painfully across his shoulders, wear showing in the stressed seams. The patchy stubble at his jaw is longer than it was a few days ago, covering the sharpness of his jaw, the strong lines of his throat.

He looks away from Sarah’s form on the sofa then, his dark eyes flicking over your face, catching you watching him. You feel a blush creeping along your neck and up to your cheeks, and try to look away, but he’s holding your gaze, pupils wide in the dim light. Then his eyes dip down to your lips, follow the slight movement of your tongue as it worries at the edge of your mouth.

You can feel heat rolling off of him in waves and you wonder how it would be to push yourself up onto tip-toes and kiss the corner of his plush lower lip. This close, you can see the thin creases that line his eyes, the beginnings of grey in his dark eyebrows, raised slightly and pinching in the middle as he looks at you.

Your head is tilted up, your breath mingling in the dizzyingly narrow space between you. He clears his throat. You both realise, quite suddenly, how close you’re standing. Before you can say anything he’s moving back, tension breaking as he takes the white-hot heat of his body with him, leaving you flushed and dizzy.

“I should get Sarah to bed.” He says into the silence.

There’s a flush in his tanned face, painting his cheeks a deep red-brown, evidence that you aren’t alone in your distraction, in the surge of arousal that seems to be lighting you up from the inside. He runs a hand through already dishevelled hair.

“Right,” you reply, hoping he can’t hear the quaver in your throat, “I should head home.”

Outside, you rest for a moment against the wall next to the Adler’s front door.

Your heart is still thumping in your chest, each beat a reminder of the look in Joel’s eyes as he towered over you, his breath hot on your face, pupils blown wide because of the darkness, or maybe something else.

Before you get inside, your phone buzzes. The text is from Joel.

Same time next week?

You grin at the screen.

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller au #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfic #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #AU!no outbreak

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mokulule · 1 year

Text

The Number You Have Called Cannot Be Reached 5

Part 1|Part 2|Part 3|Part 4

So I've been having a week and I decided I needed a pick-me-up in the form of unleashing some angst on you all, so sorry to those who wanted me not to skip ahead a bit, you'll get the full story on AO3.

Ship: Dead on Main (Danny/Jason) Warnings: angst/depression and canon typical violence

For a bit of context since I'm skipping a small part, this is the second day after the first chapter, Jason is still feeling good and having another good pit-less day.

Danny breathed a sigh of relief as he exited the W-Mart unmolested. His backpack was heavy with its load of stolen protein bars and trail mix. He’d so far not had to return to the same store twice, but this one was in the roughest neighborhood he’d visited so far and he’d felt sure even if nobody saw him steal anything that he’d be stopped. There had definitely been some suspicious looks directed towards him from the staff.

Now he just had to find a nice hidden nook to disappear from so he didn’t alert anyone. Couldn’t have people start talking about someone disappearing into thin air. Pulling his hood up he started walking along the sidewalk in a random direction eyes lowered so he hopefully wouldn’t piss anyone off by making eye contact. This did not seem like a part of the city he wanted to make eye contact with anyone in. With his rotten luck any thugs would find his face just as offensive as Dash always seemed to do.

His breath caught cold in his throat and he froze mid step. His head snapped up instantly locking on the other ghost, no the not-ghost, the man, the one with red helmet, except he wasn’t wearing a helmet now. He stood there, still like Danny in the sea of moving people, black hair except for a white streak at the front, strong jawline, his eyes were blue - wide in recognition. Shit! He had to leave!

Friend, his core sang insistently. He completed the step forward. That red T-shirt under the open leather jacket looked so soft. No stiff body armor today, just soft cotton, he could just curl up there-

Danny gasped, eyes blown wide. He shook his head, he needed, he needed to get away. Now. Now body! He wasn’t moving. He wanted, he wanted so badly to move forward, his core promised him friend and safety and connection. He just had to go to the other ghost. He was so tired of being alone, he couldn’t last like this. But he was wrong. His core was wrong. That wasn’t a ghost. That was a man, a man of flesh and bone and warmth and touch and- STOP!

His fingers gripped into his hair painfully. Good, grounding. Breathe in, two, three, out… slow and steady, he could do that.

A hand entered his field of vision.

“Hey…” the voice was soft, softer than the voice that had come out of the helmet, but Danny knew, knew in his core, this was the man, the ghost, not-ghost- the hand came closer.

He bolted.

“Hey!”

Danny didn’t look back, he just ran. He weaved between protesting people. His broken ribs hurt with every deep breath, with every jolt of his shoes hitting the pavement; a reminder that this was not a friend, just another one of the vigilantes.

Something grabbed his backpack and he came to a dead stop, hanging from the worn straps for one heart stopping second as he was pulled backwards off balance.

“Will you stop for a moment!” The voice growled.

Danny met the other’s angry eyes and for just a fraction of a second, he could have sworn they were green not blue, then his instincts kicked in and he turned intangible, sinking through his backpack straps and into the ground.

Danny shivered, holding on to himself, staying just under the pavement. Boots pounded restlessly above him as the other man paced. He could not hear the curses he was spilling, but the tone of voice came through even muffled.

This was for the best. He dared not contemplate what would happen to him should he actually get captured.

Even so he couldn’t help the mournful call of his core. A call that wouldn’t be answered.

Because that man was not a ghost.

Oo o oO

Jason paced angrily, cursing up a storm. He’d had him right there. And still he’d slipped away. Frustration crawled under his skin like bugs. He snarled and looked at the worn purple backpack in his arms. It was old, and bore the evidence of multiple more or less successful repair jobs. Parts of the fabric were singe, and there were dark stains in places that could have been from any number sources, Jason suspected blood was one of them.

The thought set off another round of pacing and cursing. It didn’t help any that he felt sure the Ghost was still close. As if he could just reach out and grab him and stop that bone chilling sadness he felt. He had been so close.

A growl of frustration rose in his chest. He stopped and took a deep breath. Anger wasn’t helping him. He had to think. There could be some identifying information in the backpack. Juggling it up into his arms he unzipped it so he could look inside.

He froze.

He had noticed it was full, but this was not what he expected to find.

Jason slammed the backpack down on the console in front of Bruce - he wasn’t sure how he got to the cave, it didn’t matter. Bruce, dressed like he’d just been sneaking some work in before having to go golfing or something similarly inane, looked from the veritable mountain of protein bars spilling out of the worn bag to Jason looming above him. He leaned back in the chair and raised an eyebrow in question, unfazed always so unfazed.

“He’s not a villain, Bruce, he needs help,” he growled, his helmet darkened his voice, but also masked the way it shook. The Ghost haunted him; hollow eyed, shaking and panicked, with clothes that hung loose on his thin frame and this, now this. Jason paced. If this was all he ate…

Bruce leaned over examining the backpack, he was frowning. Jason hated when he frowned like that: disapproval. Always disapproving, never good enough. His fists clenched.

“This belongs to the thief?”

Of course it belonged to the thief! Was he being willfully stupid? Some Worlds Greatest Detective.

“He needs help,” Jason insisted.

Bruce carefully turned the chair to face him, calculating, judging. Jason forced himself to stand still.

“It’s very possible,” Batman finally spoke, “but we can’t dismiss the idea that he’s working for someone.”

Dismissal. It felt like a slap. Why was he always like that? Why couldn’t he trust him for once? No Batman always knew best, always had to be right. Always so goddamn rightful.

“Jay-“ the voice was soft, worried.

Jason blinked, and suddenly noticed the green reflected on the inside of his helmet. In another blink it was gone, and he saw his hands gripped in Bruce’s soft creme sweater where he’d pulled him to his feet, to do what? He didn’t know. He’d just… He’d just been so angry.

“Jaylad, are you okay?” Bruce’s hands were raised in surrender, not touching, not defending.

Jason looked from Bruce’s worried face, to his hands still holding on. He gasped and let go, took a step back. No- the pits, he hadn’t even noticed they’d creeped back in. He’d lost time. He didn’t know how he’d gotten here. Had he done more than pull at Bruce? He desperately searched Bruce’s concerned face for more signs of violence.

He’s not actually worried, he’s manipulating you, the voices whispered at him. He slammed them down, but it was hard. He felt drained. He couldn’t be there, he couldn’t trust himself. He stumbled backwards, avoiding Bruce’s hands. Turning he saw his bike; at least that was one question answered, he thought hysterically.

Bruce didn’t stop him when he fled. Why would he? Disappointment, always a disappointment.

Masterlist for subscription

#dead on main #dp x dc #Jason is catnip to Danny #missed connections #Danny and Jason both have a habit of running away from their problems #Let Jason hug you Danny #You will feel better #he will feel better #everyone will be happy #angst #sorry not sorry

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clockwayswrites · 9 months

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Danny/Jason, Blue, Sunflowers

@moons-cat CW: implied future smut T

“Someone turn off the sun.”

“You love the sun,” Jason mumbled, face pressed into the back of Danny’s neck. It turned out, assuming it wasn’t aggravatingly hot, Jason was a koala in his sleep.

Danny didn’t mind. What he did mind was the light streaming through the window that they had failed to close the shade on last night when they had collapsed, exhausted from a drug bust, in bed. “Do not. Hate the sun. Stupid light.”

“It’s a star, Danny, of course you love the sun,” Jason said and started to untangle their jumble of legs.

Danny hated that Jason was right.

“I hate that you’re right,” he said as he stretched, enjoying the chance to run his foot down Jason’s leg.

“I know,” Jason simply said, the insufferable man. He slipped his hand under where Danny’s shirt had rucked up during the night.

Danny gave a pleased hum, arching into the touch. “You could go close the shade.”

“So could you,” Jason said, flicking Danny’s nose.

Taking advantage of the moment, Danny ran his tongue down Jason’s finger, kissing the tip of it with a pop. He watched as Jason’s eyes darkened. Danny smirked. “Or you could get up and close the shade so we don’t accidentally give our neighbors a show.”

“I hate that you’re right,” Jason said with a sigh as he crawled out of bed.

“I know,” Danny said with a laugh.

He bet after he could convince Jason to fall back asleep in the nice, dark room.

Did some prompts, here is the masterpost.

#dp x dc #dead on main #prompalomp

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thestarsofpines · 2 months

Text

another wip of the same fic as here. because i will burst if i don't share a little.

The room is nice.

On the bed there is a change of clothes, presumably something for Danny to wear tomorrow as he’s already dressed in just a loose t-shirt and what he can only guess are some kind of men’s yoga pants. They’re comfy, and perfectly fine to sleep in.

In the bathroom there’s a new toothbrush and toothpaste. Danny wastes little time in using both, eager to get the residual taste of stomach acid out of his mouth. He’s surprised at how much he’s been sick today, usually it’s not as bad. Probably stress; and calling today stressful is generous at best. As he finishes rinsing his mouth, he debates taking a shower, seeing as it too is stocked with toiletries. He decides against it. He’ll shower in the morning.

He exits the bathroom and crosses the floor to lock the door to the room; it’s the first time he’s been able to lock where he sleeps in two months.

It’s nice.

It’s as he lays down that he lets the spiraling mess of his feelings wash over him. He’s panicked that he’s already revealed that he’s not normal. He’s confused that they didn’t immediately demand answers after all the other questions they had no problems asking. He’s scared that they’re just waiting for him to fall asleep and will ambush him as soon as he’s out (and do what? he’s not sure.) He’s conflicted, because he’s so, so glad to have gotten to see Damian again, and Alfred seems so genuinely unafraid of him and kind. But he saw the panicked look on everyone’s faces at his slip up; he hates that he doesn’t know what they mean.

Danny’s also just so, so tired.

And the bed is comfortable. He turns to look at the nightstand and blinks at the time displayed on a small, digital alarm clock. Two twenty-seven AM. He’s been up since six the previous day.

He makes quick work of fiddling with the clock until he finds the option to set an alarm for seven AM. Hopefully that’s early enough that no one comes barging through the door.

(It’s locked, he reminds himself; though when had that ever been enough to stop his parents from-)

Danny closes his eyes and takes a breath.

He sets the clock back down on the nightstand and stands to move the clothes for tomorrow to a dresser on the other side of the room. He quickly takes off the t-shirt to remove his binder, places it next to the folded clothes and shivers as he slips the shirt back on. Then he’s back by the bed, pulling back the comforter and sheets on the bed and sliding himself underneath them. They’re soft too, feeling like silk compared to what he was used to.

Yeah, the room is really nice.

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc au #demon twin au #damian and danny are twins #the document has grown to 84 pages as i draft the outline for a full fic #it was not my original intention but this is really fun #it's making me happy #my writing #my wips #my stuff #trans danny

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6rookie-writer0110 · 8 months

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Let's talk on the phone

Avengers Cast x Male Reader

Request - Ok so can I request avengers cast x Male Reader R has worked with all the avengers cast before and has played as the love interest of them in different movies but he finally debuts as Danny Ketch Ghost Rider in doctor Strange 2 (I haven't seen it but let's say he makes a cameo) and the fans are loving him and are going crazy when it's announced his also gonna get his show that's gonna ma15+ and when Marvel release the trailer for R's ghost rider show all the fans are going crazy.

You are at Comic-con with the Avengers cast. They are answering questions from the fans and talking about upcoming projects. You are sitting between Elizabeth Olsen and Benedict Cumberbatch, you get along with everyone. A fan asked you a question...

“Hi, Y/n. Umm is it true, you did other movies with everyone from the Avengers?” She asked.

“Yes, that is true. With Cobie Smulders, I played her cheating husband, then with Elizabeth Olsen, I played her boyfriend in a time period movie. Then I played Scarlett Johansson’s husband in a movie but I died. But I did work with everyone in the Marvel cast” You smiled.

“Today, we will show a cameo that is what is expected in Doctor Strange 2,. So here is the first look of Danny Ketch, also known as Ghost Rider,” Sam Raimi said.

The lights get dim. The video starts to play Scarlet Witch fighting Doctor Strange, but they stopped because they hear someone…

“Is your friend?” Doctor Strange asked.

Ghost Rider is on his motorcycle and he gets off the motorcycle. Then Ghost Rider takes out the whip.

“No. But I don't care I will fight you or him” Scarlet Witch said.

“Avengers? Fantastic Four? X-Dudes? They can all kiss my bony, flammable ass." You said.

Ghost Rider was about to fight then the video stopped.

“Ghost Rider will be played by Y/n. And Ghost Rider will get his own series and will be rated as mature” Sam Raimi said.

Everyone starts to cheer then Elizabeth hugged you. Fans started to ask questions about Ghost Rider and you answer each question.

After the Q&A, you took pictures with fans and signed autographs. Then you take a break with Benedict.

“Everyone seems to be happy that you will be Ghost Rider,” Benedict said.

“I’m just this time Ghost Rider will be accurate like in the comic books. If he wasn't accurate then I would have given up on the role. The fans did like the cameo and I'm happy about that. Plus we are going to get to see a different side of Danny, but that goes along with the storyline like in the comics” You said.

“I’m guessing, Ghost Rider is your favorite hero?” Benedict said.

“Good guess, but yeah. Since I was a kid, Ghost Rider has been my favorite. I have action figures and comic books. Anything related to him, I would buy it” You said.

“I know you will do great as Ghost Rider. Can't wait to keep working with you” Benedict said.

“Thanks” You smiled.

✯ ✫ ✯ ✫

Weeks Later… you have been doing interviews for your role as Ghost Rider. The fans are liking the outfit and Ghost Rider’s form. You are doing an interview with the cast

“Is Ghost Rider going to meet the Avengers?” the host asked.

“Yes, but not in a nice way. All I can say is that he will not follow Steve Rogers's rules” You said.

“I had to film a few scenes with him and Scarlett. We think the fans will like how our characters meet” Chris said.

“The fans can't wait to see that. Y/n, have you always been a fan of Ghost Rider or have you found out recently who he is?” the host said.

“I have always been a nerd when it comes to Ghost Rider. He is my favorite character and I'm glad the movie and the show will be accurate to his storyline” You smiled.

“He has told me many Ghost Rider facts that I didn't know. For his birthday, I got him a Ghost Rider poster and t-shirt, and he stop smiling about it” Scarlett said.

“That was a cool gift” You smiled.

Much later, you went out with the cast to eat. Some fans did take pictures with you then you signed a few autographs.

——

You are on set filming for the Ghost Rider show. You took a selfie with Elizabeth, Chris Evans, and Scarlett Johanson, and it was posted online. Everyone is liking the outfit of Ghost Rider. In the picture, you have on the jacket and you have the chains around you.

#avengers cast x reader #avengers cast imagine #Avengers Cast x male reader #x male reader #male!reader #male reader

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slutforsilverfoxes · 10 months

Text

Mr. Fix It

For a man who refuses to don a hat unless he’s in uniform, Steven J. McGarrett sure wears a lot of them. A decorated Navy SEAL, leader of the governor’s task force, expert pilot, sport pro, amateur (although he’d argue with you on that) mechanic, occasional ukulele player, son, brother, friend, uncle, husband, dog dad, and now race car-bed-putter-together. The man’s talents clearly know no bounds.

Leaning against the doorway of Charlie’s bedroom in Danny’s house, you can’t help but admire the view before you. Your husband has traded in his usual cargo pants and t-shirt for a pair of form fitting jeans that hug his lower half in all the right places and a plaid button up that shows off his muscular back and arms. A tool belt is slung low across his hips, and a few dirty jokes featuring the hammer and screwdriver tucked into their designated slots pop into your head unbidden. Steve slides the pencil out from behind his ear to make a mark on the wood, then grips the writing implement between his teeth to free up his hands. That draws your attention to the scruff currently dotting his cheeks and the sexy patch of gray along his chin that’s been steadily growing with every birthday that passes. He bends over to fit two pieces of the bed frame together, and your promise to Danny to not fool around in his house is suddenly dangerously close to being broken.

Passing Steve on your way to collect more wallpaper, you gather two handfuls of denim in a firm squeeze and appreciatively murmur, “Nice ass, stud.”

Your husband lets out an amused grunt, straightening up to his full height and tucking the pencil back in its rightful spot before turning to you with one eyebrow raised. “What was that, you cheeky little brat? Huh? You objectifying me again?”

“I said,” you emphasize as you climb the ladder with your next few feet of racing stripe wallpaper, “that’s a nice brass stud!”

“Yeah, okay,” Steve says, eyes twinkling with mirth. “Hey, lemme ask you something.”

“Yeah?”

“You think Danno could fit in this bed, too?”

You turn to your husband, trying and failing to bite back your laughter. “You’re objectively the worst. And I’m telling him you said-”

Steve’s phone ringing interrupts your threat, and he brandishes his cell with a playful grin. “Speak of the Jersey devil.” He answers the phone, the smile melting off his face at whatever he’s hearing on the other end. After a few tense moments, he ends the call and then walks up to you on the ladder with a sigh.

“Duty calls?” you ask knowingly.

“Sorry, baby,” he pouts, leaning up to kiss you three times for I love you.

“Don’t get hurt, Steve!” you call to his retreating form down the hallway, getting a confident, “I won’t!” in response.

“I’m serious,” you yell louder as his footsteps grow quieter. “You’ve reached your allotted hospital visits for the month!”

__________

Later that night, you find yourself in the same position as this morning at the entrance to Charlie’s room, this time admiring the way the space has transformed into a little boy’s dream and enjoying the Indy 500 animatedly playing out before you.

“…and the crowd goes wild,” your husband declares, whisper-yelling cheers as Charlie grins proudly beside him. Steve tucks a victorious Charlie into bed before smoothing the little tyke’s hair down and pressing his lips to his forehead with a quiet, “I love you, buddy.” He joins you in the doorway, and your heart swells at Charlie’s voice sleepily calling out, “Goodnight, Uncle Steve! Goodnight, Auntie!”

“Goodnight, bubba, we love you,” you respond softly, flicking off the light switch and leaving only the glowing CHARLIE’S ROOM on the opposite wall as a nightlight.

“Hey, race you in the morning?” Steve asks, head tilted in question. Charlie nods enthusiastically and his uncle reciprocates his excitement with a resounding, “Boom.”

Steve pulls the door shut behind you, and as you make your way down the hallway, you wrap your arms around his waist and lean into his solid form. “Should we make one?”

Your husband looks down at you, one eyebrow raised, and squeezes your hip. “You want a little race car bed, too?”

“Steve-” you groan, but he carries on with, “I mean, sure, but I’ll smoke your ass every time, babe.”

Laughing, you grip his face in one hand and smush his cheeks together until his nose scrunches up from a smile. “No, you doofus,” you correct him, “I meant should we start trying? Make a mini you?”

Steve’s eyes shine with adoration, and he shifts your hand to his mouth to press kisses against your palm. “You want to have a baby?”

“I think being a daddy would suit you well, Commander,” you purr, trailing your fingers down the sliver of skin peeking between the open buttons of his plaid shirt.

“That turn you on?” your husband teases in turn, taking note of the glint in your eye.

“I mean…” You trail off, looking up at him with a suggestive smirk. Using the collar of his shirt as leverage, you tug him closer and confess, “Uncle Steve with his kiddos is a hottie, don’t get me wrong, but Daddy Steve? One baby tucked up in each of those arms?” Your hands glide along his muscular biceps and you let out a hum of appreciation.

Steve’s eyes go wide, and he stills your wandering hands. “Woah there, two? At the same time?”

“Well, we can’t have one of your biceps getting bigger than the other,” you clarify. “You’d look dumb.”

“Oh, of course, of course,” he acquiesces, nodding. “You really want twins?”

“Steve,” you tut. “Don’t tell me the big bad Navy SEAL is afraid of dealing with two tiny humans.”

“I’m not afraid, I’m just, y’know- one is- is a lot already. Joanie could be a handful, so think about two of ‘em, two at the same time would be-”

“Hey,” you cut off his rambling, pulling him down to your level for a sound kiss. “How ‘bout we go home and get some practice in, and we’ll talk more about this tomorrow?” Steve’s hands glide down your body until they settle on your backside with a firm grip, and you take that as a yes. Pressing your lips to his again, you murmur, “Sound like a plan, McGarrett?”

He fixes you with a devilish grin in response. “Hooyah.”

__________

[A/N: I 👏🏽 love 👏🏽 this 👏🏽 man 👏🏽👏🏽👏🏽 My McGarrett obsession is somehow reaching dangerous new heights sos 🥵 And the thought of Daddy™️ as a daddy? Jesus take the wheel]

#7x23 #i love this scene #this episode always makes me feral #he looks so fine #i want to bite him #steve mcgarrett #steve mcgarrett fanfiction #steve mcgarrett imagine #steve mcgarrett x reader #steve mcgarrett x y/n #steve mcgarrett x you #steve mcgarrett x female reader #hawaii five 0 #hawaii five 0 imagine #hawaii five o imagine

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monzamash · 1 year

Note

ooh boy, no36 w/Daniel?? 😳

36. “you sent me pictures of you naked while i was in a work meeting!” rating – mature (sexual references, mentions of nudity, coarse language) word count – 1.1k a/n – i went smut free on this one and made it a little less shouty because i can't imagine a world where danny ric would be angry about a cheeky nude. js xo masterlist

You were bored. Dying behind the eyes kind of bored. And it was raining in London, torrential so everything you would normally do to cure the boredom, like take your pups out for a walk or pop down to the café on the corner for a coffee were a no-go. To make matters worse, Daniel had sworn he’d be home by 2pm, promising to pick up food and your favourite flavour of ice cream too.

It was nearly 6 now and pitch dark outside, street lights bellowing into your lounge room. You hadn’t so much as heard a peep from him since he left you in bed this morning, begging for him to stay curled up under the warm sheets with you. The same frown on your face that you had when he kissed you goodbye, unintentionally leaving you high and dry because he was running late had reappeared. He was ghosting you.

Ignoring your wife is rude. You typed, fingertips hovering over the send button before a mischievous though intrusively broke through.

You were up like a shot, tossing the orange texas state t-shirt that you’d stolen from Daniel on the floor and posing in front of your bathroom mirror. The photos weren’t too scandalous, just a tasteful mix of come hither and this is what you’re missing out on with the beauty lighting smoothing out all the shadows. And if Daniel were so miserably caught up at work then maybe this would be a nice distraction, you thought as you pressed send, nervously awaiting a response.

Being needy wasn’t really you. In fact, the reason your marriage worked so well was because both of you were independent, happily travelling through life waiting for the other patiently. That was the type of love you had and cherished with every part of your being. But when Daniel was home, so close you could reach out and grab him, you wanted him with you every second of every day. Maybe it was because you didn’t want to waste a second of the time you had together, or if you let go for too long he’d disappear again. You weren’t sure what possessed you when you sent that message and those photos and Daniel definitely didn’t expect it when he opened your message and saw you, perky, needy and fully naked.

Fuck. He coughed and quickly closed his phone, hoping Michael hadn’t glanced over but knowing his audible gasp probably caught the attention of everyone in the room.

“Yo, was that…?”

“Was what?” Daniel snapped wide-eyed, shoving his phone into his pocket and staring his best mate down. The deer in headlights expression on Michael’s face confirmed to Daniel that he definitely knew better than to comment on whatever he just saw.

Michael shook his head and averted his eyes to the laptop in front of him, “Nothing, mate.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Daniel grumbled, maddened but internally thanking his lucky stars that it was Michael who saw the pictures and not one of the other ten dudes in the room. At least he knew that he wouldn’t mention it again, respecting you too much to pay it any mind and knowing if he did, Daniel would throttle him. A young lad from the engineering team probably wouldn't have been so generous with his discretion, especially when you looked like that.

The meeting finished up not long after your lewd text came through, Daniel’s mind officially turned to mush as he packed up and bided everyone goodbye. As furious as he was about you interrupting such an important meeting and getting caught, he couldn’t stop thinking about you sitting in your shared home, lounging around wearing nothing but a smile on your angelic face, desperate to be appreciated the way you deserved.

The front door clicking open caused you to sit up and immediately start nervously chewing on your thumb, anticipating. You were feeling uneasy because Daniel hadn’t messaged you back, giving you nothing to analyse while you waited for him to get home and deep down, you knew it was precarious sending a photo like that. But you were willing to risk it all for whatever his reaction was going to be. And boy, were you in for it.

“Where are you!?” Daniel yelled out, searching the kitchen first before appearing in the living room archway, tired eyes and an unreadable expression present his handsome face, “You.”

Hey. You blinked, small grin threatening to give you away but you managed to suppress it, waiting for any semblance of a reaction from the man standing in front of you. Anything more than the silence you were drowning in.

“You’re in trouble.”

“Why?” You asked, feigning innocence and causing Daniel to scoff loudly as he threw down his backpack – stern faced but soft spoken.

“Don’t fuck with me. You know exactly what I’m talkin' about.”

He was weirdly calm as he stepped forward, towering over you gazing up at him from the couch, “You sent me naked pictures while I was in a work meeting – a very important one, in fact. And on face value, loved ‘em. Love you. You’re hot – I know it, you know it but…”

You were smirking now at the compliment and Daniel couldn’t wait to wipe the smug look off your face, “Michael accidentally saw them…”

“What!” You shouted, gasping and covering your mouth with your hand. Mortified.

“Tits and all, honey. That’s what you get for trying to distract me from my work.”

"Nooooooo! No, no no!" You wailed.

You shrivelled up into a fetal position on the couch, wishing the ground would just swallow you whole and take you away from the humiliation, “What did he say?”

“Well, he was shocked to see my wife, his friend, naked on my phone. Like I said, you’re so unbelievably hot but you’ve gotta give a guy some warning before dropping nudes on him. Just a little like, ‘warning may contain titties’ or something – anything”

Daniel’s voice was slightly strained, and faintly humoured as he started to peel you out of your shame, little by little. You chuckled into his chest as he pulled you up into in his strong embrace, kissing your neck and brushing his hands under the hem of your his shirt.

“I was so turned on that I forgot to pick up food and your ice cream.”

His confession was quiet and you hummed before snaking your arms over his slumped shoulders and carefully dragged yourself into his lap, “S’okay. I knew would be so I got sushi delivered after I sent you the message.”

Daniel tilted his head back against the couch and cocked an eyebrow, “You think you’ve got it all figured out, don’t ya?”

And of course you nodded, baiting him and hoping to be put in your place. Even he couldn't deny that you had him figured out, down to a tee – every whim had been accounted for as you made him groan with pleasure, pressing down on him, teasing.

“You started all of this so you’re gonna be the one who finishes it, yeah? So fuckin' cheeky.”

“You’re going to wish you left that meeting hours ago, baby.” “We’ll see about that,” Daniel winked. Eyes wide, desperate to see it all.

+ + + let me know what you think!

#daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo imagine #smut prompts #requested #monzamashmasterlist #daniel ricciardo smut #f1 one shot #formula 1 #f1 imagine #f1 blurbs #monzamashprompts

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piedpiperart · 10 months

Text

Phantom in Gotham 7

Chapter 6

In no time at all Danny found himself in a nightwing t-shirt with black and gray bat pajama pants, hair a bit damp, and sitting on a soft couch across from Alfred with a cup of warm cocoa in his hands. “I assume you have questions?” Alfred prompted after a moment, setting his teacup down on the matching plate on the coffee table.

“Um, yeah,”Danny stammered, looking from his cup to Alfred. He sighed,”Sorry, um. I’ve never been kidnapped by a vigilante before, so I’m not exactly sure… what to do here?”

Alfred sighed, not at Danny, but he assumed Alfred hoped the Red Hood might’ve explained a bit more before dropping him off with the man. “No need to worry, Red Hood informed me of your situation, young man. You are welcome to stay here, at the very least until the snow subsides,” Alfred informed him. “Beyond that, please make yourself at home. You may find a few familiar faces around the manor, even.”

“Who? What do you mean?” Danny asked, tilting his head and reminding Alfred of a puppy.

“You’re residing in Wayne Manor, and I am Master Bruce’s butler,”Alfred winked, and Danny’s eyes widened. “I assume you might know the many children he’s adopted from the news. Currently Masters Damian and Timothy are home, but the others may show up at a later date.”

“The Wayne Manor?” Danny repeated absently. He vaguely recalled Tucker ranting about WayneTech. “Are you sure it’s okay for me to be here? I don’t want to cause any trouble.”

“Nonsense,” Alfred waved gracefully,”You’re welcome to stay as long as you like. There are plenty of empty rooms in this place, and it’s been feeling entirely too empty since Master Jason and Dick moved out.”

“Well… if you’re sure,”Danny relented, sipping at his mug again. “Are you the only butler here? This place is huge.”

“Quite,” Alfred inclined his head,”There are a few other hired hands, but I am in charge of most things within the manor, such as mealtimes.”

“I could help?” Danny offered, perking up. Living in the Pizzeria left little time for cooking in an actual kitchen, and his core hummed at the prospect of helping the old man. “My parents weren’t great at cooking so my sister and I did most of the cooking around the house.”

Despite no one else but Jason allowed in his kitchen, Alfred’s heart warmed at the offer. “I’d enjoy some company, if you’d care to join me,”Alfred smiled, and Danny’s core hummed happily. Danny smiled back, and Alfred could only hope the boy was better than Dick had been in the kitchen. The poor boy somehow had found a way to set a bowl of cereal on fire that one time.

Before anyone could add anything else, a small boy about eleven years old walked past the room with an apple in hand. The boy in question halted in his tracks and approached the two on the couches. “Another one?” The boy scoffed, and Danny took a moment to take in the kid’s cat t-shirt and nightwing pajama pants. “Pennyworth, doesn’t Father have enough children? Where is he? I must talk sense into him.”

“Master Danny here was sent for us to look after by the Red Hood,”Alfred forewarned as Danny fidgeted on the couch,”He will be staying with us while the snow is hampering his living conditions. Master Danny, meet Master Wayne’s son, Damian,” Alfred added, turning to Danny.

“H-hi,” Danny waved awkwardly, unsure of what to say to the kid whose house he’s staying in without Damian knowing. “Nice to meet you?” Danny offered.

Damian just scoffed,”Of course. I bet Hood found him on the streets, didn’t he?”

“Hey, it’s not like I wanted to be here,”Danny shot back, exasperated,”Hood threw me over his shoulder and dragged me here. I’d leave if I could but this place is so big I don’t think I’d be able to find the door.”

Damian frowned, thinking,”You wouldn’t survive the blizzard outside even if you managed to find the door. Besides, you’re here now, might as well take advantage of the manor while you can,” Damian squinted, almost like he was testing Danny.

“I’ll have you know that I would have been perfectly fine out there,”Danny sniffed, and Damian’s eyes narrowed at him. “I’d make an igloo and burrow into it like a polar bear. So don’t worry, I’ll be out of your hair in no time.”

“Tt. Your sense of self-preservation is worrying, and I doubt your ability to make a structurally sound igloo,”The kid concluded, looking out towards the windows covered in snow.“Are you implying the snow is preferable to the manor? Why do you desire a cold death out there over warmth here?”

Danny waved his concerns off,”Your giant castle is nice, I just. I had a space to hide out in, and being kidnapped to stay here was not on my list of things to do today.”

Alfred tutted,”An abandoned building with no heat or water was not adequate housing for this sort of blizzard, young man.”

Damian ignored Danny’s mumble proclaiming that he would have been fine, and stated,”I have concluded that you may be stupid or suicidal, so I will allow you to stay here until the snow lets up, if only to not have your death on my conscience,”Damian nodded, then scowled threateningly,”If you try to leave before I or Pennyworth say so, I will make sure you stay by less than pleasant means.” He stated, then turned on his heel and left the room.

Danny made a face at that, wondering if the kid was joking or not about the ‘less than pleasant means’ that he’d go through if he tried to leave. Did they have cameras here? He wondered if he’d be able to go ghost without anyone noticing. “Do not worry,”Alfred stated, standing up gracefully. “Master Damian has a soft spot for strays, you’ll be welcome here.”

“Um… okay?”Danny said incredulously. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to be welcome here, yet his core had latched on to the frail old man like a starving cat to a tuna sandwich. He knew he’d only be able to leave once he’d made sure Alfred, and possibly Damian too, were safe during the blizzard. This day just got weirder and weirder.

“I’m sure you’re tired. If you’ll follow me, I can show you to the guest bedroom,”Alfred offered, and Danny scrambled to his feet. He wasn’t tired in the least, and he doubted he’d be able to fall asleep at all tonight given his fucked up sleep schedule and his need for less sleep than usual anyway, but he didn’t realize that Alfred was probably tired, and needed to rest for the night.

“Uh- sure, yeah,”Danny rambled, and the two made a detour to the kitchen to put away the cups before Alfred led Danny down a corridor with some decorations and nameplates attached to some of the doors.

“You’re right next to Timothy, who should be asleep as of now, but if you have any issues he will be able to help you,” Alfred informed him, opening the door to the biggest room Danny had ever seen (not including Vlad’s). “I shall leave you to retire for now, master Danny, but do try and get some sleep. Breakfast starts at 8am sharp, and is mandatory for all those residing in the house tonight.”

“Do you want any help making breakfast?” Danny offered sincerely. He’d try to go exploring in his ghost form, but he knew he’d be bored and restless most of the night as he decided not to go out patrolling. Might as well try to get an early start on the day, he figured.

“I don’t see why not,”Alfred conceded. “I usually start around 6:30, but feel free to show up whenever you wake.”

“I’ll be there,” Danny smiled brightly. It’d been so long since he’d been able to cook something with Jazz, despite his lack of appetite, he’d missed it.

“Goodnight, Master Danny,”Alfred nodded, a soft, fond smile on his face.

“G’night Alfred,”Danny waved as he left the corridor. He sighed, making his way into the room and face-planting onto the bed.

What a day, he thought.

Chapter 8

#Phantom in Gotham #dcxdp #dpxdc #danny phantom #tim drake #jason todd #Damian Wayne

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five-rivers · 1 year

Text

Buried in the Woods

@snops Hello! I'm your Truce gifter this year! I went after your 1st and 3rd prompts. Cryptid vibes and Corpse AU. Enjoy! >:)

They’re waiting for him, this time.

They don’t, always. Usually, he’s faster than they are, and sometimes they can’t make it at all. A few, very harrowing times, he couldn’t make it.

But here, now, they’re waiting, each one leaning against a tree trunk. The hillside below then is dotted with charred and broken tree stumps that rise straight from the ground like monuments. The moon is high, white, and sharp, cut from the sky with a razor. Everything is cold, still, quiet.

Sam raises cupped hands to her mouth and blows through them, ignoring the dirt on her fingers and under her nails. It’s not any worse than digging in her garden. The shovels are a bit bigger, that’s all.

Tucker has taken out his PDA again. He shouldn’t. Not here. The screen is bright, and someone might see it. But he can’t help but check the time, again, squinting through the fog of his breath to see the numbers. It’s late. But that’s not going to change in a hurry.

Almost as one, they look down the hill, their attention drawn taught. Something is moving down there.

Surreptitiously, Sam puts a boot on the blade of her shovel, levering it up and into her hand. Tucker reaches out for his, fingers brushing the smooth wooden handle, not yet pulling it free of the ground.

They wait, still and cautious. No matter how many times they do this, they’re never entirely at ease.

Then two spots of green, bright and alien, flare up at them from the dark. If either of them had been carrying a flashlight, the green could have been mistaken for an animal’s eyeshine.

They weren’t. It wasn’t.

Slowly, the thing in the dark comes up the hill. It walks slowly, ponderously, its gait uneven. Every once in a while, that green flashes again.

The clear cold light of the moon provides a silhouette, eventually. A black hole in the night. A human-like figure, a body thrown over one of its shoulders, a shovel propped on the other. It is stooped, slightly, under the weight, but the way it moves could tell anyone it had done this before. Its eyes are flat, green coins.

Sam blinks once, twice, three times. Tucker just waits, still as stone. Reality shifts. No longer is the thing in front of them a shadow cut from nightmare, but their friend, Danny. Normal, human, puny, blue-eyed Danny, who, for some reason, thinks it’s acceptable to wear a t-shirt in this weather and at this time of night. He looks exhausted, and perhaps a little embarrassed. Nothing frightening here.

Other than the fact he’s carrying his own corpse over his shoulder.

“You didn’t need to bring your own shovel, man,” says Tucker, compulsively pulling his PDA out again. “We already got everything dug.” He sounds worried.

Danny cringes. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you wait that long.” He drums his fingers on the shaft of his shovel and adjusts his grip on the body.

“It’s fine. Let’s just get under cover.” Sam turns and walks back, into the less-burned part of the forest. She can hear Tucker following her. Danny is, as always, silent.

“Oof,” says Danny.

“Huh? Something wrong?” asks Tucker.

“Just walked over my own grave, that’s all.” Danny offers them a smile that could have been made from the same fabric as the moon – although with a far less steady hand.

The response is a groan, as loud as they dare.

“We’re going to have to change locations, soon.”

And isn’t that the truth? Accidentally digging up one grave was one grave too many, and it isn’t as if they could mark them. What they are doing is illegal, both in the ‘this is literally against state, federal, county, and municipal law’ sense, and the more metaphorical ‘this is an affront to the laws of nature’ sense.

They reach their handiwork of the night before much longer. The grave isn’t nice and rectangular, but they gave up on that early on. It’s deep, and big enough to take what Danny’s been carrying. That’s enough.

Danny promptly drops his corpse into the hole. The sound of a corpse hitting the ground like that—It isn’t exactly indescribable, and it isn’t exactly unique, but…

It sure is a sound.

They stare at it, for a long moment. It feels, even after all this time, that they should say something, do something, to commemorate the moment, to lay the body to rest.

But they don’t.

Danny hefts his shovel and starts the work of pushing the dirt back in. Shovelful by shovelful, the body is hidden from view. Covered up. Tucked in.

“Well,” says Danny. “That’s that for tonight.”

They go back, down through the trees. Sometimes, when he steps into the shadows of the trees, Danny goes dark again, his eyes green and glowing, but those moments become fewer and further between as they leave the fresh grave behind. As they leave Danny’s latest death behind. As Danny becomes more alive.

“Who was it tonight?” asks Tucker. “Or was it more of a what this time?”

“Ember,” says Danny.

“That was fast, for her.”

“She wasn’t here for a fight, this time.” Danny shrugs. “Convinced her to ride my death back across the line pretty easy. It’s almost as if—”

He stops, tilts his head to one side. Shadows strobe across him.

“Danny?” asks Sam.

“Something’s here,” says Danny, his voice flat and empty, and then he's gone.

If there is one thing that is impossible for Sam and Tucker to get used to, it is the sight of their friend dropping dead.

Sam hisses through her teeth and crouches down. “He couldn’t even tell us who it is first?”

“It can’t be anyone too strong,” says Tucker. “He wouldn’t risk wasting a death.” He thumbs open the timer on his PDA. Six minutes. On average, a human death held a viable door open for six minutes.

Sam shoots him a skeptical look and he winces. There is, on occasion, a wildness in Danny's eyes beyond the green.

But it’s too late to talk about that now. The moon-cast shadows undulate across the ground, twitching and fluttering like living things. It's ink and blackness and the trees bending away from the sky to reveal stars that were both too close and too green.

The dark isn’t the only thing there. There's something artificial, a presence the forest resists. An intruder. An outsider. A predator, stalking, hunting, not looking for them, but it doesn’t care about collateral damage.

Sam curses under her breath. “Skulker.”

The two ghosts clash and writhe, dead, unmade things in a place they should not exist. They give the body, the corpse, a wide berth, Skulker not willing to get close enough to the body and the door for Danny to push him through, and Danny clearly not wanting Skulker to get too close to Sam and Tucker.

The problem with Skulker is that he’s always been out for blood. Danny is his current prey, but that isn’t a good thing to count on.

“Do you think Vlad let him through again?” whispers Tucker, his words standing stark against the silence.

It’s probable. There aren’t enough human deaths in Amity Park to justify how often certain ghosts return. Any death can make a door, even a plant’s, even an animal’s, but those doors are usually too small and too brief for ghosts like Skulker to get through, if they aren’t called to them specifically. But someone like Vlad or Danny can die again and again, as many times as needed.

Tucker sees Danny’s body twitch and he yelps, putting a tree between him and it. Sam is more proactive. She brings the flat of her shovel down on its head. The ghosts that leak out are stripes of neon against dark grass. The light is swallowed by the empty places between the trees.

“How much time?” she asks Tucker breathlessly.

“Three minutes,” he says, holding up his PDA.

“We need to get out of here.”

“What? But—”

She grabs his wrist and hauls him into the dark.

It isn’t only black in there. Star-flashes and moonlight twinkle and strobe as they run. There are eyes, green and uncountable. There is sound – gunfire swallowed by snow, the twang of bowstrings, the last gasp of prey, devoured. The trees slide by them, studiously avoiding their path. Soft mounds of earth flicker with gentle stars, the ground beneath them a mirror of the sky above. It is like running between two mirrors.

This landscape, Sam realizes, a little late, does not favor Skulker very much at all. Not here, in Danny’s own personal graveyard.

And the shadows retreat, pulled away like ink being absorbed by a napkin.

Sam and Tucker look back, over their shoulders. Two green eyes stare at them from what isn’t, in retrospect, very far away at all. Danny’s body lies on the ground below, barely visible. The eyes do not leave them, even as the shadow they are in stoops to pluck the shovel from the limp hand of Danny’s body and start digging.

The shadows beneath the trees don’t seem very dark anymore. The moonlight is almost blinding.

The timer on Tucker’s PDA goes off, loudly. He hisses at it, annoyed that, somewhere along the way, he’d turned the volume on.

“Heck,” says Sam.

“Yeah,” agrees Tucker, vehemently. “Where’d my shovel go?”

They find it before too long. There aren’t too many places it could have gone. They join Danny in digging. Two graves in one night are really too much, but they’ve done more, and they’ve done worse. They aren’t like Vlad, can’t just let them build up until it’s efficient to dispose of them, or whatever he does. Something tells them that whatever is probably worse than they’re imagining.

Between blinks, Danny is himself again, and the grave is finished before the moon starts to set.

It is late. It is early. It is time to go home.

The thing about three teenagers with shovels walking the city streets at night is that they’re noticed. Amity Park isn’t New York, but any city worth its name stirs in its sleep. Midnight flights to the airport, inadvisably long bachelor parties, late movies, insomnia, homelessness.

Tucker’s been monitoring the ghost hunting and cryptid forums for a while, and he’s emailed Danny links to each one that mentions him. Sam has clippings from the paper about calls to animal control about something with green eyes, about something that couldn’t possibly be human. Then, of course, there are the calls to the police about something dragging or carrying bodies from all sorts of places.

There had been an investigation at one point. There had to be. But nothing had been found. There hadn’t been anything to find. No missing bodies, no mysterious disappearances, no deaths. Just a green-eyed shadow and its mysterious companions.

Sam knows her parents, at least, think the whole thing is a prank. Tucker’s think it is people seeing things when there was nothing there, like bigfoot. The less said about what Danny’s parents think about it, the better.

Sam’s house is furthest from the center of town, and they drop her off first, the shadows on the trellis giving her a boost when she climbed. Tucker and Danny then have the typical argument about whether it’s better to bring Tucker or Danny home first. Danny, Tucker argues, has just fought not one, but two ghosts. Tucker, Danny argues, cannot come back from the dead. Danny wins, as usual.

That leaves Danny, real and not, alive and not, to wander home. He waves cheerfully at a drunk who watches him pass with wide eyes and turns onto his street. He breathes in, deeply, tasting the ash that still flavors the air all these months later. He opens his eyes just in time for the winter sun to beam through the skeleton of one of the buildings that bracket the crater that was once Fentonworks.

No one lives here anymore.

No one is waiting for him.

Danny walks down into the darkness and disappears.

#danny phantom #winter truce #snops #prompt fill #corpse au #cryptid vibes

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