#Danny appreciates the tips | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

skylarsblue · 2 years

Note

Yo itz me again may I request the slashers with a yandere s/o that's like very loyal and very devoted to their slasher and then one day they are like chatting together and their s/o is like "I would do anything for you" and the slasher bf would be like "ok then stab this pencil in you eye " ofc they aren't serious they was just joking than their s /o was like " bet" straight up grabbing the pencil and almost stabbing in into their eye and then the slasher bf will stop them before it was too late

I've had this thought for a long time. Yandere Slashers are cool, but yandere reader? That's underrated. I know Danny is a DBD killer, but, he suits this concept so well that I had to add him. This took way too long and I apologize, writers block is a bitch.

(CONTENT WARNING: Unstable reader & attempted self-stabby. Some mild descriptions of what WOULD happen if Y/N wounded themselves)

Michael Myers (ANY)

He doesn’t believe you at first , he wholeheartedly doubts you’re as loyal as you say you are. Main reason being, humans have a natural want for self preservation. He is a threat to you. That’s just a fact, and he’s certain that when it comes down to it, you’ll choose your life over your loyalty to him.

So when you say “I’d do anything for you.”? He will question you, he won’t take it very seriously. Perhaps he’ll appreciate the sentiment but he’s not buying it. His doubt shows in his gaze. It’ll rise when you said you could prove it.

“Stab me.” You said clearly. And for the first time in awhile, the Shape was caught off guard. “Go on, stab me. I’ll stab myself if you want.” Michael nearly scoffs. But he humors you, certain you’d back down once you saw him encouraging it. Michael set his knife on the kitchen counter, waiting for your hesitance & anxious expression. He feels another wave of surprise when you waste no time to grab the knife. He goes rigid when you take hold of the handle and aim for your ribs, face showing nothing but determination and a strange calm. Before you can make the full motion, he catches your wrist, leaving the tip of the blade mere centimeters from your skin. Michael’s shock doesn’t show in his body, nor on his face behind his mask. But he’s astounded as you look up, doe eyed, head tilted. “Why’d you stop me?” You asked. Michael let out a breath from his nose and took the knife away. You blinked as he, awkwardly, patted your head. It was quick & unpracticed, despite the fact he’d done it before. He believed you now. Admittedly, now he was far more curious about just how far that loyalty went. For the sake of stress, however, he’d rather not find out.

Thomas Hewitt

While Thomas sometimes doubts your affections for him, it’s not the way Michael does. It’s because he’s insecure. He thinks you deserve better. But your admissions that you’re so dedicated to him, that you’d do anything for him? It makes his heart warm. He takes it seriously, but in a lighthearted way. A kind statement that you’d always be there for him.

The only people that may doubt just how dedicated you are would be his family. Charlie Hoyt in particularly. He will doubt every loving proclaim you make, assuming you just want to placate Thomas to keep your role in their house. A survival tactic. He’s taunting with it.

Hoyt chuckled at his end of the table then, looking at you sharply as you sat on the opposite end. “Aight then, why don’t’cha prove it?” He questions. You nodded. Luda Mae kept quiet but shook her head, Thomas frowned as he stood in the doorway of the dining room. Both he & Luda tensed slightly when Hoyt brought out a knife. He walked over and stopped a few few away, stabbing the blade into the table. “Take out ya eye, the left one.” Hoyt instructs, confident you’d back down. Thomas is tense but he doesn’t move. He’s come to trust your loyalty to him, but he’s certain in your natural instincts, you wouldn’t go that far. Luda sighs from her place at the table. “Cha-Hoyt, that’s really not necessary-“ The older woman is cut off as you reach for the knife’s handle. You are calm & composed as you flip it and aim the blade, taking only a second to properly align it with your left eye. Luda barely as time to gasp as the blade comes only a centimeter from your iris, but your hand is stopped by one you’d come to adore. You tilt your head back to look up at him. Thomas’s breathing is heavy as he feels adrenaline rush his veins, brown eyes wide in shock. He takes it away & places it on the table, before he narrows his gaze at Hoyt, frowning. Even Hoyt is shocked. Perhaps impressed. “I’ll be damned, maybe ya do mean it.”

Bubba Sawyer

Similar to Thomas, Bubba is more willing to believe you when you say you’d do anything for him. They’re overjoyed when you admit it. They assume the same thing as Thomas. You mean it in a sweet way, serious but not to the extent you truly mean.

Bubba may not take it as heavily as you mean it. It’s not that he doubts you, just that he takes it like anyone else would. They believe you only mean it like “I’ll always be here for you.” Now, of course, that meaning certainly fits, but it’s not quite to the level of dedication you’re actually promising.

“I mean it Bubba, I mean anything.” You clarified again. Bubba nodded and gave a sweet pig-like squeal. Nodding innocently. You smiled softly, but shook your head. “Bubba, dear, I don’t think you understand. I mean I’d cut my own hand off for you.” Bubba stopped moving for a moment. His eyes were wide, blinking in astonishment. He tilted his head. “I mean it! Here.” You took the meat cleaver off the wooden countertop. Placing your nondominant hand on the surface, eyeing where to bring the blade down. The blade didn’t come into contact with the muscle & bone of your wrist, but it came close. Bubba held your weapon wielding arm in their large hands, squealing & whining in distress. They shook their head frantically as they took the cleaver. Your words were cut off when Bubba hugged you into the plushness of his stomach & chest, patting your head & petting your hair. “Okay, okay, breathe Bubs. I’m fine. I just needed you to understand just how far I’d go for you.” You reassured, patting his back. They whined and nuzzled their face into the top of your head. You continued gently hushing him until he calmed down.

Bo Sinclair

Bo’s probably more suspicious of you towards the beginning of your stay in Ambrose. Understandably, of course. You waltzed into a town where two twins turned people into wax statues. It’s not a common thing to accept. He wasn’t very trusting to begin with, even if those circumstances weren’t present.

While he’s come to like you, he will still have a paranoia about you calling the police, or perhaps trying to hurt one of them. There’s a voice in his head that insists no one would love him that much. To ignore murder? He’s certain you’re just going with what he wants in order to stay alive. That thought often haunts him when he realizes how much he likes you. Bo’s not shy about telling you either.

Bo scoffed & shook his head. You’d been there about four months & he still didn’t believe you, no matter how many times you told him of your loyalty. You knew why. Bo was a guarded man, thanks to a shitty childhood, it was completely understandable that he’d doubt every person who he came across. It became clear that your words weren’t getting through. “I mean it, Bo. I told you! I don’t plan on leaving or ratting you out, I love it here! I’d do anything for you!” You insisted for the millionth time. He rolled his eyes. “Yeah? Fuckin’ prove it then.” He challenged. You stared at him. He watched your gaze narrow in determination, calm despite everything. He rose an eyebrow when you turned to the counter top. Reaching for a pair of kitchen sheers. Bo’s face turned to confusion when you grabbed it, holding it steady. “Pick a part.” You said. “What?” “Pick a part of me. Anything.” You clarified. Bo was beyond confused at this point. He shook his head as he thought of an answer, deciding to pick what he liked most about your face. “I dunno, your mouth?” “My lips or my tongue?” Bo huffed. “Fuckin’, tongue I guess? What does this have to do wit’ provin’ yourself?” His question became choked at the end when you grabbed the end of your tongue and opened the dirty blades. Adrenaline jolting his extremities as you went to place your tongue between the blades, only to have the hand holding the scissors to be pulled away. “The hell ya doin’?! Are you fuckin’ crazy?!” He insisted. Your other hand dropped as you stared at him calmly. “I told you. I’d do anything for you.” Bo’s was visibly taken aback. He let out a breath and took the scissors from your hand. “Do you believe me now?” Your question made him look over your face again, scanning the peace in your features. “Yeah...yeah I believe ya.” He muttered.

Vincent Sinclair

While Vincent’s not as hostile about his doubts in your loyalty as Bo, he still questions you. There’s a part of him more willing to believe you’ll stay, though there’s a bigger portion of their brain that insists you’re only trying to survive. They dread the day you’ll slip up and it will end up one of two ways. You’ll manage to successfully leave, tell everyone about what happens in Ambrose, and their brother & themselves will end up rotting in prison. Or perhaps die in a police shoot out. The second option is that they’ll catch you before you can, and Vincent will have to silence you in wax.

Still, when you proclaim you’d do anything for them, they love to hear it. Even if it’s hard to believe you. Vincent wishes he could just take the declaration & be happy with it, not doubt your every move. The more you do to prove it to him, the more guilty he feels for doubting you. Perhaps that’s why you felt it was best to shock them into believing you.

Vincent leaned slightly to allow you to push his hair out out his masked face. “I’d do anything for you.” You whispered, you’d said the same thing at least six times a week. You could see their eye gaze at you past the socket in their mask. There was softness to his gaze but it was mixed with uncertainty. You sighed. “You still don’t believe me.” He almost flinches at it, you know he can’t help it though. “What can I do to make you believe me?” Vincent shook his head. There wasn’t anything more you could do, you did so much for them, it wasn’t you at all. He knew full well it was himself. You huffed a breath, looking around the basement. You caught sight of a knife on the table next to you. You reached for it, making him jolt. They watched you in confusion, the tip of the blade pointed at them. “I’ll prove it to you.” You stated. Vincent’s confusion turned to surprise when you flipped the blade towards you, aiming for the eye. Their breath caught in their throat and their hands rushed forward. Your gaze unfocused from the shiny blade only a millimeter from your cornea, looking at Vincent again. His chest rose and fell with quickened breaths. You allowed them to take the knife and place it on the table again, pulling you to his chest. They let out a shaky exhale. They rarely spoke, but when they did, it was deep, raspy, & unpracticed. “I believe you.”

Lester Sinclair

Lester’s probably the most willing to believe you when you say you’d do anything for him. He might even delusion himself in thinking you mean it more seriously than you do. Jokes on him though, he doesn’t need to convince himself of anything! Because you do mean it that seriously.

Lester’s not going to ask you to confirm or prove it. He’ll be grateful that you’re around to begin with. However, he may occasionally ask what it is about him that makes you want to stay. These are days where his insecurities weigh a bit heavier on his shoulders than usual. Lester was often ignored/emotionally neglected by his parents when he didn’t measure up, and while he’s become a bit better at coping, he still sometimes wonders if it’s something wrong with him.

You frowned and turned around, drying your hands from the dishes you were doing. Bo & Vincent always used a massive amount of plates when they visited Lester. Who, currently, sat at the little table in the kitchen. Fiddling with the edge of his stained flannel. “What?” You asked. “Just like...why would ya choose me to stick with, that’s all. I mean, why me?” The man asked softly. Your chest clenched in sympathy. You set the dish towel down and turned to him fully, stepping over. “Lester, I’ve told you this before.” You replied. “No no, I know, I was just...wonderin’.” He shrugged, nervously tipping down his hat. You sighed. You turned and slid a knife from the knife block, freshly cleaned. Lester didn’t see it happen, he looked at the floor until you walked back towards him. “Do I need to prove how far I’d go for you?” You asked. Lester swallowed and shook his head, he looked up and jolted at the sight of the knife. “Well you don’t seem to believe me. I have no issue showing you.” You said as you set your hand on the table’s surface. “Hey now, what’re ya-” Lester cut himself off when you rose the blade. Nearly sending it through the back of your palm. That was, had he not stopped you. The chair slid loudly on the tile from the force of him getting up. “Whoa whoa! Don’t do that!” He insisted. You turned to look at him, setting the knife on the table as he looked over your face with wide eyes. He blinked in awe as your took his face in your hands. “Lester, when I said I’d do anything for you, I meant it. Now quit questioning yourself, okay?” You asked. The blue eyed man swallowed and nodded. “Alright, I believe ya. Just...please don’t go stabbin’ ya’self.” He said softly. You smiled and turned to peck his cheekbone. “Only cause you asked, sugar.”

Jason Voorhees

Jason values loyalty above a lot of things. Almost everything, really. He’s not likely to show you any doubt he may have, because once he trusts you enough not to kill you, he’ll feel guilty for when he doesn’t believe you. The more effort you make, the less & less he’ll wonder your sincerity.

Still, he’s been tricked before. There are times where he’ll recall these moments & wonder if you plan to do the same thing. That you’ll try to slip away from him when he’s distracted by trespassers. There’s a voice in the back of Jason’s head telling him that he’ll come back to an empty cabin, that it’s only a matter of time that he’ll need to do away with you. And he fears that day immensely.

Jason stood in front of you in the cabin. He’d rushed home after taking care of some intruders, only to have a bit of a panic when he couldn’t immediately find you. You’d been taking a bath, but rushed out when you heard his boot steps turn into running. Hearing frantic searching in the rooms. You barely had time to dry your hair, an inconvenient time to try and have a wash day. Jason settled down a bit when he saw you. But you knew immediately what he had been thinking, the thought making you sad. “Jason, honey, I told you this. I’m not going to just up and leave you.” He looked to the floor, a bit ashamed, but you could still sense his uncertainty. You looked around and caught sight of his machete, stabbed into the floorboards, covered in blood. “I’ll prove it to you. I’ll prove to you that I’d do anything for you, okay?” You said as you went over to the blade, pulling it out of the floor. Jason tensed as he watched you wrap your hand around the handle. It looked so strange in your hands, so much smaller than his. He jolted visibly when you rested your hand on the small table in the room, trying to get a decent grip on the machete, a bit of an awkward angle. You set sights on the space where your fingers connected to your palm, spreading them out, gaging the position in which the blade would land. Wanting to make the cleanest sever possible. As you tensed your forearm, bringing the blade down, you expected to feel the searing pain and gush of blood from your digits. Instead, there was a dirtied glove stopping the weapon from falling. You looked up at him, seeing his one working eye wide and worried, blue irises staring down at you. He quickly took his machete back and set it down, pulling you tight to his chest. You looked up at him after settling your arms around his thick torso. “I mean it when I say it, baby. I’d do anything you want or need, okay? Stop worrying so much. I’m not going anywhere.” You said softly, smiling sweetly, as if you hadn’t just tried to cut off your fingers. Jason exhaled and nodded, petting your hair.

Danny Johnson

If any of these slashers would work well with a yandere-esc partner, it’s Danny. While Jed is the suburban sweetheart, bringing you flowers & offering you coffee dates, Danny is willing to paint the town red for his lover. Both acts are genuine. They both express how he really feels for you, but one is more open, more honest to his true nature. If you know about his...”hobby”, then they’ll be more inclined to believe you. You’ve reached that point of trust with him. Now, if you say this around Jed, before you know about Ghostface? He’ll doubt you more.

That being said, they has every reason to doubt you. Not only does he have some major abandonment issues. You can thank their mother for that. On top of that, he has issues being vulnerable. That, you can thank his peers and father for. And lastly, he’s a murderer, one motivated only by his sick desire to hurt others. While he doesn’t have any desire to harm you (in a non-sexy way), they know that their temper can be frightening. And when at it’s worst, he knows it can seem directed at you. Deep down, Danny is certain you’ll leave him eventually, because he doesn’t deserve you. As narcissistic as they can be, they think you’re too good for him.

You frowned as you looked at Jed’s cheekbone, seeing a darkening bruise that laid there, splotchy broken blood capillaries adding to the few imperfections to his face. He spoke to you with his charming grin anyway, straight white teeth exposed as he chuckled while telling a story. He flinched slightly when you reached your hand out, tracing the mark gently. Jed blinked before he gave a little smile, standing up fully, rather than leaning against your kitchen counter top. He slid the coffee mug away from him. “Who hit you?” You asked, voice soft. He noted a strange glint in your gaze. “No one, just got smacked with a door.” He said. You shook your head, frowning. “Someone hit you, who?” “Why does it matter, doll?” Jed replied lightheartedly. You shifted your gaze to make eye contact. “You do remember the time I said I’d do anything for you, don’t you?” The brunet man tilted his head slightly, he nodded though. “Yeah, but I don’t see what that has to do with this.” He said. “You don’t think I’m being serious?” You asked. Jed chuckled again, rolling his shoulders. “You make it sound like you’re gonna find this person and kill them.” He fought the urge to laugh at his own little joke. Your face remained calm and determined. You lowered your hand and stepped away from him, reaching for something in the sink. Jed’s shoulders tensed when he saw the glint of a blade, watching you turn, peaceful and concise as you looked at him. “Clearly, you don’t believe me. So I’ll show you.” His brows furrowed as you flipped the handle of the blade, only to feel a shock of surprise when you aligned the tip of the knife to your cornea. It happened so fast he barely had time to reach over the island to grab your wrist, the edge of the knife only millimeters from blinding yourself. You looked up at him. Jed looked between you and the knife, before he let out a breathy chuckle, smile twitching onto his face. “Jeez doll. Alright, I believe you...no need to go stabbing yourself.” He said softly. You let yourself set the knife down. Unbeknownst to you, Jed concocted a plan in his mind, wondering if he could really let you in on his hobby. You seemed dedicated enough. He smiled at the thought.

Billy Lenz

Billy’s gonna love hearing it, that’s for sure. It’ll get excited when you say it, it’ll probably send a lotta blood below the belt. Billy loves hearing your dedication to him, though it doesn’t think too much of it.

Whenever you say that you’d do anything for him, he’ll take it at face value, even if it makes him rather giddy. Having you show it will make him feel rather clingy, he’s not sure what he did to deserve having you be so sure of your adoration for it. But Billy certainly isn’t complaining.

Billy hugged your waist tightly, burrowing his face into your chest. He’d been peppering you with questions after your proclamation that you’d do anything for it. A large grin across its face. “Yes, Billy, I’d give up my money for you.” You said fondly, petting his hair. Billy squirmed before looking up at you. “Would...would you, would you st-tab yourself for me?” He questioned. You tilted your head, knowing the question wasn’t really that serious, still, you smiled. “Why of course I would. Where would you want me too?” You asked, recalling the switch blade that always rested in your pillow case. Ironically to protect yourself from intruders like Billy itself. The brunet man hummed, giggling a bit, he hadn’t been completely lucid the past two days but you didn’t seem to mind much. “Your uh...your hand!” It slurred. You shifted and reached behind you, feeling around in the pillowcase of the pillow you rested on. Billy tensed a bit when you revealed the handle, pressing the switch to send the shiny & sharpened blade up. Green-hazel eyes watching the knife with cat-like curiosity, pupils wide. “Alright then. Hand it is.” You took your other hand off his shoulder and held it up, open palm, taking the other and gripping the knife. Before the blade could enter the center of your hand, Billy’s hand blocked your wrist. It looked at you owlishly, blinking in awe. You rose an eyebrow. “You don’t want me to?” It shook its head slowly. You put the knife on your bedside table, letting your hands fall back into Billy’s hair as he leaned against you again, looking up at you. “Believe me now?” You asked lightheartedly. Billy nodded, relaxing again when you began petting his hair. “Cutie...” You cooed softly.

Brahms Heelshire

Brahms expects this of you, but for some reason, he doubts you constantly. Believing you’ll eventually try to leave him, and to be fair, everyone else before you did. Brahms isn’t exactly used to people meaning what they say when it comes to loyalty.

Most of the time, he’s grateful that you say it. It brings him some peace, makes him feel more content that you mean what you say, that you’ll stay with him. However, there are some days and some events that tend to make Brahms inconsolable. These tend to be things like phone calls from old friends/family or when the grocery boy shows up. (We’ll use Malcom for an example). It’s times like these where Brahms becomes certain that you’ll leave him for whatever reason. Maybe because you miss your old life or because Malcom managed to charm his way into your heart. Even when you reassure him, he doubts you.

Brahms kept his arms crossed and his gaze at the floor as you both stood in the kitchen. “Brahms, I mean it, I promise Malcom is not going to steal me from you! He has to deliver the groceries and I have to be here to accept them. Even if he flirts with me, I swear to you, I don’t flirt back.” You said. You’d been trying to reassure him for the past twenty minutes, nothing seemed to be working. You sighed and approached him. He flinched away from your attempt to rest your hands on his cardigan-covered arms. “Brahmsy, I mean it. I’d do anything for you.” You whispered to him sweetly. Brahms turned his head to look at you, green eyes sharp as they looked past the sockets of his mask. “Prove it.” His voice wasn’t childlike this time, deep and demanding. You sighed again. “Alright, I will.” You said with a single nod, turning to walk away from him. He stared into your back as you grabbed a knife from the knife block. His face twitched in confusion for a moment as you turned to have him. His pupils shrank as you aimed it at your face. Brahms’ arms uncrossed and his hands twitched as you ensured it was lined up properly. He had to dive a few feet, moving quickly. He pulled your arm down, keeping the blade from coming anywhere near your face. You looked at him and heard him breathing shakily behind his mask, adrenaline lowering just as quickly as it had risen. You took a breath and set the knife on the kitchen table, turning to hold his face in your hands. “When I said I’d do anything for you, I mean it, Brahms. And I need you to stop doubting me on that. Okay, baby?” You asked. Brahms swallowed and slowly nodded, brown curls falling over his forehead. You gave a smile and pecked the porcelain cheek. “Good boy. Now, your lessons are supposed to be happening, so let’s get you to the piano.”

5K notes · View notes

thatsdemko · 1 year

Text

the return of the honey badger - d.ricciardo

pairings: Daniel ricciardo x reader

warnings: fluff(ish) + made myself cry so idk what to tell you about that

a/n: feedback is always appreciated xx

you’re happy he gets to spend more time with you. he gets more time working out, wine tasting, messing with merchandise, and all other things to occupy himself from the thrill of the car, but they just aren’t enough.

you can tell he’s longing to get in the drivers seat and whip around those corners once more. you can tell his fingers twitch to hold that steering wheel once more. he’s aching for a task that’s not mundane.

Australia Grand Prix is first time back on the paddock, it’s when he realizes how many of the fans truly miss him. signs, fat heads, shirts, hats, etc. all for him. he’s overwhelmed by the love.

you’re a few feet behind walking with Red Bull security, you catch him smiling with fans, allowing people to embrace him in hugs wishing him well. you know he tells you he doesn’t mind being away, but you know that’s not the truth. he loves the smell of burnt rubber and the sounds of the engine.

you’ve missed that smile on his face, Christian Horner tells him he’s never seen him happier, and truth be told, he’s right. this is where he belongs, not doing silly chores around the house to kill time.

“ah I see you’ve brought the missus.” Christian leans in for a hug which you gladly accept, “and you’ve had lots of free time on your hand!” he points to your growing belly allowing him to press his hands against your stomach.

“he’s going to be a Red Bull driver he’s got the reflexes.” Daniel jokes, three of you moving along to the garage where max and checo were getting situated.

the two drivers are beyond ecstatic to see Daniel. in fact, max is grinning ear to ear you swear it’s like he slept with a wire in his mouth it won’t go away. it’s cute, Daniel has a similar smile that hasn’t stopped growing since stepping foot out of the car.

“Daniel,” Christian pats him on the shoulders, one of the interns is guiding you around the garage behind the two. camera on them both as Christian chats with him, “would you like to test out your car?”

you watch his eyes widen and glimmer with hope.he’s nodding like a little boy, his excitement can’t be contained as the engineers roll the car in until it stops at his feet.

you move closer to get a better look at those famous blue and red colors. you allow your finger tips to run over painted red three on the front of the car. looking up, you see he’s taking it all in. trying to memorize every little beautiful detail, he so badly wants hear her engine but he knows it’ll give his heart too much of hope that one day he’ll get in that car this year.

“soon, Danny.” you move over to him, allowing your nails to gently rake across his back feeling his arm wrap around you now, he nods.

“the honey badger will be back soon.”

872 notes · View notes

britcision · 5 months

Text

AND NOW: Part Two! One might think I would look at the fic at some point and check what chapter we’re on, but I will not! Mostly for “but that takes effort” reasons but also because by the time I get back here I WILL have forgotten!

Part One of this chapter:

First Chapter:

———————

Well You Did Get Down On One Knee (part 2)

Tucker, Conner, and Tim had actually gotten through another round of Spiderheck in between the rabid buzzing of Tim and Tucker’s phones.

Conner had the good sense to mute his and toss it behind the couch… after sharing the “good news” of Timblr with the Young Justice chat. Without which his phone probably wouldn’t have been buzzing at all.

He regretted nothing, despite Tim’s alternate pouting and threats. Tucker was pretty impressed, and pretty sure that it wasn’t just for the guy’s good looks this time.

Finally, after the fourth time Tim’s ringtone changed itself and blasted at full volume (making Tucker completely drop his controller), the Black tech gave up, sighing heartily and dropping his head into his hands.

Not least to hide the sudden wicked grin on his face as an idea struck. Because yeah, sure, he could help Tim try and unhack fucking Oracle on the sly, or… they could remove the distraction another way.

(Tucker wasn’t a thousand percent ungrateful for the distraction; he was pretty sure even without the merry buzzing of his social life burning down around him he’d have had a hard time concentrating on the game.

It just plain wasn’t fair; Conner was too fucking hot, and so earnest, and excited when he was doing well! All the little shouts and exclamations, the broad grins, Tucker was really beginning to doubt his own demisexual nature.

Although, to be fair, it wasn’t like he actually wanted to… interact while Conner was being cuter than Cujo with a rubber bone. Just. It was hard to think about anything else when he could be appreciating all… that instead.

At least while Tim’s ass was being blown off by at least three separate group chats, Tucker’s floundering was less embarrassing.)

Tim gave him a consoling pat on the back while Conner whooped in victory, probably trying to comfort Tucker in the loss. Tucker let him for a moment, running a couple quick calculations in his head.

Because yeah, he’d never got around to asking Danny to ecto infuse any of the Waynes’ tech; not the batcomputer nor the gaming consoles, but. Well. They’d played for hours the last two nights, and it wasn’t like Tucker had never gotten his hands through a console’s innards.

It had to count as knowing the device, right?

And it wasn’t like it was that hard, doing it for just three people. For just one game.

Looking up at the other two, he gave them both a slightly shyer grin.

“So, like… I know we’re having a good time and all,” he began, and Tim groaned theatrically as he was interrupted yet again by his ringtone.

“I’m about to ask Superboy to toss this thing into space,” he grumbled, glowering at his phone.

Conner reached innocently towards it and Tim snatched it back up immediately. Tucker settled back once it was safe too, grinning sheepishly even if it wasn’t his bluff Conner called.

Conner tipped him a wink and Tucker had to clear his throat and give his head a quick shake to clear his blush.

“Right… yeah, uh, anyway. What if I had a better way to get us away from distractions?” He asked as innocently as he could, staring at the screen instead of that far too attractive face.

He could still see the other two sit up from the corner of his eye, both looking interested.

“We’re not allowed to game in the Bat Cave,” Tim said quickly, with a resigned air that said the question had come up before… and enough disappointment that they’d probably done it and been caught.

Which, yeah, thinking of the size of the screen in the cave, Tucker suddenly really wanted to try that too.

Already banned though. And he and Danny were already on thin enough ice with Batman as it was.

Reluctantly dismissing the thought, he returned his attention to the present moment, grin spreading as he turned to face Tim directly.

(Tim was safe. Tim was, objectively, a very handsome young man and Tucker could appreciate that in a distant way, but being pretty was just so much less interesting that almost anything else about Tim.

Tucker could worship him through a distant computer screen, so the pretty blue eyes weren’t much of a distraction. Looking at Tim face to face was really cool, but Tucker would be more tongue tied watching him code.)

“Sure, but you remember I told you about my technopathy? I can interface with machines I know really well,” he added for Conner’s benefit, accidentally looking over in time to preen as his face lit up with interest.

Tim, for some reason, stifled a snicker.

“Yeah, you mentioned. And that it was a little more complicated, but go on,” he prodded, and Conner shot him a look that Tucker was gonna have to ask questions about.

Later. Once he was done showing off a little. And, probably, getting his ass kicked at Spiderheck.

Tucker Foley was a master of video game controls, sure, and that sorta helped, as did “knowing you’ve been thrust into a video game”. He just didn’t delude himself into thinking it’d be enough to counter the actual literal battle training of superheroes.

But hey, maybe having all those extra legs would fuck them both up for long enough that he’d win a few rounds.

“Well I think you might’ve already noticed, but I know this game really well.”

Danny was doing his best to keep a cheerful face on things, especially the weird shit.

It had been a while since he’d had a nasty new halfa surprise of his own crop up (although he didn’t dare hope he’d had his last; that would surely bring something on), but he still remembered how it felt.

How overwhelming, how hollow and intimidating the world could be when you were learning that you really knew almost nothing about yourself. That at any time, your body could do something totally out of your control.

Something you might not be able to handle.

He’d felt the fear in Jason, deep and bright and smothered a second later, but not before Danny felt it.

At least he could be here for the other guy; he wasn’t going to be going into the whole mess alone. Danny would make sure of that. Understandable as his reservations about reliving his death were, they would face it together, and he had to hope that might help.

Possibly with Jazz too, when it was actually time for that first transformation. Danny hadn’t even really started coping with dying when he’d first changed, and he’d been dead less than a minute; it had almost been part of the rebirth process. By the time he’d had to do it for a fight, he already knew what would happen.

For Jason… well, it had been a while, and even Danny could see he’d not done much more than paper over the cracks with bad ecto induced rage and carry on.

He was trying not to let Jason see how much he worried, but had a feeling it didn’t matter. Jason was plenty worried already.

Good news was… well, there wasn’t much good news. It was going to suck, no matter what, and if they didn’t do it in controlled conditions it’d be fucking awful.

But they did have some controlled conditions, and better yet? Probably wouldn’t be a problem for at least a couple more days.

As little as Danny wanted to talk about the whole… mess that was Jason’s death, Jason himself was all about the detailed planning. Back ups of back ups and all that.

It probably came with the Batman training.

(The mad compartmentalising totally did. Danny had spent enough time with Bruce in one single car ride to be sure about that.)

For the moment, he gave Jason as much support he could; contact, a reassuring aura, and a smile whenever he could, and absolutely no oogling of his mostly naked body while they were doing the checkup.

(Jason had mentioned a pit-related growth spurt last time, and this close Danny could see that the scars all over him were interspersed with stretch marks. Now that he actually looked the difference was super obvious; the different colour, the creasing where they indented the skin.

Danny definitely wasn’t thinking of licking them to see if he could feel the texture.

Or running his fingers over bared skin, which was admittedly less intimate than the licking thoughts he totally wasn’t having, but also seemed kinda more a betrayal. Because Jason wouldn’t question Danny touching him, but Danny would have Nefarious Motives.

Of. Textures.

But it was totally fine because he wasn’t having any of those thoughts at all.)

He just wished he knew what had caused that sudden panic attack Jason had earlier; it had come almost from nowhere, a wave of black and crushing dread that froze Danny’s already-iced core. It filled the room, filled his lungs, and would have cost him everything to not respond.

Part of him had wanted to shove Jason fully inside himself, store the much larger man in the hollow of his chest so that nothing could hurt him.

(And Danny could, technically, kinda do that. Jason didn’t have to be that much bigger than him, at least while Danny was in ghost form. Ghost form was all about self perception and, well, raw power.

Looking like his twink ass self was a deliberate choice, and one he’d never regretted until it meant not curling Jason into the infinite curls of his tail and protecting himself from the universe as a whole.)

Danny was super great at boundaries. Yup. One thousand percent completely normal about them.

But he’d been able to wrap his aura around Jason anyway, because that wasn’t a freakishly massive monster form that would freak him out further. They’d helped him calm down, helped him breathe, and Jason seemed…

Way too fine, frankly, even his aura had cleared, and Danny trusted that about as far as Sam could throw him. Bat-level compartmentalizing, for sure.

That was gonna get real weird when the more emotionally regulated ghost powers kicked in, but Danny was gonna cross his fingers and hope that it made Jason’s transition easier, not infinitely more fucked up. Jazz would be intolerable, for one thing.

Most of the rest of the appointment went well anyway; bar the surprise “Congratulations On Your Soul Bond” news (which he would not be thinking about too hard until he couldn’t possibly avoid it), it was pretty much what they’d expected.

Jason was doing good, Danny was gonna need to work around classes tomorrow maybe for another trip, and there was just the teeniest chance Jason’s fully formed core would manifest like, physically.

Shockwaves had been mentioned. Danny now had questions about how much of his original death light show had been the portal itself opening. Ones that could never be answered, but hey.

If/when Clockwork showed up, Danny was gonna prioritise Jason’s soul contract over his own curiosity for purely friend related reasons.

Danny didn’t like soul contracts of any sort at the best of times, unwritten ones that put a friend into his service? Yeah, maybe he was feeling just a little vindicated that Jason could see what he’d been freaking out about now.

Now that it was too late, but Danny was technically the Ghost King and Clockwork’s boss, so even if he couldn’t fix the whole mess until his coronation, it wasn’t gonna be a problem-problem.

If Clockwork tried to use the contract to push Danny into accepting his coronation more quickly, well, Danny had a real good win streak of fighting ancients in his pocket. And he’d double never get coronated if they spent the rest of eternity playing cat and mouse for Danny to beat Clockwork’s ass, so.

Not that Danny believed Clockwork would, really. The Observants? Abso-fucking-lutely, he’d be swinging before they finished a sentence, but Clockwork genuinely seemed to care.

He pruned the timelines with the ruthless efficiency of a gardener, but always to make the best outcome. The one where the least people got fucked over.

He’d absolutely fuck Danny over in the service of getting that best outcome, but Danny was also pretty sure he’d feel bad about it if he did, and that Clockwork would and had chosen to believe in him over his predicted outcomes more than once.

Danny trusted Clockwork.

Of course, now that he wasn’t trying to hide and actually wanted to see his mentor and regent, the bastard was nowhere to be found.

All jokes about the “Ever-Moving Now” aside, they weren’t directly making for Clockwork’s tower; the only way to find it was with Clockwork’s permission, so Danny didn’t usually bother. As a kid they’d thought they could stumble across it and surprise him, but these days?

Danny knew better. And Clockwork wasn’t exactly subtle; his lair had showed up around the very first metaphorical corner when he wanted Danny to come in once too often. And hadn’t been anywhere to be found when Danny searched, only to show up beside his fucking portal home.

Where it definitely hadn’t been on his way in.

It went where Clockwork wanted it, when he wanted it there. Danny totally wasn’t jealous.

It had been a while since he’d bothered hiding from Danny though; these past couple months, just being in the Zone had netted him an unwanted visit from his regent. Danny was beginning to suspect Clockwork wasn’t actually all that keen on ruling the realms, and was just planning to fob the job off on him.

Which, y’know, fair. Danny wasn’t exactly thrilled with it either. But it was his job as Danny’s mentor to protect him from this shit, right?

Now that Danny actually wanted to see him though, of course he wasn’t around. Which probably wasn’t actually a bad sign, or that he’d done something he didn’t want them to know about.

Clockwork was just a cryptic asshole, and apparently Jason had used up all of his “getting clear answers” cards in their first meeting. If only Danny had ever gotten a single damn one.

There was one other detour Danny wanted to make while in the Realms, but… today didn’t feel like quite the right time. Jason had already had a fucking day of it, and Danny didn’t wanna dump any more on him. Even if Ghost Writer’s library would be a nice trip for Jason, it was something they should talk about first.

And… probably ask Ghost Writer about first too.

If Danny ever remembered to do that.

So they’d thanked Frostbite, gotten Jason a bag of ecto ice chips (Danny wasn’t allowed any, it was totally unfair because he needed an energy boost too! But noooo, his core was “stabilised” and “complete” and he needed to “sleep” and “eat” for energy like a pleb. Unfair!), and agreed to come back as soon as Jason’s core stabilised.

Danny figured he could always come back on his own for a visit to Nocturn. That was gonna be a whole ass emotional mess; Dan was technically in the database Tucker had handed over, but Jason hadn’t mentioned it yet. Danny didn’t know if that meant he didn’t know, or was just being actually tactful.

He wasn’t even sure what he actually wanted to say yet, how to ask for what he wanted, and he should probably do this right. Nocturn hadn’t challenged him again since he’d become king, and had actually been super helpful so far, but… well, the spirit of dreams was proud, powerful, and Danny was pretty sure he helped specifically to have something on Danny. He’d already decided that his main job tonight was to help Jason relax, feel better, and work out if he needed to sicc the Sam-Tucker combo on Bruce Wayne’s social media.

…

Who was he kidding. Of course they’d be setting Sam and Tucker on the guy, as soon as Jason gave the green light.

Jason had never exactly gotten all the way through the explicit details of how Bruce had fucked up this afternoon, beyond just siccing Constantine on Jason, but honestly?

He didn’t have to. Jason had been almost tangibly frustrated from the minute he rolled up to Danny’s dorms, though he was gonna shoot Tucker a thank you for his little “revenge”, since it had cheered the guy up right away.

Danny was totally not considering a little spectral revenge for himself too. Mostly because Batman would probably know all about ghosts by now, and probably had Constantine doing his spectral condom act all over the cave.

But it wasn’t like Bruce liked Danny anyway, so really, what did he have to lose? Not like Jason hadn’t already shown whose side he came out on on this one.

Danny didn’t exactly know what having over protective parents was like, but Jason could not be more clear that he didn’t appreciate Bruce’s interference. There was clearly a lot going on with those two, and while they’d already talked about Jason’s death and technically he had permission…

Well, Danny didn’t wanna push. Ask literally any ghost, dying could leave you with a whole stack of issues. Jason wasn’t even close to the most homicidal Danny had met.

That poisonous rage, though… Danny pushed it from his mind. It didn’t matter, wouldn’t matter, Frostbite said Jason was doing well and Pitty would be out of him soon.

…

Maybe, just maybe Danny was also starting to worry what that might mean, since it sent Jason into a full panic attack and he’d seen what the rage was like when fully under control.

Maybe they’d bump up the schedule on taking care of those Lazarus pits. Get that Obsession dealt with, see if it calmed things down.

Yet another thing Danny would have to talk to Clockwork about, and was his irritatingly omnipresent mentor anywhere to be found? Of course not.

Which probably meant this wasn’t a timeline threatening problem. Yet.

What a comfort.

Which left them flying home through the Zone, and Danny totally wasn’t overthinking literally everything. He was being considerate, quiet, giving Jason time to process everything they’d seen that day.

Maybe himself too. Just a little. But it wasn’t like Jason was hurrying to start a conversation, and they both had a lot on their minds. It was a good, comfortable silence.

They had nearly reached his preferred portal spot too, so today’s quick trip to the Ghost Zone was nearly over, unless Danny actually wanted to go Clockwork-hunting… which, while probably less emotionally fraught, wasn’t likely to go great.

(Realms geography could be more than just hinky; they were infinite after all, so he tended to open portals back out in the same place he’d previously opened a portal from the living world in. It seemed to help, and he didn’t usually wind up in the wrong dimension that way.

Especially if there was a nearby, powerful anchor.

Going searching up and down the whole ass Zone for the Ever Moving Now? Yeah, that’d fuck his portal plans right up.)

Danny could feel a steady building trepidation rising in Jason like the tide, but he had no idea what the hell to do about it. Back there in the world were Bruce and Constantine, and all the problems that kept Jason balanced precariously on a knife edge.

Here in the Realms, all the problems were new and interesting and could almost all be solved by punching, which really suited both of them. Danny would have been tempted to suggest that sidebar to see Ghost Writer, but it was late, he had school in the morning, and his super handy time manipulating mentor was being a dick and wasn’t here.

A couple years ago, he’d have said fuck it and gone on the sidebar anyway, and probably not slept all night to help his friend. And had Jazz harping in his ear about “developing bodies”, “needing his sleep”, and “this is why you haven’t had a growth spurt since you were fourteen”.

Which totally wasn’t a valid argument or at all what had made him start taking care of himself. He just… well, he just actually really fucking liked his classes these days.

Against all the odds, Danny Fenton had gotten into a prestigious college, into an engineering program that actually let him stretch his talents. And take apart old or broken lab equipment from the other buildings for fun and profit.

And if he hadn’t slept the night before, they didn’t let him use the welding torch. Danny was pretty sure Clockwork might be behind that, since they somehow always knew.

Maybe that was how Nocturn was already betraying him… conspiring with Clockwork to make Danny sleep more and absorb his power?

Danny considered that seriously for about half a second before discarding it. Sure, Nocturn was the King of Sleep and an ancient, but he was also a canny motherfucker and not likely to mess up badly enough to accidentally become King of the Infinite Realms too.

For all that he wanted power, fucking no one wanted to deal with the Observants. Danny had practically begged.

It wasn’t like they had to go back to Gotham and then immediately straight to bed though. Just, y’know, something that wouldn’t take hours and hours. There had to be something they could do in the city that wouldn’t keep them up all night, but would keep Bruce Wayne off their asses.

Unless Jason had shit to do. Danny… kinda hadn’t asked. The only plans he’d known about for the day was busting out Waylon, and then the potential trip to Frostbite.

Maybe he hadn’t meant for it to go so late? Maybe Danny should ask?

Maybe Jason was getting sick of him.

Maybe Jason was getting a little too good at reading auras, since that thought barely settled in before he broke the silence.

“What the fuck?”

And alright, that might also have been a coincidence Danny decided, brows furrowing as he looked for what had caught Jason’s attention.

It all looked normal up ahead to him. Bright green zone, a couple purple islands (was that the ghost of a Bat Burger? Maybe they should check this place out more), the haze of black smog that always surrounded…

Ah.

Yeah, they hadn’t really had that conversation yet, though Danny had meant to bring it up on the way home. Riiiight up until all that overthinking started.

Guess that made this introduction time. Sort of put a stop to wondering how to cheer Jason up… although depending on how Jason felt, it might just be a distraction.

Danny pulled to a stop, Jason coming in close before stopping alongside him, just in front like he might need to protect Danny from something.

Or like he overshot the stopping. Could be either, really. But Danny had a feeling it was at least a combo. He and Jason were just too alike, but it looked almost automatic. Vigilante training, and Danny’d bust his ass later about treating him like a civilian.

Jason was the civilian here, and his citizen.

He cleared his throat, wondering how exactly to go about this, since ghosts didn’t have an introduction protocol that wasn’t “throw down”. And spent about half a second wondering if that was actually on the table before deciding against it.

Sure, most ghost introductions involved a friendly punch up, but Lady Gotham had always been a little different. And this wasn’t exactly your standard “new ghost who dis”.

“Right, yeah… we didn’t see her last time we were in the Zone. Jason, this is-”

“You think my own boy wouldn’t know me, Phantom?”

The voice came from all around them, low and dark and smokey sweet like molten chocolate with just a hint of whiskey. Jason stiffened and glared around harder, conscious caution battling with the sudden wave of relief from his core.

She spun herself from the smog of the city, like she always had. A tall, curvaceous woman built to Jack Fenton proportions, easily seven feet tall with dark mahogany skin and pitch black lipstick, perfect black hair coiled tight into an afro about her head. Smoky black makeup lined her eyes and caressed high, generous cheekbones in a line of clouds.

Long black gloves covered her hands and arms, one of which was held across her body, hand cupping the elbow of her other arm while the other held what probably was a full sized orange traffic cone like it was a cigarette holder. It looked wrong clasped in her hand, scale thrown off by her size. A thin plume of white smoke even spiralled from the wider end.

She wore a short flapper dress covered in layers of tassels, each of which flashed with beads of jet all along the length except for the last bead on a scattering of the strands, which were large, blood flecked pearls. Below the end of the skirt, her legs were lost in the spills of black smog surrounding her, though occasionally more flashes of pearl could be seen shifting through the murk.

It was her eyes that captured all of the attention though as she caught and held Jason’s gaze, a sly smile on those black lips. They glowed yellow from lid to lid, each pupil shaped like a bat.

The fight dropped out of Jason instantly, jaw dropping.

And yeah, maybe Danny should have expected that he’d… sort of recognize her? Jason was a Gothamite to the core, had been one of her true defenders since pixie boots were in style… right up until his own death.

And if Danny read that twitch right, it was costing him an effort not to automatically drop to one knee. So apparently that was just wired into him, and not just a Clockwork-thing. Good to know.

Her smile spread, showing sharp white teeth dripping with tar.

“My son,” she purred, her voice filling the air around them and sending almost visible ripples through the ectoplasm of the realms, “it is so good to finally meet you in person.”

In front of Danny, Jason tensed again. Whatever he’d recognized didn’t quite cut through bat-paranoia, apparently.

“Danny, who is this?” He asked cautiously, his voice low and not taking his eyes off the twin bat signals pointed at him.

Lady Gotham sighed heavily, taking a deep pull on her traffic cone and blowing out a billowing plume of smog. She gestured to Danny, who nodded quickly.

Totally not gonna “I told you so” the city spirit for the city he was living in. King or not, he had some manners.

“Jason, Lady Gotham. She’s…” he hesitated, not sure how exactly to phrase it.

Had they talked about city spirits? It felt like they had? But it had been so little time, he wasn’t sure.

Lady Gotham stepped back in smoothly, shooting Jason a laconic smile and spreading her arms.

“I am exactly what it sounds like. The beating heart of the city, born from the well of souls and desperate hopes of those who call it home. Every shadow in the alley, every gargoyle you shelter under, every parapet that caught your grapple and let you fly…”

Jason had stopped breathing, which was alright as long as they were in the Zone but might not be later, his eyes tracking desperately over the ghost before them. Her smile softened, becoming fond, tender, her free hand now reaching out towards him.

“… and you have been mine since the day you were born, Jason Todd.”

Jason was…

Jason was. He didn’t know what he was.

He hadn’t realised just how much noise his heart made thumping until the first time it stopped. Until he’d slammed back to life, heard its drumbeat thudding in his head, every second of every day.

This felt a little like that.

Like a sound he’d been hearing all of his life had gone quiet, and then come roaring back in full swing. It was too much, and not enough, and everything he’d missed in Nanda Parbat and around the world when he’d been training, left with only the thudding of his heart.

The sounds of Gotham. Normal city noises, most of them; the honks and occasional screeches of cars, the buzz of people. And then the screams, gunshots, mad cackling laughter that most cities usually only saw in designated areas.

And underneath it all, a low, throbbing pulse, a hum in the back of his head that meant he was home. That told him where he was, every street corner or shady alleyway.

He could navigate the city blindfolded, knew every gargoyle, every running gutter and rusty grate, listening to that beat. That beat that told him it was his place, the one thing that nothing and no one could ever take away from him, not even all the bullshit with the League of Assassins.

He hadn’t really noticed it going quiet in the Ghost Zone before. Which, y’know, they’d been busy. He’d had a lot on his mind, and… well, it happened any time he left the city.

Going away with the Outsiders, it didn’t matter if they crossed the bay to Metropolis or went to space, Jason knew when he wasn’t in Gotham. Knew when he woke up in a hospital bed whether or not he was home just from that beat.

He’d started thinking it might be the city’s ectoplasm, since Danny was so sure that was why he’d risen before. Might have explained why the Zone was a little different; it was all ectoplasm.

And then he’d looked at this woman made of smog and shadows and smoking a fucking traffic cone, and the beat almost brought him to his knees.

How could he not know her? They danced every night, her hand in his, guiding his guns, his grapple, cupped gently around the back of his neck and showing him where to look. Hiding him from Oracle’s cameras, pointing him at those who attacked the weak like he was the gun himself.

Familiar as his own shadow. Constant as gravity.

And it was that familiarity that pulled at every ounce of Bat training, that unconscious recognition and trust that forced him to doubt.

Hypnotists were the fucking worst. Magic users were all annoying, but Jason would tangle with any of the rest before dealing with a hypnotist. They were worse than Condiment King and Kite Man combined into some ketchup splattered hell kite.

And the more something deeper than the Pit whispered that this wasn’t hypnotism, wasn’t an outside influence, was just the deepest part of himself recognising the deepest part of his home, the harder he fought that feeling.

Until her hand reached for his, and she said his name, and his hand was in hers before he could stop himself.

Contact was… it was a lot.

A barrage of sounds, smells, the backs of every alley flashing through his mind as he was bombarded with memories. Memories? Or was that what was happening now?

Flashes of rooftops, bodies tensed in the shadows, goons working below in blissful ignorance that was about to be shattered. Breaking windows, sprays of bullets or gas or worse, moving and punching and taking down without killing.

He caught sight of Cass for a brief moment, her shape outlined in glowing shadows that definitely weren’t visible to the men running past her hiding place. But of course they weren’t; that was the point.

Cass was the perfect shadow anywhere on Earth, her stealth unparalleled by anything but actual magic, but in Gotham? In Gotham the darkness wrapped her in loving arms, held her close, made sure she was never found.

His baby sister, Gotham’s child even if she’d never been to the city until she was nearly an adult.

More flashes, Dick flying across an alley in Bludhaven (thankfully in his current suit, not the Discowing, which might mean this was the present? Or just that Jason had been seeing him so much more lately that there were just more memories of him like this?), and that made Jason pause.

Bludhaven wasn’t Gotham. That was literally the point. That was why Dick lived there.

And he heard her low chuckle, smoky and soft in his ear.

*Just across the bay, my dear? No, he would have to go so much farther to be free of me, to stop being mine.*

The voice was warm and fond, soft like crushed velvet and so full of affection and pride it tugged at something in Jason’s core.

Something from the little boy who’d watched Robin fly through the air and could barely believe he’d touched the same dream.

Lady Gotham hadn’t moved, her hand still in his in the exact same position, and while he couldn’t see her past the images to know if she’d spoken with mouth or mind he had a feeling he knew. She was in his head, in his heart, and he’d not spoken aloud.

Before Jason would work out how to reply, if he even wanted to reply, his attention was caught by something else in the cascade of images.

A dark spot, not in every scene (at least not that he noticed), but often enough. Something that looked like a shadow, but just a fraction deeper than the rest, a fraction darker, that moved when all the shadows around it were still.

Now that he looked for it he could see it everywhere, the sight of it sending a shiver up his spine that made his hair stand on end. It wasn’t fear; Jason was well acquainted with fear, as little as it bothered him.

This was… tension, anticipation, recognition, the same thing he’d felt when there hadn’t been an Outsiders mission in a while and Roy had decided to hunt him for sport. Something, someone so familiar, with such a strong place in his life, someone he knew was damn capable, setting their sights on him.

(It was always play when Roy did it, a game to keep them both on their toes and get a different kind of training in. Jason didn’t know if Roy ever hunted the others; asking felt like cheating somehow.)

And then suddenly the shadow turned in a different way, its attention locking on to Jason in return and adrenaline shot through him like a bolt of lighting.

It had to be live. Or the shadow knew when someone saw its image. But it had looked back, raising the hair on the back of his neck until it felt like he’d become a Studio Ghibli character, and it was still looking at him.

His hands itched for his guns, the All-Blades, the Fright Gun, and he felt the large, hot hand still holding his tighten for just a second, felt Lady Gotham’s chuckle through his whole body like he was a speaker, and then he was looking at her face again, fond and smiling and larger than life.

“Now now, my sons,” she purred softly, definitely speaking with her mouth this time even if it was just as warm as when he’d heard her in his head, “play nicely.”

Had she been that tall before? She’d been taller than him, certainly, her hand completely enfolding his the way Bruce’s had when Jason had first come off the streets, but now she loomed almost twice as large.

Still holding his hand in hers, only now his was positively dainty, a doll’s hand held by the child who adored it. Her thumb was almost the size of his whole hand, brushing gently over the back.

She could probably snap him in half in an instant.

He’d probably let her.

Her smile spread, reacting to the thought, and her other huge hand came up to gently cup his face, all the pride and love he’d only ever seen from Catherine Todd before.

“My brave little knight…” her eyes closed for a moment and she sucked in a deep breath, her whole body gently expanding as she savoured… something. Then those signal eyes opened and fixed on him, full of lazy satisfaction. “Your belief is so sweet.”

The effect was somewhat spoiled by the traffic cone now pinched effortlessly between two fingers. It hadn’t changed size, which Jason supposed had to be his answer.

She totally wasn’t that big before. And apparently it was his fault? His… belief?

Danny was hovering in the more figurative, mother hen way now (literal not being optional at the moment), and Jason could feel his tension now that he was focused. He’d gotten closer, his aura putting him just behind Jason’s shoulder, but hadn’t gone further.

Not moving between them, which he already had the feeling would have been Danny’s preference after the gala. Jason would tease him about that if he hadn’t already put himself between the stranger and Danny without thinking. At least Danny hadn’t actually done it.

Whether that was because they weren’t in any danger or Danny was waiting for his go ahead didn’t actually matter; Jason couldn’t quite believe either of them would walk away from a fight with Lady Gotham no matter that Danny was the king.

A part of him deeper than the pit knew that she would never fight him. That it was his job to fight for her, to make sure she never dirtied her hands more than the streets already did.

Forcing himself to suck in a breath - and wondering why his lungs ached - Jason gave her hand a hesitant squeeze. Tried not to think about how ludicrously small his hand was tucked into the curl of her fingers.

“Uh… I’d say it’s nice to meet you, but…” he paused, words failing him, and wondered how the actual fuck you were supposed to talk to a whole ass city’s soul all at once.

Lady Gotham laughed softly, giving his cheek (and consequently whole damn head) a gentle pat before pulling away, leaning back to sit as if in an invisible chair and regard him.

“But we’ve known each other from the day you were born,” she agreed gently, her voice still heartbreakingly warm.

No one had ever been so open in their love for him. It all but coloured the air in a rosy pink.

And alright, that was probably at least 90% because his family were in constant contest for Most Emotionally Constipated Soul On Earth and Alfred was British, but Jason still had no idea how to handle it. He had her full, undivided attention, which part of him knew he’d never had in the physical city.

She had so many protectors watching over her, even the crankiest parts of Jason couldn’t begrudge her that. He wasn’t exactly sure he was enjoying it now.

“Ask,” she said softly, gently, the word still echoing around them but in a way that suddenly seemed more enclosed. More private. The echo of a bathroom instead of a grand cavern.

Sucking in another deep breath, Jason realized he had about a thousand questions. But he had to start with the most pressing.

“That shadow, what was it? It was… following the others, all of them. And you called it your son?”

She’d called him her son too, and for the first time since he’d died the word didn’t rankle. But that could be the next question.

The smile she gave him was blatantly approving and she waved a hand gently, a patch of smog in her surrounding cloud suddenly taking on a darker, more solid shape. It wasn’t the shadow itself, there was none of the buzzing adrenaline or life in its movements. Just a facsimile.

He still kind of wanted the All-Blades. Just, y’know, for evil testing.

“Yes, your… brother,” Lady Gotham said slowly, rolling the word over her lips as if tasting it. “That is the Curse of Gotham. Older than the city itself, technically, but before more people came it was simply a malevolence on a patch of land.”

She waved a hand, dispelling the temporarily solidified smog easily.

“It was only once the city was founded, then filled with souls and then despair and superstition and belief that he became a true Curse. As you are mine, the rogues are his. Bearing his mark, flying his flag, putting fear and doubt into every soul as they huddle against the chaos and swear to each other that there is a darkness here like no other.”

Somehow, this did not endear Jason to his “brother”. It didn’t please Danny either, who leaned just a little into Jason’s shoulder, a sudden wariness pinging through his aura.

“Wait, so the curse is older than you? Then why are you…” he trailed off, cheeks flushing suddenly as he asked what Jason was pretty sure was the least important question.

Gotham bestowed him with a gentle, somewhat less fond smile too. Favouritism where he was the favourite kinda make Jason’s skin buzz.

“As I said, it was the city which gave him form. Land can hold a myriad of curses, and any city built here would certainly have felt his affects. But belief…” she paused for a moment, lips pursing as she considered her next words.

Yellow eyes flicked back towards Jason, measuring him, and her smile spread into something distinctly self satisfied.

“Belief matters, for the Neverborn. It’s food and drink, our lifeblood, a source of power. And people believed in Gotham long before they made more than jokes about the curse. No one says that Gotham is on cursed land; they speak of Gotham’s Curse. And so he is mine.”

Jason got the distinct impression that while everything was well established now, it had been more touch and go at one point… close enough that having won was still a point of pride. He didn’t even realize he was smiling back.

It was also probably what she’d meant before… when she’d grown. His belief fed her. Which… kinda meant that him thinking they couldn’t possibly win a fight was a self fulfilling prophecy.

Not quite sure if that was funny or worrying, Jason dismissed the thought and refocused. Some curse was still stalking his family after all, and probably him when he went back to the living world.

“So if this Curse owns all the rogues… is he going to try and hurt the others?” He asked cautiously. Because if none of this was new, the Curse had been stalking them all since they put on the cowls.

How many close calls…

No. Jason hadn’t been in Gotham when Joker got him. He’d thought it was the arrogance of youth that had made him feel invulnerable in Gotham as a Robin, but now he knew there really had been hands hovering over him.

Hands that hadn’t dropped him until he’d left the city. Half the world away and all alone, still sure he was invulnerable… right up until he wasn’t.

He only realized his attention had been drifting when he snapped back, a large and achingly gentle thumb brushing his cheek. Now bigger than his head, still smelling of the smog of the city.

Lady Gotham smiled gently, the dark bats in her eyes crinkling.

“He is no danger to you,” she told him softly, focusing on the question that was asked. Not his wandering thoughts, though he got the feeling she knew anyway.

Drawing back, she looked thoughtfully from him to Danny, taking another drag on her traffic cone, apparently thinking. Held the smogs in for a long moment, until she seemed to come to a conclusion and blew out a long stream.

“The Curse makes the rogues; takes those already on the edge of something bad, and pushes them over. Turns the stagnation of despair into frantic, violent action. It is what he is, what he does… a lingering rot land deep, which feeds on the darkness and breeds more in the souls of Gotham’s inhabitants.”

That definitely sounded like something dangerous to Jason, but who was he to interrupt Gotham herself? A sidelong glance made him wonder if she’d caught that thought too; just how well could she read him?

She waved the smouldering traffic cone in his general direction, blanketing him in a wave of almost comforting black smog.

“And yet, you notice, so few of the rogues seek to permanently remove any of your heroes from the board?”

Danny sucked in a sharp breath beside him, Jason’s heart clenched, but before either could protest, Lady Gotham gave a heavy sigh and inclined her head, smile slipping entirely for the first time.

“The Joker is an unfortunate exception. There is… something worse there, deeper, darker, but I will explain later. For now, consider the others. So many who could, so many chances that they could have taken to kill each of you. I would not allow it, of course, yet even those who wish to see Batman permanently defeated rarely even try to end his life. It is not for no reason.”

There was a true solemnity, almost pain in her face as she spoke of the Joker, eyes fixed on Jason and full of sorrow. Yet nothing in her aura, no push of regret-sadness or anything similar. Nothing to affect his own emotions, and Jason had the feeling that that was deliberate.

As if she knew how much he hated being controlled, pushed around. Or she just… didn’t want to do that to him. It was tough to say, but he was also self aware enough to know he was puzzling that out rather than thinking much about her words.

Of course the Joker was something worse than the fucking Curse of Gotham. Naturally. And y’know what else he was?

Not Jason’s fucking problem right now.

Lady Gotham had paused with him, waiting for his acknowledgment apparently, and Jason gave a stiff nod for her to continue. He’d asked the damn question. He needed to focus on the answer.

A gentle incline of her head the only sign she’d seen anything at all, Lady Gotham continued.

“The Curse will not harm your family, and nor do most of the rogues seek to actually remove you, because your family’s activities are integral to powering the Curse,” she said simply, and that snapped any fragments of Jason’s attention firmly back into place as he stiffened.

Danny tensed beside him as well, still hanging back, but it was Jason who spoke. He didn’t need help on this one.

“Wait, what? How the hell are we helping the Curse?!” He demanded, brows furrowing.

If the Curse made the rogues by taking people on the edge and throwing them off, sure, that kinda made sense. Gotham had always been a cesspit of crime, but it used to be at least 85% less brightly spandex coloured before the Bat came along.

Much as Jason didn’t think Bruce took his mission far enough, he could admit that at least the “normal” gang violence had died down significantly. For one thing, most of the old gangs had been driven out by the rogues, or absorbed by converts like Penguin and Black Mask. There wasn’t much space in Gotham these days for just run-of-the-mill crime.

And Jason himself had gouged a chunk out of what was left, which he used to find extremely satisfying… but how would that help the Curse? Unless… the Curse had pushed that darkness in him…

Lady Gotham shook her head, that fond smile curling sadly at her lips as she reached down to gently tip his chin up with a massive finger.

“No, my dear… you are not helping the Curse. He could no longer exist without you,” she explained softly, the dark and dusty smogs building heavily around them. Just seeing them made Jason’s throat itch…

He clenched his jaw shut, focusing on her face instead. Waiting for that to make some fucking sense.

Lady Gotham hummed thoughtfully, holding his chin a moment longer before releasing him, waving a hand vaguely through the smoggy air.

“It is… contrast. There are no shadows without the light, no sweet without bitterness, no… no hope without despair. And no despair without hope.” She seemed pleased with the metaphor, bat signal eyes bright in suddenly building gloom. Which then fixed on him.

“When people lose hope… when they give up on Gotham, accept the awfulness in their lives as mundane, it drains them of their will, their power to believe. If nothing fights the Curse, pushes back on the tides of corruption, then who’s to say there is a curse at all? Just mundane bad governance. Certainly nothing unique about that, in this world.”

A hand cut through thick black clouds and Jason realized abruptly that he’d lost sight of everything but her eyes, shining in the darkness. And then the shadows spiralled in front of him, whipped by her fingers into a familiar black silhouette.

“But the Bats… the birds, all of Gotham’s caped defenders? No other city in the world could fail to be safe under your constant attentions. No other city could take the stream of wealth and charity Bruce Wayne pours into it and be less than utopian. And yet Gotham remains, a far better city than the one you were born in, but still one of the most dangerous places to live in this country.”

The shadowy bat began to glow, lined in a bright golden light, yet somehow it only made the surrounding shadows all the darker. It swished its cape, striking at invisible foes, and the clouds curled in around it.

“What else but a curse could cause this? And what a powerful curse it must be, with a new vigilante showing every month, and still not a dent?”

The blackness around them grew darker still, the bat’s glow suddenly seeming weak and fragile. Jason’s chest lurched, his heart screaming to reach out and catch the faltering figure, pull it close and keep it safe, but he stamped it down.

It wasn’t Bruce in danger. It was just a light-show, a visual demonstration. And it sure as hell didn’t need his protection.

And then a skewer of pure blackness plunged through its heart and the golden glow winked out, leaving them in pitch darkness.

Jason’s heart clenched, a dread chill running down his spine and he spun around, searching for Lady Gotham and her searchlight eyes, but he couldn’t see anything. Not even Danny, who always glowed faintly in his ghost form.

Still, her voice continued, completely calm and unshakeable.

“If the symbol falls… if the Bat is broken, the Curse will gain a great deal of power for a day. Perhaps a generation. And then people will forget, and forget that they believed, and it will wane once again. A much worse loss, now that he knows the power he can have.”

The billowing clouds of darkness pulled back and the glowing green of the Ghost Zone almost made Jason shield his eyes. They hadn’t moved, of course they hadn’t; Danny was still right beside him, his aura a heavy throb of new understanding-exasperated-mildly amuse.

Which… well, yeah, now that he could breathe again Jason could admit it had all been pretty dramatic. If she was his first ghost, he’d have assumed it was just a Gotham thing, but Danny was also a dramatic little shit, so.

Sucking in a deep breath, Jason blew it out slowly, calming the beating of his heart. Lady Gotham looked quite pleased with herself, still sat reclined a little ways away.

It was one hell of a powerpoint, and he was pretty sure he’d got the gist of things. Not that it made any of this make sense, but it was pretty much what he’d expect from magic.

“So… the Curse makes the rogues, to make people think the city is cursed, but it also wants to keep the vigilantes safe…” a phrase from an old book tugged at his mind, and Jason couldn’t resist a slight smile, “because you gain status by the quality of your enemies?”

It startled a short laugh from Danny, quickly stifled as Lady Gotham beamed her approval.

“In essence, yes. The struggle will be unending, because it must be, but we have come to… an understanding of late. Despair and death feed my Curse in the immediate sense, but when both are only to be expected… it’s a paltry meal. There is inevitability, even boredom, when it’s all despair all the time. So now the city has hope, and I prosper.”

Lady Gotham preened, plumping up her perfectly round curls, the same self satisfied smile she’d had when mentioning how she had become the dominant spirit. Maybe the Curse hadn’t quite worked out just how much she got out of their little understanding too. Then she shrugged.

“And the rogues have their little obsessions, their tricks and games, and sometimes there is despair and sometimes there is death. But what matters is that you are there to fight against it, to nobly win the battle…”

“Even if we’ll never win the war,” Jason finished grimly, his mood souring.

Wasn’t that what he’d always told Bruce? That his damn rules, his “No Killing” standard meant that everything else he did was pointless? That just locking people up in the bloody sieve that was Arkham was never going to change anything?

Lady Gotham’s smile softened to something bittersweet and sad, and she nodded gently.

“Gotham city will never know peace, Jason,” she told him gently, and suddenly she was smaller again, scant feet taller than him, and holding out a hand he’d be able to close his own around. “It will never be like any other city. But the only reason I stand at all is because people like you will look at this city, with its soot and its smuts and its people who have nowhere else to go, and decide that it is worth fighting for.”

Those eyes were fixed on him again, black bats on yellow lights, and then suddenly… suddenly the irises were black, and the bats a familiar deep red. It might have been a blink; it might just have been that sharp moment of change.

“There is one way that the war will end,” she told him softly, stepping closer through the void until he could have counted the pearls skittering across her dress, and every jet bead around them, if he could have looked away from her face.

“On the day that those heroes turn away, that all else give up on Gotham and turn their backs. When no one stands against the tide of night and it is dragged down and away into the dark heart of the Cursed land beneath. It is only hope that stands in the way of that end, my Jason Todd… my Robin.”

His brow furrowed and a fleeting smirk dashed across her lips, the faintest flicker of her gaze to Danny beside him, and Jason understood. It wasn’t Robin’s colours in her eyes, no matter what Damian had done to the suit.

Her Red Hood.

But she wouldn’t out him to Danny, not even now.

His gaze fell to her hand again, suddenly bare and dark and open and nails that were a rich, bloody red. His blood, and Bruce’s, and every vigilante, and every citizen, and every rogue that stood, and fought, and died for her. Every life that was ruined or ended, all in this fight that could never be won, only lost.

He met her gaze again, felt the red bat he’d emblazoned across his chest once more pierce his soul.

Because… this was what it really meant, to wear the bat. Not just that he had forgiven Bruce, that they’d reconciled, that he’d rejoined the family. That he wasn’t going to kill unless he had to, and there was no other choice.

No.

He wore the bat because he wasn’t just the Red Hood, a name he’d stolen from the damn clown and carved across the city in blood until people only thought of him when they said it. He wasn’t the crime lord who’d filled a bag with the heads of his rivals’ best lieutenants, took Crime Alley in a bloody fist, and was just another gang leader. Just a bigger, scarier, nastier guy than the people who’d wanted that alley before to strip mine its people and poison its kids.

And sure, being that guy had worked. It kept the worse gangs out. Kept his street kids fed and occupied, and mostly out of jail. Did what all of Bruce’s crusade had never managed to do; he’d cleaned up Crime Alley.

And it hadn’t been enough.

Hadn’t made anyone feel safe; not when all they had was Red Hood’s whim that kept them from going right back to the mess they’d been left in.

The Alley was different too, this last year. He’d always tried, as Hood and Jason. Wanted people to come together, build a community, to feel safe in their home and protect it.

To feel like someone finally, actually cared about them. That someone cared about Crime Alley for its people, not what they could take from them. That they would be defended.

And people had played along, back before he took the bat. They’d come out, cleaned up the street, fixed up some store fronts and made careful conversation, because that was what you did when the man with the big guns said he wanted you to play nice.

And they’d been wary, cautious, watching the Hood like he’d snap at any second no matter what Jay told them. And he’d known they were just… humouring him. Didn’t believe in it. And he’d thought the only way to get them to see was to keep going, keep giving back until they realized he really meant it all.

He’d patrolled since the first day he’d come back, but it had been the day he’d gone out in his modified uniform, the red bat on his chest, that things finally changed.

His working girls and boys didn’t straighten up when he approached. The street kids didn’t run when his shadow passed overhead. People looked up into the night and they smiled, thanked him, reached out to the gang and left little red bat signs in their windows.

With the red helmet and black body armour, he’d been just another thug to fear. And oh, he’d fucking hated it at first, turned his vision to sickly green that all this acceptance only came with B’s goddamn bat on his chest.

When the kids tagged it on walls, dumpsters, taunting threats at the edge of their territory to every other gang in Gotham, they finally had a bat-approved protector.

Never enough that he’d taken the bat off, though, and now he could see what all those little signs really said.

“We have a protector too.”

“Someone will find justice for us.”

And, his personal favourite (love those little Alley bastards), “Our bat’s bigger than yours.”

Bruce had put the shape on the symbol when he became the night and wanted to drive fear into the hearts of criminals instead of the ordinary citizens, but it wasn’t really his. It was Superman’s S, the symbol of the House of El, the symbol of Lady Gotham turned to something humans could see.

The symbol of a protector, a guardian, and uniquely Gotham’s own.

It was all there, in those red on black eyes, in that soft, knowing smile.

“Have you ever backed down from a fight just because you knew you couldn’t win, Jason Todd?” She asked softly, so softly, and he had to smile back.

She’d known him since the day he was born, and there was only one thing he could say to that.

He took her hand.

“Never.”

——————

LISTEN Y’ALL I HAVE BEEN HOLDING THIS LADY GOTHAM REVEAL SO CLOSE TO THE CHEST.

HER DRESS. HER HAIR. HER GODDAMN TRAFFIC CONE! Anyway she’s wonderful and she’s perfect and she will be back next chapter too, but fuck knows when that will be, so! Hopefully a little less time than this last one, but We Shall See.

This chappy will go up on AO3 tomorrow, I usually try and do same day but I gotta be up early Yet Again and I still…. Haven’t done replies on the last one, so 😅

Wish me luck for the next chapter, I have SO MANY things planned and the outline is just sizzling and we are finally out of introductions territory and it’ll be time for the Plot! Ah, my beloved plot, which will hopefully pick up and speed things along a little more in-fic timewise…

Next Chapter:

Tag List: @welcometosasakiworld @someonebored0100 @stealingyourbones @starkcravingmad @frostedthroughghost @akikkobara @rainbowbunny0159 @littlefeather345 @violet-catsarelife @serasvictoria02 @wolfjackle @blacksea21090 @secretdestinywerewolf f @anime-hipster-the-amazing @undead-essence @skitscratched @blackroserelina @snoodly-boop @mayoota-blog @xysidhe @little-apricot-the-writer @chaoticmistake e @the-legal-shipper @bun-fish h @aroranorth-west @demon-cat-goes-woof f @perfectwastelandcreation @onyxlightdragon @larks-and-katydids @peachesandcreamfemboy @jesus-camp-the-sequel @may-rbi @mothman-the-mothman87 @viyatrix @stargirl1331 @idfk-man10 @thedepressedrobin @skulld3mort-1fan @rootsmudge @ravenshadow17 @cankoking @phantom-dc @mentalcarebear @magic-pincushion @redamancyardor @lyra689 9 @itsparadoxlacuna @alcorbearson @asphyxia778 @why-must-i-be-like-this s @tkiesai @greenpyrowolf @frivolous-pastel @honeysuckletook @adorkable1291

#dp x dc #dpxdc #dc x dp #dcxdp #danny fenton dead and loving it #chapter 17 part 2 #well you did get down on one knee #AND HE’LL DO IT AGAIN #jason 10000% has a worship kink he really just wants to worship someone #danny meanwhile is just a lil freak and i love that for him

162 notes · View notes

im-totally-not-an-alien-2 · 2 years

Text

Mermaid au where Danny gets thrown into another dimensions ocean and turned into a mer. Unbeknownst to him, the batfam meets a similar fate a month later and crash into the ocean. They have a much harder time adjusting to thier new bodies and have to make adjustments for the new watery environment. Meaning they had to ditch most of thier gear in a hidden location until they found a way to return to thier human forms (not that thier pants will ever be of use again lol)

They swim to the surface to talk and hopefully come up with a plan, which is difficult due to the new set of sharp teeth some of them had. It was obvious most of them were different types of mer. All of them had scales, fins and scaly arms from thier elbows to thier very sharp/ claws. Tim was all black with a dull and unnoticeable red tent to the tip of his claws and sharp edges to his fins. It didn't take a lot to prove he was poisonous.

Cass was very brightly colored to her surprise. Her tail was colored like a sunset and she looked the least threatening of the group and the most like a traditional mermaid.

Stephanie was overjoyed to be her favorite color! Her purple scales came in coordinated patches throughout her body, like a sort of armor. Her stomach, upper back, elbows and knuckles all had the thick hard scales decorating them. It was clear her species was made for combat.

Bruce and Damian looked largely the same with the difference being thier colors. They had claws like Tim, but no sharped fins or poison.

Dick looked the least like a mer out of all of them. His tail was long and thick, his fins were small but flexible which allowed him to be fast and limber in the water, doing loops and flips in a blur of blue and black. He was having an absolute ball.

Jason was the...shiniest of the group. His orange, red and gold scales glistened in any amount of light and attracted fish to them that would be immediately adopted by Damian. Jason quickly grew annoyed at all the fish coming to peck at his scales and started coating himself in mud...that would just fall off due to the smoothness of his scales. He was not having a great time.

Danny was lovely. He had long flowing fins like that of a beta fish sprouting all over his tail. His body looked like it was swathed in inky black silks at all times. This, combined with the scales on his arms ruching up to his mid biceps made him feel like a lady at one of those galas Sam hated so much. He felt pretty. His past experience flying through the sky with his ghostly tail was much appreciated now that he had to figure out this mess of scales and muscle.

His Phantom form was much the same, except he was entirely white and glowed like a star in the dark of the ocean, leaving him feeling (and looking) like a bride on thier wedding day. His friends could never find out about this or the teasing would never end.

Danny came into contact with this pod of mer a few days after they arrived. They were racing towards him while he was in his Phantom form, which wasn't unusual for fish, but mer? He had never made contact with any of the other mer unless one came up to him to flirt or try to kill him for being too close to thier territory.

Deciding to err on the side of caution, Danny kept turning invisible whenever he saw them coming his way. It wasn't too long before the batfam came up with a plan to sneak up on the other mer. They sent Tim, the most well defended and darkest colored of them to talk to him and maybe get some answers. Or at least directions.

Things went wrong almost immediately. Phantom flared his fins the moment Tim tapped his shoulder and caught him in the silky appendages. What no one realized was that his fins weren't made of cartilage or whatever, but were genuinely made of thin, strong muscle for capturing prey. Toxins filled Tim's body leaving his body to go slack in the others hold, and Danny was wounded by the razor edge of Tim's fins as Tim's own poison entered Dannys veins.

Everyone was panicking.

2K notes · View notes

flamingpudding · 8 months

Text

Ghost Twins: Lost in Gotham (Sneak Peak)

You guys on tumblr are awesome. I honestly love all the ideas you all came up with. It also sparked my own inspiration. That it why I am attempting to make my Prompt into a longer fanfic. Thou I love all the ideas you all had, my mind decided to go down a slightly different route for the prompt. While on vacation with my family with a pending / possible radio silence, i will continue to work on this (its the fanfic project I mentioned in another post). Though I have no idea if I will get it done during that time or not. That is why as a little thank you and appreciation, I decided to post a little sneak peak of what I want / will incorporate into that fanfic...

Tho honestly I love all the rebogs and comments on the original prompt post and highly recommend for others to check it out too and would love to see more even based on these sneak peaks! :D

Original Prompt

Anyway on to the sneak peak!

Waking up disoriented was one thing but waking up to a mirror image of what you looked like at six years old in old family photos was highly alarming. Danny's eyes snapped open the moment the blurry image before him cleared. At the same time the kid next to him also woke up, eyes snapping open and a scowl decorating their face once the other boy took notice of him.

"What the fuck kind of situation did you get us in this time?"

"I did nothing!" Danny relled at how squeaky his voice sounded, one hand flying up to his throat.

"Well then how do you explain the fact that you are six years old twerp!"

There was only one person that continuously called Danny twerp just to annoy him, so the six years old before him was Dan. Wait… did Dan just say Danny was six years old? He looked down at himself and noticed how small his hands were, wide eyed he looked back up at Dan who was still scowling at him.

"But… you are six years old…" Well that got Dan to look down at himself and the other bleached when he looked at his own hands. "What the fuck…"

Okay so whatever mess they got in, they apparently were now stuck in six years old bodies that looked near the same as what Danny must have looked at that age. Near the same, because aside from photos his mom had hung up at home he couldn't be too sure.

They both looked around to get a feel for their surroundings. Only now noticing that they were in a snowy park, there were some high buildings surrounding the park but the falling snow was making it hard to discern them. Danny and Dan also noticed that they had woken up in a pile of snow and were in fact not feeling cold at all.

[....]

"Hey, Twerp. Look at the mirror." Dan suddenly said and Danny turned around to stare at his body double confused. "What?"

"Just turn around and look at the mirror." The other only said again, still confused Danny did as told and nearly screamed. Staring at his mirror image, eyes wide and mouth open in shock, Danny couldn't believe what he was seeing. He looked over at Dan, silently asking if he was seeing the same thing he did. Dan only nodded, removing his own shirt and seeing something similar painted all over his own six-year-old body.

"I don't remember having scars like that at the age of six." He grimly muttered, one finger tracing a long scar running from his right shoulder to his left side and disappearing below his trousers.

"Me neither…" Danny whispered, still in shock as his eyes roamed around his mirror image taking in all the scars their clothes had previously hidden. They didn't look faded but they didn't hurt either when they moved, wounds healed to the point that they wouldn't bother them but still look like fresh scars.

There was one thing both their bodies had in common. Danny carefully touched his right shoulder with his finger tips while Dan eyed his own left shoulder. Both had the same symbol tattooed onto their skin, while neither had any experiences with tattoos, they both could tell that it wasn't a professional one by the way the inked skin looked scared and most likely was only done to brand their bodies.

Danny felt a mixture of sadness, frustration and anger run through him the longer he stared at the scars and the branding.

"These aren't our original bodies, twerp." Danny could only numbly nod at his different future self's words, wondering if the other was feeling the same he did about their bodies. "Whatever the bastard Clockwork did or wants us to do, it involved us waking up in entirely different bodies. Remember these shitty novels Ellie was getting into?"

"Don't call them shitty! There are some pretty good ones too!" Dan raised an eyebrow and Danny just huffed crossing his arms.

"My point is. She was reading about transmigration stories and it looks like the bastard threw us right into one of them."

"That would explain why our powers are wonky, they are not used to the body we are in. But why…"

A knock on the bathroom door resounded in the room and both boys stiffened and tensed, eyes wide as they stared at the door. "Are you two boys okay in there?"

The door knob jiggled and Danny dived for his discarded shirt as Dan's eyes narrowed. Thank the ancients, but not that fucker clockwork, Dan had remembered to lock the door beforehand.

"Fuck off!" He growled out to which Danny gave him a disapproving stare, before shouting back: "We are fine. We will be out in a bit."

"If you say so." Bruce sounded like he wasn't believing them but did not attempt to open the door again. Dan grumbled and listened for footsteps that sounded like they were leaving. Once sure the man was no longer standing by the door he turned to Danny still grim.

"Listen, we can talk about what the fuck is going once we get away from these fruitloops. Till then we will have to watch what we talk about twerp." Looking a lot more serious than earlier Danny nodded in understanding.

"The ghost zone is connected to a lot if not all dimensions, once we get our powers under control we can find out what happened to the original owners of these bodies and return to our home. I should still be able to open a portal even if this is not my body, there is enough ambient ectoplasm to supplement what I am missing."

Dan nodded, they had a plan and the first step was to get away from the billionaire fruitloop family they were dropped off with.

[...]

Clockwork merely chuckled at the children's baffled looks. "One thing about being the Ancient of Time of all Dimensions is and please let me put it into your more modern speech: If you mess with time, sooner or later, you will end up on my shit-list and your dimension has enough people that mess with time that I am surprised it did not implode yet."

[...]

"Didn't I say it before. Those that mess with time will end up on my shit-list. That also includes you my king. These boys were my best alternative."

#dpxdc #writing project #danny fenton #danny phantom #dan phantom #de aging #de aged dan #de aged danny #clockwork shenanigans #batfam #crossover #fanfic in progress #i will be working on this during my offline time #sneak peak for a furture fic #Ghost Twins: Lost in Gotham

239 notes · View notes

sizzleporkandmmm · 2 months

Text

Birdie

Golfer!Danny x Reader 18+ (afab anatomy) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT YOU WILL BE BLOCKED.

gender neutral terms, vagina haver, multiple orgasms, soft dom danny, soft smut, very light daddy kink (it's mentioned once), praise kink, unprotected sex (wrap it!), oral both receiving, p in v, aftercare - i think that's it, sorry if i missed anything!

Danny comes home to a homemade lunch after a morning on the course and shows you just how much he appreciates you.

A/n: gc asked for soft smut so here we go 🤭

you had just finished prepping lunch when you heard the door slam. "in here babe!" you called from the kitchen, wiping your hands on your shirt and moving from the counter to greet your boyfriend.

"hey my love," he said, smiling at you, leaning forwards to plant a sweet kiss on your lips, resting a hand on your waist. He peered over your shoulder to see the lunch spread you had put on the kitchen table. "babe, you made me lunch?" he asked sweetly, grip tightening around you. "i wanted to do something special! you've been working so hard and," he cut you off with a kiss. "you're just the sweetest. how did i get so lucky?" he cupped your jaw and pulled you in deeper, swiping his tongue across your bottom lip, begging for entrance. you pulled away, panting slightly, as he moved down your neck. "f-fuck danny, the lunch..." you gasped, reveling in the way his tongue worked at your skin.

"it'll still be there when we're done. besides there's something more delicious right in front of me." he whispered, returning to your lips as he slowly walked you backwards until your back hit the counter. his hands migrated towards your chest, toying with your shirt before slipping it off, exposing your skin. he placed soft kisses down your chest, teeth dragging ever so slightly. you moaned again, mouth dropping open, eyes slipping shut. "you gonna be good for me baby?" he asked, hands reaching down to unbutton his pants. you followed his lead and sank down to your knees, "you're always good for me huh? such a sweet baby," he trailed as you looked up at him through your eye lashes.

you placed your hands on his hips, leaning forward to kiss the tip of his hardening cock through his underwear, watching the precum leak through the fabric. "fuck, baby," he groaned, hand threading into your hair, keeping that nice firm grip that makes you go weak in the knees. you pressed more open mouth kisses, trailing down to his bare thighs, marking them along the way, before finally pulling his boxers down.

you giggled as his hard cock smacked against his stomach, letting his beautiful sounds wash over you. "so good for me baby," he whispered, taking in the view. ever so slowly, you placed a hand around him, lightly grazing the skin, before placing a kiss against the tip, slowly slipping it past your lips. as you sank further down, taking him into your throat, you let out a low hum, relaxing your throat as he thrusted gently into your warm mouth. you never knew giving someone else head could feel so good, but the way his hands felt in your hair went straight to your heat. "so beautiful," you heard him say from above you, as he rocked slowly into your mouth. you felt his hips stutter, a tell tale sign he was about to cum, so you tightened your grip on his hips, pulling him deeper to the hilt, until your nose was pressed against his pelvis, buried in the dark hair that surrounds him. "shit," he hissed as you hummed, hollowing your cheeks around him.

you swirled your tongue, curling it around what you could reach, peering up at him, watching the way his chest flexed, head tipped back. "so good baby," he grunted as you pulled off with a pop. you could tell he was seconds away as you kitten licked the tip. you watched the way his abs tightened, hand cradling his balls, before sinking back down, hollowing your cheeks, loving the feeling of him in your mouth before he's cumming down your throat. you take him to the hilt once more, swallowing around him as he cums. "fuck, fuck i love it when you do that," he chants, keeping you pressed against his skin as he rides out his high.

he sighs, releasing his grip, and you sit back on your heels, "was that okay?" you asked, voice hoarse from the abuse your throat just took. he scoffed at you, "more than okay," he assured, helping you off your knees. "now let's take care of you, darling," he said, pushing your sweat pants down so you could kick them off. "gorgeous," he murmured, taking in the view of your body, "fuck. i am lucky," he says, mainly to himself, before reaching out to touch you. you gasped at the feeling of his hands on you, something you may never get used to.

he patted the counter, signaling for you to hop up there, gripping your waist as you do so, helping you the rest of the way up, before laying you down, and spreading your legs. he leans forward, taking no time to get his mouth on you, sucking a hickey onto your thigh, moving to your hip, leaving light teeth marks as he nips at your skin in such as way that makes your heart stutter. "danny, please," you manage to whimper out, he looks up at you with dark eyes, "please what, darling? use your words, i know you can," he growled. you bit your lip to hold back a moan. "don't hold back love, i want to hear all your noises. so sweet, could make a playlist out of 'em," he teased, you could feel his breath puff against your skin. "need your mouth," you pleaded, eyes slipping shut. "good job, baby. i knew you could do it, so good for me always," he praised before finally tipping down and swiping a tongue across your clit. you couldn't help the surprised moan that escaped your lips. you keened high and airy as he moved lower, slipping his tongue into your hole, nose bumping lightly into your clit, giving you just enough sensation to make it a little unbearable. "fuck, fuck, fuck," you chanted, effectively egging him on.

he slipped a few fingers into you, curling up as he pressed them inside, tongue still sliding between your folds, swirling around your clit. "feel good, baby?" he asked, fingers still working inside you. "uh huh," you whimpered, clenching around him, trying to get that amazing friction. "please," you begged, hips wiggling, working towards your high. "please, what?" he asked, almost teasingly, you groaned, "fuck, please make me cum danny, i need it, fuck, fuck!" you grunted, feeling the way his tongue latched onto your clit, fingers thrusting roughly, other hand splayed across your stomach.

"danny, shit, i'm close," you warned, soft moans slipping out in rythym with his fingers thrusting inside of you. he replaced his fingers with his tongue once more, fingers circling around your clit, "cmon baby, cum for me," he whispered, at that was it. your orgasm hit you like a punch to the gut, you let out a loud moan as your orgasm tore through you. "fuck! daddy!" you cried as he kept his mouth on you as you rode out your high. he slowed his movements as you came down, both of your chests heaving from the effort.

you sat up a little to look at him, laughing a little breathlessly. you flicked your eyes over to the lunch that had been abandoned on the table, before he grabbed your chin, turning your head back to him. "ah ah, i'm not done with you yet," he said, pulling your hips closer to the edge of the counter. he shifted just a little before slipping his length into you. "fuck," you gasped out, not expecting it to be that quick. you sat up a little more, pressing yourself to his chest, legs hooking around his back, pulling him deeper.

you reveled in the way you stretched over his length, moans falling freely from your lips as his mouth returned to your neck.

"not gonna last long this time baby," he grunted out, whimpering each time he thrusted into you, "me either," you said, stomach already tightening once more as you came close to your second high. he hurried his thrusts, slamming into you roughly in just the right way. you tightened your legs around him as he quickened his rhythm, "shit baby, gonna cum," he whispered moving to pull out, but your legs kept him from moving "want it in me, please," you gasped, one of your hands moving to circle around your clit. "shit," he gasped out, thrusting sharply a few time before spilling into you. the feeling of his cum filling you up was the final thing you needed to reach your second orgasm of the night, crying out as you came on his length, legs finally dropping from around him, feeling the wetness from both of you dripping down your thighs.

you rested your head against his chest, listening to his heart beat as you both came down from your orgasms. you felt a little empty as he slipped out of you, laughing a little at the way his eyes widened at the sight of his cum dripping out of you. "shit, we gotta do that again," he said breathlessly, before breaking out into laughter. you couldn't help but join him, "i guess i should make you lunch more often," you giggled, leaning forward to press another kiss to his lips.

"that was fun," you sighed as you hopped down from your position on the counter, you looked around at the mess before you, both from cooking lunch, and the meal danny just had. "i've gotta clean this up now," you breathed, looking back towards danny, a gentle smile on your face.

he shook his head, "nah, baby. i'm gonna run you a bath, and while you're soaking and relaxing, i'm going to clean the kitchen. you work just as hard as me," he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "i'm so lucky," you sighed, repeating his words from earlier, giggling as he nodded in agreement. he pulled you towards the bathroom, pulling you in front of him so he could smack your bare ass once more. you shook your head at him, watching as he bounced around the bathroom, filling the bathtub for your soak.

as you stepped in to the warm water, he pressed a sweet kiss to your lips, "when you're done we'll eat the beautiful lunch you made, okay? see you down stairs," he smiled warmly, before leaving you to your bath.

it couldn't get much better than this.

#danny wagner #danny wagner smut #greta van fleet #greta van fleet smut #danny gvf #daniel wagner #daniel wagner smut #gvf #gvf smut #gvf 18+

124 notes · View notes

slutforsilverfoxes · 8 months

Text

Eight Seconds

[Not quite an author’s note, but more so a confession: I went line dancing the other night… I wish it went like this 😮‍💨 This do be self-indulgent PWP below the cut :) ]

__________

“I feel like an absolute schmuck. I look like an absolute schmuck. Cowboy hats aren’t meant to be worn this far west, it’s just not a good look,” Danny laments aloud, then catches his girlfriend’s eyes narrowed at his comment and quickly amends, “Except you, my dear, look absolutely adorable in yours.”

“That’s because you’ve got Jersey written all over your ugly mug,” his best friend ever so kindly informs him before taking a pull from his second beer of the night. “Gimme that.”

Steve takes the felt hat off of the blonde’s head and dons it himself instead, adjusting the brim low enough to hide the way his gaze is fixed on one young woman twirling around the dancefloor.

You throw your head back with a laugh as your current partner in the circle dance spins you to the next, and you take your new partner’s hand without missing a beat. Steve is absolutely mesmerized by the way you move so effortlessly, gliding between the complicated steps without a care in the world, your ponytail swinging in the same rhythm as your tempting hips.

“Hey,” Melissa yells to be heard over the pounding bass of the country song, nudging Steve hard enough to break him out of his trance. He turns to her and she lifts the brim of the hat before challenging, “Why don’t you get in there instead of ogling her all night, Commander?”

He’s grateful the flashing lights turn red at that moment to accompany the song change and graciously hide the heat creeping across his cheeks. “Am I being that obvious?”

“I’m surprised someone hasn’t put out a restraining order yet,” Danny’s quick to jibe. “Although I guess you’re meeting the requisite fifty feet.”

“You’re a riot,” the brunette grumbles under his breath before downing the rest of his beer. He twists around to place the empty bottle on the table, then turns back to find his view of the dancefloor blocked by a pair of jean shorts and a crop top sporting the skeletal head of a bull, if he’s not mistaken.

“Forgive me if I’m wrong,” your sweet voice settles over him like the Hawaii sunshine after a cool morning swim, “but y’all came out on a line dancing night and have yet to get to dancing.” A finger tips the brim of his hat even further up, and Steve comes face to face with the vision he’s been silently pining after all evening. He opens his mouth to answer, but finds himself speechless for quite possibly the first time in his adult life.

Thankfully, you fill the silence by chatting with Melissa, letting Steve bask in the touch of warm southern drawl woven around your words, and a different kind of heat floods his face this time thinking about what that sweet accent would sound like calling out his name tonight. He zones out while you prattle on, indulging in his decidedly not-safe-for-work fantasy and appreciating the way the cuff of your shorts sits snugly on your thick thighs just below the curve of your ass. Of all the things he’s been jealous of touching you tonight, denim takes the crown for being the most absurd.

“Commander Cupid,” Danny barks, roughly swatting at Steve’s shoulder to get his attention. “She’s talking to you, you putz.”

He clears his throat before turning his focus to you with an apologetic smile. “Got lost in my thoughts there,” he says by way of an explanation, and the twinkle of mirth in your eyes tells him you have a pretty good idea of just what those thoughts entailed.

“I asked if you wanted to come dance or just sit here watching me all night,” you repeat, one eyebrow cocked playfully.

“Oh, I, uh-” He knows he’s caught, and he lets out a soft laugh while shaking his head. “Totally busted, huh?”

“Tell you what,” you declare confidently, letting your hair fall loose from its elastic confine before palming the felt hat and settling it snugly on your head with a smirk. “I’ll make the decision for you.”

You start your journey back to the dance floor, clapping along to the kick drum announcing the beginning of that one Luke Bryan song that everybody always seems to know. You throw a wink over your shoulder and Steve stands to join you, pausing mid-step when Melissa hollers his name. He turns back to find an elated grin on her face, and she calls out, “Do you know the rule?”

Steve raises one eyebrow and shakes his head, curious.

“If you wear the hat…”

__________

“...you ride the cowboy,” you exclaim breathlessly in the back of Steve’s Silverado, your thighs burning from exertion. “Never heard that one before?”

“Nu uh,” the brunette answers rather unintelligently, the second syllable morphing into a groan when you roll your hips against his, somehow slotting his length even deeper in your heat. His hands find your love handles of their own volition, kneading the soft, warm skin there while you mouth hungrily at the sharp planes of his stubbled jaw.

He plants his feet on the floor of his truck before using his bruising grip as leverage to buck up into you, your hips kissing with every thrust as his lips find yours once more. You moan into his awaiting mouth, every coherent thought in your head disappearing, replaced by a mantra of your devilish lover’s name.

“That’s it, baby,” Steve rumbles out his praise. “Take everything I give you like a good girl.”

“Fuck yes,” you cry out, your head falling back and giving him the opportunity to run his nose down your exposed throat, a light scraping of teeth following in its wake. “Bite me,” you plead, and he’s quick to obey, sinking his teeth into the dip where your neck and shoulder meet.

Your walls tighten around his cock at the pleasurable tinge of pain, forcing Steve to let out an involuntary whimper against your skin. You pull back with a gasp, cupping his cheeks between your two smaller hands and feeling his face grow hot beneath your fingertips. “Oh my god,” you manage to get out between incessant pants every time your hips meet. “Do that again.”

“You like th-” The incredulous question dies on his lips, cut off by another soft whimper when you intentionally flex your muscles around him.

“That’s the hottest thing I’ve ever heard come out of a man’s mouth,” you declare, excited by the new discovery. “Don’t you hold back on me now.”

He doesn’t.

Spurred on by your praise and just how fucking hot it is for someone else to order him around for once, Steve allows himself to be vocal, all manner of delicious sounds escaping his kiss-bitten lips while you ride him for everything he’s worth.

“That’s it, baby,” you echo his words from earlier with a positively dangerous grin. “Take everything I give you like a good boy.”

“Fuck,” he breathes out, his cock twitching in response to your overt display of dominance. This is new for him, too, and he decides at that moment that he’s going to have to explore this side of himself more often.

“What is it, Steve?” you ask, your taunt coated by your honey-sweetened accent. “You need to cum? Need to fill this little pussy up?” An unintelligible noise works its way up from low in his throat, and he stares up at you, dumbstruck. “Is that a ‘yes’?”

Steve nods desperately, not trusting his voice to form a response in a coherent manner.

“Oh, sweet boy,” you coo, carding your fingers through his hair, slowing down the torturous twisting of your hips, your other hand teasing your clit. He holds your thighs in a vice grip, his own quaking beneath your body in an attempt to stave off his impending orgasm. Then you tuck one finger under his chin and lift his gaze to yours, and the single syllable you utter shatters the last of his resolve. “Beg.”

Hot ropes of cum paint your walls as Steve lets out a debauched groan, his head falling back against the seat of the truck while you apply steady pressure to your clit, letting yourself crest over the edge moments after him.

You give Steve some time to recover, pressing gentle kisses to his sweaty skin and running your nails along his scalp until the heaving of his chest gives way to steadier breathing. “You okay, baby?”

“That-” He stops, shaking his head and opting to capture your lips in a tender kiss instead of voicing his feelings.

“I figured after the week you had, fighting with the FBI over jurisdiction on your case, you might like to give up control,” you offer by way of explanation, sinking further into his lap to rest your head in the crook of his neck.

“Yeah, you could say that,” your boyfriend laughs, in awe of your uncanny ability to read him so easily. His fingers trail up and down your spine and you settle into his warmth with a content sigh before cheekily adding, “Didn’t think you’d like it that much, though.”

A laugh rumbles out of him again and he admits, “I knew you were a switch, but I didn’t think I was, too.”

“Surprise,” you respond, and he feels your lips turn upward in a smile against his skin. “And here you and Danny were being resistant to line dancing. I told y’all it’s fun, didn’t I?”

He hums in agreement, then adds with a self-satisfied lilt to his voice, “Kind of you to save a horse tonight, sweetheart.”

You snort in response, clambering out of his lap to fix your clothes for the ride home. Finding the discarded cowboy hat in the truck’s passenger seat, you return it to its rightful spot on your boyfriend’s head. “I’ll turn you into a country boy, yet, Steve.”

__________

[A/N (for realsies): Don’t ask where this came from, tbh I blame WhimperTok for r u i n i n g me. And I just know this big, tough man is secretly a lil slut who wants to be Commander outside the bedroom but Commanded™️ in the bedroom, u feel me? I may have to explore this more 👀]

#steve mcgarrett #steve mcgarrett fanfiction #steve mcgarrett smut #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 #hawaii five o imagine #hawaii 5 0 #mostly pwp #smut

258 notes · View notes

harrysfolklore · 1 year

Note

frances (beautyspock) as face claim for harryween blurb!!! shes just chefs kiss on costumes and makeup

HAPPY HARRYWEEN ! i really hope you like this blurb, i really liked how it turned out <3

ask me anything | masterlist | likes and reblogs are appreciated ! | send me a tip <3

liked by harrystyles, haileybieber and 246,985 others

yourinstagram but is los angeles ready for us?

view all 32,962 comments

harryfan1 LETS GOOOO

paulithepsm They better be

harryfan2 she’s the most iconic person on harry’s team and the fact that she’s also his gf ?? more iconic

harrystyles Why don’t you do that makeup on me?

↳ yourinstagram well if that’s what you want…

↳ harryfan3 YES PLEASE

liked by yourinstagram, jefezoff and 154,848 others

pillowpersonpp Los Angeles night one 🤘🏻 makeup by @yourinstagram ❤️

view all 10,023 comments

harryfan1 legends

yourinstagram i love youuuu

yourinstagram pretty girls

↳ harrystyles Am i a pretty girl too? x

↳ yourinstagram prettiest of them all

↳ harryfan2 I LOVE THEM SO MUCH

liked by yourinstagram, lizzobeeating and 2,069,947 others

harrystyles Love On Tour. Los Angeles I. October, 2022.

view all 76,826 comments

harryfan1 MY BABYYYY

lizzobeeating ❤️

harryfan2 i can’t wait for harryween

yourinstagram who’s that

yourinstagram is he single

↳ harrystyles He’s taken by a gorgeous woman x

↳ yourinstagram lucky gal 😩

↳ harryfan3 they’re the best couple ever i swear

liked by harrystyles, sza and 376,826 others

yourinstagram dorothy and the wicked witch for last year’s harryween. who’s ready to go again this year?

view all 35,937 comments

harryfan1 this was so iconic they blew my mind

jefezoff I want to be Dorothy this time

↳ yourinstagram okay boss

↳ harrystyles I’m your boss

↳ yourinstagram nope, you’re just my side chick

↳ harryfan2 name a more iconic couple i’ll wait

annetwist Have fun, kids ❤️

liked by yourinstagram, jefezoff and 969,053 others

hshq Harryween 2022. Los Angeles. October 31st. Can’t wait to see your fancy dress.

view all 15,972 comments

harryfan1 SO FUCKING EXCITED

harryfan2 bestie i know you love us pleaseeee give us a hint of the costumes

↳ yourinstagram 🎸🏍

↳ harryfan3 OH MY GODDD

YN’S INSTAGRAM STORIES

liked by harryfan1, harryfan2 and 2,937 others

harryupdates “We need to give a big shoutout to my talented makeup and hair artist, who also happens to be my gorgeous girlfriend, she helped me with this wig, i wouldn’t be looking as fabulous as i do right now if it wasn’t for her, so thank you darling” -Harry thanking YN tonight !

view all 1,075 comments

harryfan1 GOD BLESS YN

harryfan2 we really need to thank yn for her service

harryfan3 THIS COSTUME IS SO SLAY

harryfan4 YN IS DRESSED UP AS SANDY !!!!

liked by harrystyles, bellahadid and 402,926 others

yourinstagram The Sandy to his Danny x

view all 37,937 comments

harryfan1 A COMPLETE SLAY

annetwist The best out there 🙌🏻

harryfan2 they always come through with the matching costumes

harrystyles You’re the one that I want x

↳ yourinstagram you’re hopelessly devoted to me wbk

↳ harryfan3 I LOVE THEM SO MUCH

liked by yourinstagram, lizzobeeating and 2,927,873 others

harrystyles HARRYWEEN. Los Angeles. October, 2022.

view all 87,726 comments

harryfan1 ICONIC

jefezoff 🙌🏻🙌🏻

harryfan2 yn really did a great job with the makeup and wigs

yourinstagram my besties 🥺🥺❤️

↳ harrystyles Friendzoned. Ouch.

↳ harryfan3 HARRY STOP IT

taglist: @cucciolafaerie @eleanordaisy @sunflowersndpeaches @golden-hoax x @alienorknight @daydreamingofmatilda @sunflowervolume66 @vanteguccir @ivyproblems @ayeshathestyles @stylesmygucci @gimsaysay @rosaliedepp @dontworrysunflower r @milfrrynation @manifestrry @iceebabies @harrystylesrecs s @pleasingrryyy @harianaswhore @leadmetogarden n @abeanontoast @grapejuice-rry @vrittivsanghavi @msolbesg @tati813 @sad1esgf @ivegotparticulartaste @eviesaurusrex @olivialovesh @itsgabbysblog @theekyliepage @gumballavocadoharry @watermelonsugacry @be-with-me-so-happily @a-strange-familiar @reveriehs @musicforcinemas @rafeyyyyy @tinydeskwriter @noooovaaaaa @tenaciousperfectionunknown n @mxltifxnd0m @rach2602 @balletdancerry @b-reads-things @juiceboxrry

#harry styles fake instagram #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles blurb #harry styles one shot #harry styles au #harry styles instagram concept #harry styles fake social media #harrysfolklore #harrryween #harry styles headcanon #harry styles fic #harry styles story #harry styles writing #1k #hsfolklore archive

1K notes · View notes

daydreamtofiction · 10 months

Text

Thou Shalt Not Covet // 7: Divinity

Contents | Part 6 | First Person Version [AO3]

Summary: (Priest!Benedict x Female Reader) The aftermath of your confession leads to some unexpected revelations.

Word Count: <6.8K

Warnings: Strong language, irreverence, dark humour, adult & sexual themes, adultery, descriptions of mild injury. Readers must be 18+

You found yourself back at the pub, wedged between your father and his wife Nicola, the scent of ale on his breath and her flowery perfume mingling in the air in front of your face. You always felt so small in their presence, so weedy and meek in comparison to their large, proud frames.

He said something and she laughed, nudging you gently in the arm as though his words had been meant for you. But you hadn't been listening, resorting to breathing out an absentminded chuckle that never quite made a sound.

You'd gone into the toilets as soon as you returned from the church, sitting alone in the cubicle furthest from the door with your head in your hands. You'd listened as two of your cousins came in, chatting and laughing as they peed and washed their hands. It was the first time you'd felt truly sinful; looking down at the damp patch in your underwear, the red fingertip marks on your thighs as the girls you used to play house with as children stood touching up their makeup on the other side of the door.

They would always make you the postman, have you knock on the door to their playhouse with pretend letters and parcels. You would wander around your aunt and uncle's house looking for scrap paper and cardboard boxes to bring to them, stick old stamps on the front to make them look real. You never understood why the adults told them off for leaving you out; you never felt left out, always perfectly happy on the other side of the door.

You'd waited until they left to finally emerge from your cubicle, catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, the nude sheen of lipstick smudged around your mouth. You scrubbed at it with a paper towel until your skin turned raw, as though if you wiped hard enough, you could erase the kiss altogether.

But you weren't sure you wanted to erase it. You didn't even know if you could; the moment his hands grabbed your face replaying on a loop in your head as your father continued to talk beside you.

"Where's the boyfriend?" he asked after downing the dregs of his pint.

He never called him Alfie, always 'the boyfriend'.

"He went home," you replied apathetically.

"Were you arguing with him earlier or am I making that up?"

"Hm? Oh, over there? No, I was er, I had a bit of a... thing with Gina."

"Ah."

He didn't pry. Neither did Nicola. You appreciated it, but the quiet lull that followed made you squirm, adjusting the straps of your dress and twiddling your necklace as Superman by Black Lace thumped through the speakers. They started doing the actions to the song, dancing in their seats either side of you and throwing their thumbs over their shoulders like they were hitchhiking.

"And that's my cue to leave," you said, standing up and shimmying past your father's legs to escape.

"What? Not embarrassed of your old man are you?" He laughed.

You turned and smiled down at him. "Aren't daughters supposed to be?"

He never danced when you were little, wouldn't have been caught dead bopping in his seat, pretending to comb his hair like Danny from Grease. But he wasn't with Nicola back then, and maybe that was why. Maybe all it really took was the right person to make a man behave outside of himself.

You wandered over to a table on the other side of the room; your mother, aunt, grandmother and Mara sitting around it in silence.

"Thought this was a christening, not a funeral," you said as you pulled up a chair.

Mara glared up at you, cheek resting on her fist as she stirred her drink with the tip of her finger, clearly exasperated by whatever they'd been talking about before you arrived.

"Where've you been?" your mother asked.

"I was just sitting with Dad and-"

"No, before that. I was looking for you, I wanted to get a nice picture under the banner."

"Oh, I went outside."

"What for?"

"Nothing in particular."

You felt yourself unconsciously pulling down the skirt of your dress, eyes shifting across to your sister, just long enough for her interest to pique.

"So, a godmother, ey?" said your aunt. "That'll be good practice for when you have your own."

You resisted the urge to groan. It seemed like all the women in your family ever wanted to talk about was marriage, babies, settling down, like there was a clock inside your uterus that only they could hear ticking.

"Oh that's- That's a... long way off," you replied with a tight smile.

"Not too long, I hope," said your mother. "I'm telling you, Ellis, you don't want to end up like Mara, in your late thirties and only just starting a family-"

"Excuse me?" Mara interrupted.

"I'm not criticising, love, I'm just saying as someone who's experienced being both a younger mum and an older mum, I much preferred raising you and your brother than I did Ellis."

"Wow, burning bridges with all your kids today, are you?" you said plainly. "Why don't we go three for three; head down to Cain's plot and tell him he was a shit driver."

"Oh Ellis, for Christ's sake, must you say things like that!?"

"Fucking hell," Mara grumbled, pinching the bridge of her nose between finger and thumb.

"It was just a joke." You shrugged.

"A distasteful one," said your mother.

You could have sworn you spotted a slight giggle behind Mara's hand. She never had any sense of humour when it came to Cain, could barely even listen to people talk about him without growing agitated. But in this moment, her disdain for your mother seemed to outweigh her grief, allowing the corners of her mouth to curl at the sound of offended scoffs around the table.

"He'd have laughed at that," you said.

Your mother, aunt and grandmother shook their heads in accidental unison. You rolled your shoulders, trying to release the tension in your neck.

"What's got into you today?" your mother asked.

A priest, almost.

"Nothing. Sorry, I'm just... Not in the right frame of mind to be talking about babies and..." you trailed off, blowing out a puff of air through puckered lips before rising to your feet. "Sorry."

You walked away, weaving through a group of small children playing musical statues in the middle of the room.

There was a tap on the back of your arm, a gentle tug at your waist. You turned to find Mara behind you, slightly out of breath and sighing as she began to speak.

"Hey, listen, don't let her get under your skin. You know what she's like, she's just abrasive without even meaning to be-"

"No it's- It's fine, it's not that," you replied.

"Then what is it?"

"Nothing."

"Has Alfie done something?"

"No. Well I mean, he left which was a bit annoying, but no, he's... I'm..."

"Is it the priest?"

"What?"

"He came to say goodbye, then ten minutes later I watched you leave through the same door. Now you're back, you're annoyed about something, and your lipstick's gone..."

"Mara."

She shrugged, raising her hands in surrender. "Fine, I'm mistaken."

"You are."

"Fine."

"Look, I'm going to go. It's not because of that, I just... You know parties aren't really my thing."

"I know." She glanced over her shoulder, then back to you. "Nathan's not been drinking. I'll get him to drive you home."

"He doesn't have to-"

"Wait there."

Nathan smelled good. Clean and expensive, the kind of smell you'd notice on your clothes hours after he hugged you and find yourself pressing your nose to the material. He dressed well, nice suits and neat hair, thick platinum wedding ring glinting as he gripped the steering wheel. You'd always liked him, liked how easy he found people; able to know what they needed from him without ever having to ask.

You were staring out the passenger window, distracted by thoughts of Father Benedict, running the tip of your index finger over your lips and wondering if he might be somewhere doing the same.

"She worries about you, you know," said Nathan. "Mara, I mean."

You turned to look at him. "I've told her I'm fine."

"No, I don't just mean lately. I mean all the time."

"She barely speaks to me. We've seen more of each other in the last few weeks than we have in years."

"Yeah and you know what? She's happier."

"You say that like I'm the reason we don't-"

"No, I know you're not the reason." He turned a corner, glancing in his rearview mirror before continuing. "She just... I don't think she knows how to love you up close. So instead she just worries from afar."

"But there's nothing to worry about. I'm a grown woman. It's not like I'm out doing drugs or jumping out of planes or-"

"I mean she worries about you. Worries if you're happy, if you're doing okay, if you need to talk but don't feel like you can reach out because you think she's going to be critical or judgemental or snappy."

You didn't answer, returning your attention to the window.

"You can talk to her, Ellis."

A laugh escaped you in a breath. "She just wants the gossip on the priest," you said jokingly.

He laughed too. "She thinks something's going on between you."

"I don't know why."

"She knows you better than you think."

You watched as a traffic light turned green moments before you got to it, allowing him to keep driving without having to slow down.

"Do you believe in signs?" you asked.

"Like fate? The universe?"

"Like... a higher being."

"I think if it helps people to think they're being sent signs from above, then who am I to stop them?"

"But would you follow the signs? Do as they seem to tell you?"

"It depends."

"On what?"

"If they aligned with what I already wanted to do."

You laughed softly.

It was still light outside when you arrived home, but the air was cooler, the setting sun turning the clouds a watercolour of pinks and golds. You climbed out of the car, bending forward to wave through the tinted window before turning around and heading down the path towards your front door. You heard the smooth whoosh of the engine behind you, tyres crunching over loose stones and gravel as he drove away.

"Oh, fuck," you whispered to yourself, suddenly realising you didn't have your bag. Your phone, keys and purse still sitting on the floor of the church where you'd thrown it in frustration.

You knocked and waited a while, but when no one came, you made your way around the back instead. You slipped through a broken slat in the wooden fence, your dress catching on an exposed nail, a soft tearing sound making you stop and let out a groan. You freed yourself carefully and continued into the back garden, sighing with relief when you saw the patio door ajar, Gina's ashtray balanced on the windowsill beside it.

Sean and Sam were stood in the kitchen, chatting and laughing as they rummaged through the cupboards, the sound of clattering glass almost drowning out their voices. Sean turned around with a litre of vodka in one hand, a bottle of grenadine in the other. He startled when he saw you, his body stiffening, gasping in fright.

"See what I mean," he said breathlessly. "Always creeping up on me."

"I did knock," you replied.

"Sorry, we mustn't have heard," said Sam.

"It's okay." You wandered across the kitchen towards the hall, fiddling with the small rip on your dress.

"Do you want a drink?" Sam called out to you. "Sean closed on a house so we're making shit cocktails to celebrate."

You smiled. "No, that's okay. Congratulations though." You paused as you reached the door. "Is Alfie home?"

Sean shrugged. "Not sure, we've only just got back."

You made your way slowly up the stairs, running your hand over the banister; the dark, scuffed wood reminding you of the confessional booth, bringing back the smells, the heat, the heart-pounding tension. It felt weird knowing your relationship was over before actually saying the words out loud; like this space between the kitchen and the bedroom was some strange realm where you were together and apart at the same time - schrödigner's staircase.

You arrived at his bedroom door, taking a deep breath before knocking gently. But when he didn't answer, you let yourself in, finding the room empty, a sinking feeling in your gut at the realisation that he must be waiting for you in yours. It made you feel even worse, somehow, the thought of him sitting on your bed twiddling his thumbs while you were out kissing another man.

You closed the door softly and walked towards your room, stopping as your hand reached for the doorknob when a shuffling sound stole your attention.

It was coming from the other end of the landing, making you glance over your shoulder to listen. But after a moment, you shook away the curiosity and went inside, brow furrowing when you found yourself alone; the room quiet, empty, everything just as you'd left it.

You turned around and made your way back, passing Alfie's room, then Sean's, then Sam's, until eventually you came to Gina's. It was the biggest room in the house; best view, closest to the bathroom. The door stood near the top of the stairs, looking down the length of the landing like a boss' chair at the head of a long table.

You pressed your ear to it, another shuffling sound coming from the other side. Then you opened it.

You weren't sure why you didn't walk back out, why you didn't gasp or shriek or cover your eyes. Instead you stood there, head tilted slightly to one side with a strange calmness as you took in the sight of her on her hands and knees at the bottom of the bed, breasts swaying pendulously to the rhythm of your boyfriend's listless thrusts.

They stopped the moment they saw you; Gina scarpering with a panicked yelp to hide beneath the duvet, Alfie backing himself awkwardly into the corner of the room, dick shrivelling like a punctured balloon until it was practically microscopic.

"Oh my god, Ellis," said Gina, panting to catch her breath. "I'm so-"

"You- You weren't supposed to be back-" Alfie began to stammer, cupping himself to protect what little dignity he had left. "Look it's not- It's not... Fuck!"

They continued to talk over each other, a mess of half-finished excuses and apologies that you didn't care to listen to. You remained quiet, eyes trailing slowly over both of them; his sweaty forehead, the mascara smudged beneath her eyes.

"Ellis..." she sniffled. "Ellis, please say something."

You glanced down at their clothes in a heap on the floor, a discarded foil wrapper beside them. You crouched down and picked it up - Mutual Climax Delay Textured Condoms - and out of nowhere, a giggle began to take root at the base of your throat.

They stared at you in shock as the sound bloomed into a much heartier laugh, your shoulders shaking, hand covering your mouth.

"Wh-" Alfie muttered in confusion, still frozen in the corner of the room.

Gina hugged the duvet tighter to her chest, brows coming together over watery eyes. "Why are you laughing?"

You calmed yourself with a breath, letting your head fall back to gaze up at the ceiling. "Now this is a sign," you said.

"A sign?" she replied.

"A sign for what? Ellis, please just- Can we all talk about-"

You let go of the wrapper, watching it flutter to the ground, before turning and walking out of the room without another word.

You weren't sure how long you'd been walking. But it was dark now, so it must have been a while. You'd taken off your shoes, holding them by the straps as you wandered barefoot through the quiet streets.

When it began to rain, you'd stopped for a moment, tipping your face up to the sky and closing your eyes with a smile, welcoming the cool shower across your warm skin. But after a while, you found yourself wishing it would stop; shivering, teeth chattering, the fabric of your dress clinging uncomfortably to your body.

You didn't have a phone, nor your purse, though it wasn't like you had money in there anyway. A bus drove past and you considered stopping it, wondered if the driver would take pity on you, let you ride for free. But by the time the thought came to you, it had already disappeared around a corner.

There was a sharp sting in the ball of your foot, making you stumble slightly, hissing in pain. You sat down on a nearby wall to inspect it, prising a small shard of thick, dark green glass from your skin and watching as blood began to ooze from the fresh cut.

"Wonderful," you muttered, throwing the glass into a bush and standing up with a sigh.

If there really was a god, you thought, how could they justify this? Alfie and Gina, safe and warm together in the house you'd caught them fucking in. Yet here you were, barefoot, soaking wet, limping down the same street where a creepy stranger had stalked you just a few months ago.

Had your sins really been worse than theirs?

As you grew closer to your destination, you began to question why you hadn't just walked to your mother's, or Mara's, even Dawn the receptionist from work lived nearer than this. You thought about turning around; maybe by the time you got home you'd be dry, calm, you could sneak into your room and lock the door, sleep until the sun rose and set again.

But you kept going, hobbling across the road and making your way down the dark, winding path you'd grown far too familiar with. You swore under your breath as the soles of your feet pressed into the rough stone, making you wince as you hurried over it, like running across hot coals.

You knocked gently on the front door of the rectory, leaning back to regard the house as you waited; windows draped in darkness, so quiet and still, it was as if no one resided there at all. You realised this was the first time you'd seen it so close; the weathered stone and ivy climbing the walls, the quaint front door and doormat he'd thrown down without taking off the price tag.

You smiled to yourself and crouched down, picking at the edge of the sticker with your nail until it began to peel away. Then you heard footsteps. But they weren't coming from inside the house. You glanced over your shoulder, eyes following the sound of crunching gravel behind you.

Father Benedict was walking slowly, apprehensively, eyes narrowed in confusion through strands of curly, wet hair sticking to his brow. The rain was falling heavily, turning his shirt and trousers a glossy black as they clung to his body, but he didn't seem fazed, too consumed by the sight of a stranger hunched over in his porch.

You rose to your feet and he stopped approaching, no less concerned when he realised it was you standing there.

"Ellis?" he whispered in bewilderment.

"Oh, hi."

"What are you doing here?"

"I er..."

Why were you there? You'd relied so much on the idea that you'd know once you arrived; that the words would just come naturally, that everything would fall into place without you having to think about it.

"I left my bag in the church," you said.

His brow furrowed and he scratched the back of his head. "Well I've- sorry I've literally just got back from locking the place up, I didn't..."

"It's okay, never mind." You emerged from beneath the shelter of the porch, taking off back towards the path.

"Wait, did you... Did you walk here?" he called out.

You glanced back at him, noticing his eyes falling to the shoes in your hand, your sopping dress, then up at the rain falling from the pitch black sky.

"Mhm," you replied nonchalantly, as though it was the most normal thing in the world.

"Y-you- Hold on, you walked all the way here? In this weather? Just to get your bag?"

"Well it's got my phone and... stuff."

He let out a huff through his nose, resting his weight on one leg. "Why are you really here?"

"For my bag."

"Ellis."

"What?"

"Please don't lie to me."

"I'm not."

"Right. So now you're just going to walk home?"

You shrugged. "Yeah."

He glared at you for a moment before dropping his head with a sigh. "Come inside."

"No, it's fine, I'll just come back when the church is open tomorrow."

"In. Now."

His voice made your stomach flutter; the firmness of it, how it wasn't a request, but a demand. You followed him back towards the front door as he unlocked it, moving aside to let you in first.

You stepped into the house, water dripping from the hem of your dress onto the doormat beneath you, the soft material like heaven on your sore feet. He closed the door, switched on a lamp and took a step back to take in the sight of you, hands resting on his slender hips.

He was just as drenched as you were, but it still felt like he was judging you, like he couldn't believe you'd be stupid enough to get caught in such a heavy downpour.

You returned his gaze, allowing your eyes to scan him up and down quickly, just once.

"Have you only just got back?" you asked.

"From the church?" he replied. "Yeah, why?"

"You've been there all this time?"

He pressed his lips together and relaxed his posture, dropping his hands from his hips as he began to walk across the small living room.

"Turns out there was quite a... lengthy conversation to be had," he said.

You glanced up towards the sky, shifting awkwardly on your feet. "And what's he been saying?"

"Mm, nothing much." He disappeared through a door, returning moments later with two towels, throwing one over to you. "He's not the most talkative of entities; the chats are often quite one-sided."

"What's your side been saying?"

"Mostly 'sorry'. And 'please don't smite me'," he replied dryly.

You dropped your head and laughed softly.

He smiled reluctantly, as though he couldn't help it. Your eyes locked for a moment, the air turning heavy and close. You shivered, though you weren't sure if it was because of him, or the raindrops trickling down your back as they dripped from your hair.

You wrapped the towel around your shoulders like a cloak, watching as he ruffled his through his hair.

"I'll get you some clothes," he said. "You can't stay in that."

"I'm alright."

"Don't be silly, look at-" he stopped, eyes falling to your feet. "You're bleeding."

"Hm?" You looked down, noticing the small red smudge you'd left on the mat. "Oh, that's nothing. I just- I stepped on a piece of glass and-"

"Sit down."

"Really, I'm-"

"Sit," he said, that same stern tone making your insides go funny as he gestured to the couch.

You lay your towel down and sat on it, listening as he rummaged around in the other room. You assumed it was the kitchen; the sound of cupboards opening and closing, ceramic clinking together.

He came back with a small plastic tub, walking around to you and kneeling at your feet. You bit the inside of your cheek at the sight of him knelt on the floor in front of you; such an innocent act, yet the thoughts it ignited were anything but pure.

You sat quietly as you watched him open the tub, his long fingers sifting around until he finally found what he was looking for. He glanced up at you before taking your ankle in his hand, raising it slightly to look at the cut on the bottom of your foot.

There was a grumble deep in the back of his throat. He reached down and picked up a small packet, tearing it open with his teeth and spitting out the paper.

Oh, you know exactly what you're doing, you thought.��

He slid out an alcohol wipe and looked up at you. "This is going to sting like a bitch."

"Go for it," you replied quietly.

You sucked the air through your teeth with a hiss, closing your eyes as he began to clean the cut.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Mm. I'm one of those weird people who sort of likes the pain."

He paused. "Sucker for punishment, ey?"

"Maybe."

"Is that why you seem to have such a problem staying away from me?"

You shrugged. "That's what happens when you make yourself a sanctuary for people, Father. They tend to seek you out when they need it."

"Why are you in need of sanctuary?"

"Well." You pretended to ponder for a moment, tapping your lips with your index finger. "I almost fucked a priest today... on an altar."

"It was a credence table," he muttered.

You stuck your tongue into your cheek and laughed quietly. "Is it not understandable that I might want to talk to you about that?"

He stopped what he was doing, still holding your ankle as he looked up at you. "Ellis, you walked here. In the dark, in the rain, no coat, no phone, nothing. Because you wanted to talk about something that could've waited until tomorrow?"

"Well I got a sign telling me to come now."

"Piss off." He rummaged through the tub and pulled out a box of plasters.

"What? I thought you were a big believer in signs?"

He rolled his eyes, peeling open a large, square plaster and sticking it gently over your cut. "What was this sign, then?"

"Oh, nothing, just walked in on my boyfriend fucking my best friend."

He stopped, staring up at you in disbelief. "Are you messing with me?"

"No."

"Jesus Christ."

"It's actually fine," you said with a sigh. "I'd made up my mind on the way home that I was going to end it anyway. Now I get to break up with him and be the victim in the situation. Worked out great."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

"So I take it that's why you were wandering the streets with no shoes on."

"I'm not usually one for dramatics. But I'd already stormed out when I realised I didn't have anything with me and I was too stubborn to go back."

"Not one for dramatics... Hm."

"I'm not."

He finished mending your foot, lowering it gently to the ground and scooping everything back into the tub. It closed with a click and you watched as he took a moment to examine his handiwork, pressing his thumb along the edges of the dressing to make sure it was flush to your skin.

You looked around the room, all cluttered and mismatched, outdated wallpaper and modest appliances. There was a small television in the corner, an old radio just like the one your parents had when you were a child. You could tell he'd done his best to make himself comfortable in the space; blankets draped over the back of the couch, a games console wired up to the TV, framed pictures on the coffee table and mantelpiece.

"Does it get lonely here?" you asked.

"Not really. I spend so much time around other people, it's nice having a place to be alone. Out there I'm Father Benedict, in here I'm just... Ben."

"Ben," you repeated quietly, taking pleasure in how ordinary it sounded, how soft and human it made him.

He glanced up at you with a burning intensity, like he hadn't expected the way hearing his name on your tongue would make him feel; the intimacy of it catching him off guard, making him hesitate, fighting to maintain his composure. He stood up and cleared his throat.

"I think I'm going to... Go and have a cigarette," he said. "Not had one all day, I'm gasping."

"Okay," you replied faintly.

He began to walk away but halted suddenly, turning on his heels. You sat quietly as he approached again, stopping in front of you.

"Look," he said. "Everything that happened earlier in the church, the things I said to you... I'm not going to try and say I didn't mean them because clearly I did. But that doesn't... I- I shouldn't have-" He let out a defeated exhale. "I can't act on it, Ellis."

You stayed silent, gazing up at him through your lashes as he paced slightly before you.

"Stop looking at me like that," he growled.

"If you were strong in your convictions it wouldn't matter how I was looking at you."

"I'm not strong. That's the problem."

"Then why do you expect me to be?"

He closed his eyes for a moment and sighed. You watched as he made his way back into the kitchen, listening to the sound of a drawer sliding open and shut again, his shoes clacking on the tiles.

You stood up, resting your weight on your injured foot, testing how much pressure you could apply before it began to ache.

There was a crucifix hanging on the far wall, a small table laden with trinkets and tools you assumed were important. There was a cushion on the floor in front of it all, you pictured him knelt there, palms clasped in prayer. You limped over to it, running your fingers over an intricately decorated candle, a string of rosary beads in a metal dish, you fanned your thumb across the pages of a leather bound bible, wondering what prayers he'd made here.

He was such a contradiction; so normal and funny and grounded, yet he would kneel before a cross and speak to something he had no proof was even listening. There must be a reason, you thought, some benefit to it all. You knelt on the cushion, clasping your fingers together in front of you and closing your eyes with a cynical exhale.

After a little while, you heard the creak of the door, Father Benedict stepping back into the room.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Praying," you replied, eyes still closed.

He scoffed. "Sure."

"I am."

"What about?"

"I thought you weren't supposed to ask what people are praying for?"

"That's wishes."

"Oh."

You listened to his footsteps as they grew closer, suddenly feeling his presence at your side. You opened your eyes and turned your head, looking up to find him standing over you, looking down with an expression you couldn't quite place.

"What are you praying for?" he asked again, his voice low and quiet.

"I actually don't know if it can be classed as a prayer. Feels more like I'm just... thinking."

"Tell me."

You inhaled deeply through your nose, letting it out in a quiet sigh. "There are things I want. Things I've always wanted but never realised until I met you."

He took a slight step closer, towering over you as you knelt at his feet. He was so serious. It changed his entire face, made him more beautiful than handsome, dark and otherworldly like a fallen angel.

"I want..." you paused, wetting your lips. "I want to have faith in something. I want reason, risk, I want consequences. I want to let go and trust there's someone else pulling the strings, that if I just be a good girl and do as I'm told I can have more in this life than a boring job and strained relationships and a boyfriend who can't even make me come. I want to be vibrant and endearing and sensitive and open. I want to be punished when I do wrong." You paused. "I want to ask for what I want and believe it will be given to me."

He was still looking down at you, features hard and angular, eyes more grey than blue beneath the shadow of his heavy brow.

"What do you want?" he asked.

"Why? Are you going to give it to me?"

He reached out his hand and your body stiffened, a shiver rolling down your back when his fingers brushed a lock of wet hair out of your face.

"I'm going to get you some dry clothes," he said.

You felt a sudden loss in your chest, like a candle being snuffed out, only a whisper of smoke to remind you it was once burning. He walked away, leaving you kneeling on the ground in silence.

You grimaced as you peeled the dress from your body, your skin pricking with goosebumps as it made contact with the cold air. The bathroom was small and draughty, old-fashioned tiles doing little to insulate the space.

You threw the dress aside, the material so heavy with rainwater that it made a splattering sound as it hit the floor. Your bra followed, then your underwear, until you were completely stripped in the middle of the room.

There was something strange about being naked in this place. The constant reminders of a higher being watching over you making you feel exposed, as though you were being ogled by a set of eyes you couldn't even see. It was also hard to forget who was waiting for you downstairs; only a door separating your unclad body from the man you wished would touch it, kiss it, ruin it completely.

If you were more like Gina, you might have walked out there like this, lay yourself bare to him in the hopes that he would yield, surrender to his own desires and take you in his arms. But you weren't Gina, you were Ellis. And Ellis didn't like to gamble. So instead you picked up a towel and dried yourself off before inspecting the clothes Father Benedict had given to you.

You unfolded a soft, heather grey sweatshirt, holding it up by the shoulders to read the university logo embroidered on the front. It must have meant a lot for him to keep it all these years, and now he was letting you wear it, the thought made you smile. There were pyjama bottoms too, a pair of socks and a set of black boxers. It made your cheeks warm, and you immediately rolled your eyes at yourself.

You slipped on the underwear, adjusting the loose material until it sat comfortably around your waist. Then you pulled on the jumper, taking a moment to bask in the warmth, appreciating how dry and clean you felt. You picked up the pyjama bottoms, looking at them for a moment before putting them back on the side; maybe it was okay to take a small leaf from Gina's book. She owed you this much.

You made your way back downstairs to find Father Benedict sitting on the couch with one leg crossed over the other. He was still in his wet clothes, hair brushed back out of his face, staring off into space as though he'd forgotten he needed to change too. Or maybe he just didn't care. You stood on the other side of the room, jumper skimming the tops of your bare thighs as he continued to daydream.

"What are you thinking about?" you asked tentatively.

He snapped out of his haze, eyes flitting over to you and immediately falling to your legs. "Did you not get the trousers?"

"I got them."

The corner of his mouth twitched slightly, he swallowed and looked down. "I was just wondering about something."

"What?"

"I was wondering what was going through your mind when you knelt in front of me at mass."

Your lips were parted but you didn't speak, watching his fingers on the arm of the couch, gripping and releasing in a steady rhythm.

"I just wanted you to look at me," you replied, almost whispering. "You weren't looking at me and I couldn't stand it."

He nodded, pausing in thought. "I really tried that day. To nip it in the bud." He chuckled. "How fucking stupid of me, thinking I could just avert my eyes, quote a few passages from the bible and this would all go away."

"I didn't mean to make you-"

"You have a boyfriend-"

"Had."

"And you would complain about him to me; how neglectful he was, how shit he was in bed. But instead of giving you guidance or counsel like I'm supposed to, I- I just found myself wanting to-" He stopped himself, reining in the fury that was beginning to build in his voice.

"Wanting to...?"

He looked at you. "Do you know what was going through my mind that day at mass? I was angry. Partly because you shouldn't have been up there, you were making a mockery out of the practice just to get a rise out of me and I was furious with you for it." He paused. "But mostly, I was angry because I knew I'd never be able to stop picturing you on your knees."

A sudden wave crashed through you, flooding the depths of your core with a tingling heat. He seemed to notice, eyes darting between your face and your body, how you'd crossed your legs at the ankle, bare thighs squeezing together.

"Why couldn't you have just... Stayed away?" he whispered.

"Ouch," you replied plainly.

There was a long, intense silence, the white noise of rain beating against the window.

"Is that what you want?" you asked. "For me to stay away?"

"It's not what I want, but I think it's what I need," he replied. "I'm a shit priest-"

"No you're not."

"I am. You know why? Because I don't resist, I run." He looked around the living room. "But I can't exactly do that here."

You shrugged gently, pressing your lips together. "I didn't come here to make things difficult for you."

"No, you came because you want direction. You want to believe that if you trust in the divine and go where it seems to lead you, you'll be rewarded for your obedience."

You swallowed, trying to keep your breath steady despite the throbbing between your legs, the flutters in your stomach.

He sighed and uncrossed his legs. "Come here."

You did as you were told, ignoring the slight pain in your foot as you made your way across the room. You stopped in front of him, your mind a cloud of confusion and anticipation as you waited for your next instruction.

"Tell me what you thought was going to happen when you decided to come here tonight," he said.

"I don't know. I was just- I was on autopilot-"

"Thou shalt not bear false witness."

You rolled your eyes and blew out an exasperated breath. "I wanted to see you," you said simply. "I felt so guilty about what happened in the church. Then a couple of hours later I walked in on my boyfriend cheating on me and I thought, fuck it."

"So you're here out of retaliation."

Your brows came together, the offence clear on your face. You leaned in slightly towards him, speaking clearly, sternly and without shame. "I'm here because every time he fucks me, I imagine it's you."

He already knew that to be true. But hearing it from you directly, so certain and unabashed, made him shift in his seat. His face was calm, but you knew where to look for the truth; it was in his knuckles, how they'd turned white as they gripped the arm of the couch, the muscle pulsing in his jaw, the bobbing of his throat as he swallowed.

Your eyes were locked on each other, the familiar heat rising between you. He made a noise somewhere between a groan and a sigh.

"This is going to happen, isn't it," he said defeatedly.

"I think it is."

He reached out slowly, hands making contact with the cold flesh of your legs. His touch was searing, pulling you gently towards him. You moved forward, straddling him with your thighs and sitting on his lap, hands snaking over his shoulders as his fingers gripped your hips.

His clothes were still wet, making you shiver as they dampened the front of your jumper, soaking into the gusset of the boxers. You leaned into him, chest pressing against chest, your fingers finding their way into the back of his hair.

You pulled his head back slightly, allowing you to lean forward and kiss him. You'd never been one to take charge, much preferring to be handled, guided, but in this moment you knew that if you ever wanted to bask in the flood, you had to be the one to break the dam.

He growled softly against your lips. "I'm going to hell," he mumbled.

"I'll probably see you there."

Part 8

*Tags: @evelynrosestuff @thealleydog @lexlexigogh @allie131313 @simpingbestie @ironstrange1991 @witchoftheages @queerbee8 @swds @jyessaminereads @withalittlehoney @hunterofshadows04 @slytherindoctorsat221b @diabaroxa @phoebe221 @hai-kbai @downtownshabby @dara-of-qui-zi @unfilteredmoonchild @classicrebound @bigratbitchsworld @aphroditesdilemma @bloodyxsaint @ployavengersog1 @spectaclebitch @paola-carter

If you would like to be tagged in the next part, please comment below, or feel free to add yourself to the tag list here

171 notes · View notes

heliads · 7 months

Note

Idk if requests are open rn (I can't convert time lol) but I was wondering if I could request something for Now You See Me? Maybe smth with Jack where they're both just a super silly couple, like always goofing around before shows and just having fun, but they're both kinda insecure, like 'what if the other person doesn't take this as serious as they do'. So they...idk talk it through and in general super fluffy. Sorry, i'm really bad at describing things. Feel free to ignore if I sent this in too early.

masterlist

If you ask the Horsemen what they like most about being, well, a Horseman, you would get completely different answers. Some of you love the planning process, being able to organize the perfect heist right down to the very last detail. Others love the car chases afterwards, running as fast as they please without ever getting caught. Still more of you have a fondness for the magic tricks of the shows themselves.

If you were to pick, though, your favorite part about this fantastical life of yours wouldn’t be what happens on the stage, nor immediately before and after it. The magic is lovely, obviously, and you all enjoy the sound of so many people cheering your names, but what you like most of all about this select group of extraordinary people are the members of the group themselves. The backstage murmuring, the whispered inside jokes. That, to you, is worth more than any perfected sleight of hand trick.

That’s the reason for the contented feeling in your stomach as you survey your little crew. The five of you just made it out of another successful deal. This one will have the skeptics talking for months, of that you’re certain; all of you went above and beyond to make this job impossible to deny. It’s a good feeling. It lets all of you lay down your guard for the time being and just laugh with each other while you wait for the coast to clear outside.

Merritt tips his glass appreciatively as another siren caterwauls outside your hideout. “I think that’s the tenth one I’ve heard in ten minutes. Face it, people. We’re famous. Or, I am, at least. They might be too distracted by my good looks to notice you.”

Danny rolls his eyes. “They’d only get distracted by your looks if you hypnotized them.”

“Why don’t I do it to you, then?” Merritt pretends to lunge towards him, laughing when Danny jerks backwards.

“Not funny,” Danny complains.

“Totally funny,” you argue. “Are you scared because you’re worried it already happened? What if you secretly think Merritt has been super attractive this whole time and you’re just fighting the truth?”

Merritt snorts. “I like that idea.”

By your side, Jack breaks into a wide grin. “It’s okay, Danny. You can talk to us. We’re friends. Tell us your inner truth.”

Danny scoffs. “That is so not my inner truth.”

You arch a brow. “Are you sure? It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve fallen for a Horseman.”

Danny glowers at you. “Low blow, Y/N. And that’s rich coming from you, anyway, given that you’re also dating a Horseman.”

This is true. Unlike Danny, though, you’re quite proud of it. Your relationship with Jack Wilder was quite literally months in the making. It nearly drove the other Horsemen insane with the way both of you couldn’t stop tiptoeing around your feelings, but you both confessed eventually and have been quite happy ever since. Even when your friends try to divert blame onto the two of you to get out of the hot seat.

Jack must be thinking along the same lines, because he just shakes his head and grins. “It’s okay to be jealous of our fantastic relationship, Daniel. It’s not your fault we like each other way more than anyone loves you.”

Merritt chokes on his drink, and has to press a hand to his mouth to stop from laughing any more. “I didn’t laugh. That’s not funny, you two. You should all be nicer.” The twinkle in his eyes, though, lets you know that he’s firmly on your side.

Danny just groans. “Trust me, if this is what love is like, I’m fine without it. I feel like I’m going to be sick to my stomach. Remind me again why I wanted you two together so badly?”

Merritt chuckles. “Because you said the same things when they were just pining uselessly, remember? Ah, good times. And now the two of you can actually tell each other how much you love each other, right?”

He stares directly at Jack, waiting for him to say something. It’s strange, usually Jack has no problem picking up the thread of a joking conversation, always jumping in with another rebuttal, a laughing riposte, but this time, he just stays silent. He seems lost in thought, and maybe it’s just you being paranoid but it seems awfully coincidental that he would zone out just as Merritt brings up the idea of him being in love with you.

And, well, you get it. Love’s a big idea. Especially with your lives on the road now, it’s hard to picture any of you settling down in any way. You and Jack started out just flirting, only catching feelings by accident. You can’t expect him to love you. Even if you know that you’ve loved him for quite a while now.

Truth be told, this isn’t the first time such an issue has crossed your mind. You and Jack have been dating for a couple of months now, and you’ve been questioning things since the halfway point. It’s not Jack’s fault, really, it’s just hard sometimes to understand why he would pick you when there are literally hundreds of thousands of people begging to go out with him at every show. He could have any supermodel, any celebrity, but he chose you. It just makes a person wonder why.

It’s been getting to you lately, the instability of it all. You and Jack have a lovely time joking around, kissing after shows in between bouts of laughter, but he’s never once told you that he actually loves you. There’s a very good chance that he hardly sees this as a relationship at all, more a distraction in between extensive shows, and that to you is more heartbreaking than if he’d never confessed his feelings in the first place. You love Jack, you know you do. You just don’t know that he feels the same way about you.

The conversation drifts off into uneasy silence when Jack still says nothing. When it becomes clear that he’s not going to respond to that, you quickly change the subject, asking Daniel about his thoughts on the way a certain aspect of the job had gone. It’s an easy excuse, and will earn you at least fifteen minutes of uninterrupted Atlas monologue to smooth over the awkwardness, but you still feel your spirits sinking. It wouldn’t have hurt Jack to say something, right? Even just to joke along. He wouldn’t have to have meant it.

Merritt meets your eyes sympathetically, but you look away just as quickly. You don’t want his pity, it just means that he’s aware of the imbalance just as much as you are. Danny’s oblivious enough that he probably won’t notice it, which is good. You don’t want anyone realizing the difference in your affection from Jack’s. Not when you plainly like him more than he does.

It’s not a good feeling, to say the least. It sits with you the rest of the evening, causing you to leave early, claiming exhaustion and wanting an early night’s sleep. Jack tries to coax you to stay a little longer, but you can’t answer his jokes with the same spirit you usually do, making his face fall slightly. Well, a cruel voice whispers in the back of your head, good. He should feel at least a little of the hurt you do right now.

Even that doesn’t make you feel better, though. You lie awake, listening to the soft sounds of your friends laughing together. Jack never has a problem carrying the conversation when it’s just them, then. That means the problem must be you. You joke too much or not enough, and somehow Jack saw that you weren’t quite the right match for him. Maybe somewhere out there is a person who’s perfect for him, who can always pick up what he’s putting down and knows exactly the right amount of emotion to show, but Jack is making it clear that won’t be you.

You fall asleep eventually, but even a good night's sleep isn’t enough to reset your mood. You do your best to act like nothing is the matter, but it’s hard to go on joking with Jack when all you want to do is ask him if he could ever actually see himself loving you.

It takes about a week before he catches on. You’re bailing out of another night of drinks with the Horsemen because you can’t bear to see how flimsy your relationship really is.

Instead of letting you go, though, Jack stays put in your room. “Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”

You feign indifference. “Nothing, really. I’m just tired.”

Jack doesn’t seem convinced. “You’ve been ‘just tired’ for a while now. It’s not like you.”

“Yeah, well, maybe you don’t know me as well as you thought,” you mumble, trying to distract yourself by pretending to look at the papers on your desk.

“What does that mean?” Jack’s voice, suddenly razor-sharp, takes you by surprise.

You lift a shoulder cautiously. “Nothing. Just leave me alone, alright? You’ll have more fun if you’re not stuck with me right now, I know that.”

“That’s not true at all,” Jack protests. “Every time the rest of us go out, I’m miserable. They can all tell you that. It’s no good if you’re not out there with me, Y/N.”

You can’t help a tinge of bitterness from entering your voice. “So you want me to go out with you because you want entertainment? Great, Jack, that definitely makes me feel better.”

He reacts as if you’ve struck him. “That’s not what I mean at all. What’s gotten into you?”

“What’s gotten into me?” You spit out. “Nothing, Jack. Nothing at all. It’s just that I realized you don’t feel half as much about me as I do about you, and surprisingly enough, that doesn’t make me feel the greatest.”

He’s silent, reeling in place. You shake your head slowly. “See, this is why I didn’t want to do all this. Just forget it, alright?”

You try to move past, but Jack’s hand snaps out, weaving around you and blocking your path. “I had no idea you felt like that,” he says softly. “I would have said something sooner, sweetheart, I promise. All this time, I’ve been thinking you didn’t like me that much, so I didn’t want to say something stupid like I love you since I thought it would scare you off. If I had known–” he breaks off in a quiet half-laugh, then continues, “–if I had known that’s what you thought, I would have told you a lot more about just how you make me feel.”

Suddenly, it seems to take a lot of effort to speak again. The weight of your surprise hangs against your throat, slowing the syllables. “You love me?”

“More than anything,” he smiles. “Enough that I didn’t want to hear you say you didn’t love me when I knew how much I loved you. I never asked what you wanted, and I assumed you didn’t want a serious relationship.”

“I want you,” you tell him. He beams.

“And I want you, sweetheart.” In Jack’s arms, it’s easy to forgive him. This has all been a simple misunderstanding, and the greater truth is far lovelier than you could have ever hoped. Maybe you will go out with him tonight after all, tonight and every night until forever. The stars will shine sweetly overhead and you will be happy. With Jack, you think you always will be.

now you see me tag list: @mayfieldss

all tags list: @wordsarelife

93 notes · View notes

godlizzza · 6 months

Note

prompt: Dan compliments Herbert’s skills as a scientist and it turns him on

"You know, Herbert," Dan murmured into his ear, "I've always admired your attention to detail."

Herbert shivered, tipping his head back to give Dan better access to his neck. Dan had him crowded against the wall, hands planted on either side of his head, caging him in. Not that it was necessary; he had no intention of going anywhere, but he appreciated it, nonetheless. He gripped Dan's shirt, tugging his sweet heat and words closer.

"Yes?" Herbert sighed, urging him on.

Dan nosed at his jaw, his breath ghosting over the column of his neck. "Your note taking..." His hand smoothed over Herbert's chest. "Your insight into the human body." He trailed his touch down Herbert's stomach, pausing at the hem of his shirt. "Your...ingenuity." He ran his thumb over Herbert's belt buckle.

Herbert moaned at his touch, shudders wracking his body as he arched into Dan. "Oh, Danny."

Dan's lips were on his throat, kissing and sucking down to his collarbone. Herbert writhed against him, dragging their bodies together in the hope of generating enough friction to relieve the want straining in his pants. His own breathy sighs filled the room as he clutched at Dan's firm back, urging him to keep going, to kiss him on the mouth or keep going south until he fell to his knees.

Just as Dan was crouching down to do just that, Herbert was startled by a voice sharply cutting through the fog that had descended on his brain.

"Herbert!"

He sat up with a snort and was instantly aware of the ache in his jaw. He rubbed at his cheek, his fingers coming away damp from where he'd been laying in a puddle of his own drool. He groaned as he realised he'd fallen asleep at his workbench yet again. He was sure the pages of notes he'd fallen asleep on were indented into his cheeks in harsh red lines. He turned in his seat, straightening up his glasses to find Dan glaring at him from the foot of the stairs.

"Please tell me you didn't leave the re-agent brewing while you've been napping?" Dan snapped. When Herbert didn't reply he rolled his eyes with an exasperated sigh. "You know it makes the air noxious! Not to mention it smells like a hot dumpster. Honestly, how can you even sleep like that? You're lucky your neck doesn't snap in half."

He kept his string of complaints rolling as he crossed the room and began fussing with the vials pumping re-agent around the chemistry set. Herbert listened to it all with a growing sense of morose. He slumped forward, planted his chin in his hands and wondered if he could ever get real Dan to be a bit more like dream Dan.

What a living experience that would be.

#all it takes to make herbert swoon is flattery and/or unhinged behaviour #danbert #dan cain #herbert west #my fics #asks #writing prompt #re-animator #reanimator

55 notes · View notes

obetrolncocktails · 8 months

Text

Ignition | Danny Wagner X f!Reader X Jake Kiszka | Part 2

Have you read Part 1?

Warnings: Depression, unrequited feelings, tooth-rotting Danny fluff, Jake angst

Word Count: 6,023

Summary: In the midst of your own misery, Danny Wagner swept in out of the rain and pulled you out of it. So, what should you expect from him? Where do you go from here? Instead of overthinking, you decide instead, to jump on his motorcycle and take a risk.

“Deep breath in, pretty boy,” the piercer warned, holding onto Danny's ear. He was already scrunching his eyes closed, which made you snort.

“For such a badass, you really act like a baby,” you teased. You felt the throbbing sting of your upper ear where Tiffany had given you your piercing. Already, you loved it, rotating the stud as you looked at it in the mirror.

“Hey, no touching,” She scolded, narrowing her eyes at you.

“Sorry,” you apologized, clearing your throat, sidling up to the table where Danny sat.

“Ready, Randy?” Tiffany asked, her voice deep and throaty, most likely from years of smoking. The entire parlor smelled of cigarettes. It wouldn’t have surprised you had she decided to place a lit cigarette behind her ear, picking up puffs in between piercings.

“Danny,” He corrected, looking up at you with a sly grin.

“Whatever you say,” She continued. “Three, Two–” She pierced his ear, and you watched his eyes squeeze shut from the pain.

“Is it done?” He asked, still cowering from the pain.

“Yes,” you snorted, looking up at Tiffany who didn’t look amused.

“Tips are appreciated. Don’t play with your piercings. Let them heal before putting in hoops. Stay away from non-surgical steel, nickel, and other cheap shit.” You reached for your wallet and handed her a tip, smiling and offering a quiet thank you before stepping out of the shop with Danny in tow behind you.

“I can’t believe you actually did it,” you told him, pushing him by his shoulder.

“You wanted to be impulsive, so I figured I’d do the same,” He shrugged. “Hurt like a bitch though.”

“Well, that’s because you’re really a wuss,” you teased, looking up at him with glee. Riding on the spike of adrenaline, you continued, watching him as he looked down at you with a wide, curious grin. “I have one more thing I’d like to do while being impulsive.”

He raised an eyebrow. “And what’s that?” He asked.

Stepping forward into him, you wrapped your hands around the zipper of his open leather jacket, and pulled him downward, his clean, masculine scent looping around you like an elixir. He leaned the rest of the way to pull you into the kiss, his arms secured at your waist, then traveling upward to caress your jawline. His lips were like plush velvet; so soft and supple–luxurious, even. In the moment, you had played it up into just being fun, but as you broke the kiss and dropped back to your feet. You ran your tongue over the soft ridge of your lip from the pressure of the kiss against your teeth, pleasantly surprised at how good the kiss was.

“That was…” Danny said, his hands still hovering in the air around you.

“Come on,” you said, not giving him time to process. Instead, you took his hand and pulled him back to the bike, not pausing to worry about his boyish, flustered expression while you did it.

“Where are we going?” He asked, handing you the helmet once again.

“Anywhere,” You told him. “Just drive.”

As he drove, your thoughts wandered to Jake, and you wondered if he thought about you in the time you had been radio silent with each other. Then you got angry. You felt your skin ignite from head to toe as you clung to Danny. Fuck him, you thought. He showed you all the signs. He flirted with you. He made sure to look nice every time you hung out. Hell, he’d complimented you often–he’d even held your hand. You felt so confident that he felt the same way about you. His actions over the last few months had empowered you, giving you the courage to risk your friendship for more–and he blew it. No, he blasted that chance into smithereens. You thought about his last text, telling you to take care of yourself, and that he was always there for you. It just made you angry.

“You’re quiet,” Danny said over his shoulder as he pulled to a stop at a redlight. “Everything okay?” He asked. You thanked God that he couldn’t see your face, as a single angry tear betrayed your composure.

“I’m fine,” you answered, embarrassing yourself when you unintentionally sniffled the rest of the tears away. He reached a hand back and squeezed your knee firmly, silently reminding you that he was there for you, and that he understood without the need for conversation what was the matter. The late afternoon was beginning to fade into soft featherings of orange, pink, and lavender and you enjoyed the feeling of the wind against your skin. The heat of the afternoon had cooled, changing your mood for the better as Danny continued to drive down the highway. There weren’t many cars on the road, which made for a peaceful ride. You didn’t know if he had a destination in mind, but you didn’t care, either. Something about him made you feel safe.

“We’re here,” He said after a while, pulling into an empty parking lot. “Lynnwood Way Lookout,” He continued, turning off the bike. The sky was still illuminated above, which allowed you to look out into the trees as the colors you had seen on the highway began to intensify and darken toward the rolling hills of the horizon.

“Wow, this is incredible,” you turned to Danny as you both took in the sight. His features were relaxed, but his eyes were bright with wonder as snerenity washed over the scenery.

“Isn’t it?” He asked. “Come on,” He said after a pause. You stepped off of the bike, stretching your legs from the ride.

“It’s been forever since I’ve been out here,” he admitted, taking off his leather jacket, laying it over the handlebars of the bike. Your eyes fell over his chest as you mentally noted the contour of his muscles through his shirt. “I used to come out here a lot when we first moved to Nashville,” he explained.

“Do you bring a lot of girls here?” You teased, grinning up at him.

“No, actually,” he answered, surprising you. “This has always just been my place,” he said, stepping toward the lookout’s edge, placing his hands on his hips as he looked out at the treetops. “I came here all the time when I was feeling my lowest,” he explained. “Which, at one point, was quite a lot.”

“The entire time I’ve known you, you’ve always seemed so happy,” you said, your tone coming out unintentionally speculative.

“All of us pretend to be happy a time or two, Y/n.” He looked over at you calmly. His curls danced softly in the evening breeze. If you were even half as good of an artist as your heart wanted you to be, you could have painted the picture of him in front of you, his eyes so intense with abundant wisdom and honesty. His gaze roamed over your body and soul, and transfixed you like you’d never experienced before. You couldn’t explain it to yourself, let alone to anyone else.

“Pretending makes it easier for those around us,” he continued, placing his clasped hands on the concrete barrier as he continued to look out. “So I did it for a while, until I couldn’t anymore.” You nodded with understanding, relating more to him than you were comfortable admitting–yet.

“I get it,” you said quietly.

“It was really hard at the beginning, you know? As a band, I mean. We’re still growing, of course. But when we were getting our footing out here as a band, it was rough. It still is. I guess I’ve just gotten better at filtering out the bullshit.” He shrugged lightly, but you could tell that these were heavy emotions that he carried.

“What exactly were you going through?” you asked, risking being too invasive.

“Oh you know,” He began almost sarcastically. “I’m not one of the brothers, I’m not conventionally attractive–I drum just like John Bonham, or really, I just suck in general.”

“People are just awful,” you told him, reaching to squeeze his arm fondly. “I’m really sorry, Danny. I didn’t realize it affected you as much as it did.”

He shrugged again. “No one really does,” he admitted. “It’s because I’ve been hiding it for a while now. The boys know about the hate, and they check on me every now and then when it gets really bad, but I guess I just deal with it on my own for the most part.”

You stood beside him content in the silence as you thought back on the time you’d known him. Yes, you were friends, but never close enough to have conversations like this. Now that you were here with him, especially after today, you wanted more of him.

“How are you, Y/n?” He asked, turning to you after a while. “I’ve spent too much time talking about myself,” He chuckled nervously. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no,” you dismissed his worry, pausing for a moment. “I’m okay, I guess. I don’t think I’ll really know how I am until I talk to him again, you know? I feel like I’ve forced myself to be numb. I do miss him, though.”

“You’re not going to reach out to him, though,” he said as a statement, eyeing you with a slight smirk.

“Nope,” You answered instantly, the ‘p’ in the word popping from between your lips.

“He’s probably scared to talk to you,” he offered. “He doesn’t want to upset you further. I’d bet that’s why he hasn’t said anything.”

“Would you reach out after you told your bestfriend you didn’t have feelings for them, and then destroyed their heart by stabbing a thousand holes into it?” You asked sarcastically.

“Wow, that’s very dramatic,” he chuckled, turning to you. “But yes, if it meant enough to me, I’d reach out, even if it was embarrassing. Even if it made me cringe to even think about–because I’d rather risk looking like a jackass than losing my best friend.”

You swallowed, feeling the ache in your throat as anger surged forward. “It’s been almost two weeks, Danny. Two weeks and he hasn’t reached out. Hasn’t called. Shit, he hasn’t even tried to talk to me through you, Sam or Josh.”

“To be honest, Y/n, he hasn’t really spoken to anyone. I only knew about everything because you hadn’t come by and I forced him to tell me at least the bare minimum. Even then, he really didn’t want to talk about it.”

“God, he’s such a pussy.”

“I don’t think that’s the case,” Danny countered. “I think you both are just so stubborn that neither one of you knows how to move forward.”

“It’s just not right for it to be me,” You said, sighing heavily.

“Why don’t you come to rehearsal tomorrow?” Danny asked, biting his bottom lip. “Let’s grab lunch, and then we can meet at the office,” he suggested.

“With Jake?” You asked “Danny, you’re crazy.”

“No, with me.” He grinned. “Come have lunch with me. My treat.” The invitation was casual, friendly, and no doubt refreshing.

“You know what? Sure,” You agreed. “I think I’d like that.”

“Yeah?” He asked. “We rarely get to hang out. Plus, today was surprisingly really fun.”

“Are you surprised that you actually had fun with me, Wagner?” You asked, staring at him intently, mostly to test him. You couldn’t help the grin that was beginning to grow wider and wider as he squirmed in front of you.

“No, no, you know what I meant– I didn’t–”

“I was just joking, relax,” you chuckled, reaching for his hand and squeezing it. You watched as his features loosened as he looked down at your clasped hands. You pulled away, clearing your throat. “But yes, I’d love lunch,” you finished with an enthusiastic smile.

***

The drive back to the record store was quiet and chilly, and, if the cliché hadn’t been established for decades, you really could have used Danny’s jacket for warmth. Wrapping yourself around him did help though, and it took everything in you not to fall asleep as you rested against his back.

“Hey,” he said once he entered the downtown area. “We’re almost at The Bohemian. I’ll take you to your car.”

“Thanks,” you told him sleepily, feeling the urgent need to stretch and move your limbs. As he parked beside your car, something tugged at your heart, making you want to stay with him longer. He made you feel safe, his presence like a protective cocoon of sorts that you never expected, but so desperately needed.

“Today was…really nice,” you told him after stepping off of his bike.

“It really was,” he agreed with a soft smile. “Are you good to drive home?” He asked, most definitely seeing how sleepy you were.

“Yeah, I’ll be okay,” you nodded. “Don’t worry.”

“Will you text me that you got home safe?” He asked.

“Of course,” you assured him.

“Okay,” he smiled, turning the bike back on. Watching him on the motorcycle was extremely sexy, and anyone watching would have thought the same thing. “See you tomorrow.”

“Bye,” You said, waving to him as you lowered yourself into your car. He waited in the parking lot for you to pull out first, and you heard his engine revving as he turned the opposite way onto the street. For the first time since the fall out with Jake, you felt like you could breathe, and though you missed him, Danny had filled you with genuine happiness today. He had literally come out of nowhere, and now, you wanted more of him, but you weren’t ready to admit that to even yourself. Before you stepped out of your car to go inside, you reached for your phone and texted Danny immediately. “I’m home. Thank you for a great day, Danny. I really needed it. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Stepping into the house conjured a mixture of feelings. It was messy inside, proof of the slump you had let yourself slip into. There were dirty dishes piled up, couch pillows scattered on the floor, and you realized that you had left the TV on the entire time you were gone. You didn’t have the energy to clean up, so you reached for the remote, turned the TV off and walked straight to your bedroom and got into bed.

“Count on it,” Danny had responded to your latest text with a smiley face. You went to bed with both hope and anxiety. You hoped that you’d mend bridges with Jake before rehearsal, and you were grateful that Danny was there to support you. You let your thoughts roam as you pondered the many different outcomes after you and Jake had finally spoken.

***

“Good Morning.” Danny texted you the next morning, making you smile. It had been forever since you’d gotten texts like that, and even though you knew it meant nothing serious, just the kind greeting had shifted your mood, starting your day off in good spirits.

“Good Morning! Where are we meeting for lunch?” You texted back before starting a shower. Stepping in, you imagined washing off all of the misery from the last two weeks and starting fresh. Once you stepped out of the shower, you’d be strong again. You’d know what to say to Jake, and everything would be okay.

“Well, I figured I’d pick you up (in my car this time), and we’d go to the rehearsal together. Sound like a plan?”

You saw the text, and then the three dots that appeared under it.

“Of course, you can drive too if you want. No pressure.”

He was so careful. You smiled as you typed out a response.

“I don’t know,” you texted back. “I might not think you’re as cool or sexy if you pick me up in a regular car. ;)” You imagined the grin he’d have while reading your text.

Getting dressed, you slipped on a comfortable and cute summer dress that fell to your knees in soft, chiffon frills. The dress was white with blue, printed flowers, and it made you feel pretty and confident when you wore it. You let your hair fall in loose waves over your shoulders, applying light makeup.

“A vehicle will never determine my sexiness, Y/n. Is that all I am to you? A piece of meat?” He was most definitely flirting, and you definitely wouldn’t turn it down.

“Oh idk, maybe you’ll have to show me your worthiness instead…” You finished the text with a wink emoji, testing the waters further before slipping your shoes on and grabbing your purse.

“I’ll be there in ten. You’re heartless!”

He pulled up just on time, rolling his passenger window down, chewing gum with dark shades over his eyes. “Taxi,” He said with a grin. He drove an incredibly beautiful black Corvette coupe that was so glossy, you could see your reflection in it. You’d seen it before when the boys would rehearse or when they’d gather at each others’ houses, but you’d half-forgotten he’d driven a car this beautiful.

“Holy shit,” you blurted, your eyes widening.

“Am I sexy now?” He asked, propping his sunglasses on the top of his head, his curls framing his face perfectly.

“Yes, Danny. You’re a Greek god,” You spoke in a syrupy–sweet tone, playing as if he’d somehow seduced you instantly. “I don’t know how I never saw your incredible beauty before.” You internally cringed, because, though he didn’t know, the second half of your playful statement was true. He chuckled lightly, breaking the joke, patting the seat beside him.

“Jump in, you tease. Watch your head while you get in. It’s lower than you think.” You watched him for a moment as he chewed on his bubble gum, his bright teeth glinting in the sunlight. oh fuck me, you thought. Why did all four of these men have to be so goddamn attractive? What is wrong with the world? Stepping into the car, you immediately forgot Danny’s warning and slammed your head into the top of the car door on the way down.

“Fuck,” You spat, your tone filled with pain as you pulled your arms upward, rolling instinctively into yourself to wait until the pain subsided.

“Oh my God,” he said, turning in his seat, his hands hovering around your head, not exactly sure how to help. “Are you okay?” He asked. In the moment, if you had the focus, you would have made fun of him for it. “Let me see,” He said, his fingers gently lifting your hands away from the area. “How hard does it hurt when I do this?” He asked, pressing his thumb against your skin in different areas.

“It hurts,” you admitted, squeezing your eyes shut. “But not too bad.”

“That’s a good sign,” he said. “You’re literally hard headed,” he said with a smile. You rolled your eyes, and to your surprise, he leaned forward and placed a kiss on the injury. “For the record, I did tell you to watch out.”

“Yeah, well I’m not very good at following directions,” you told him, rubbing out the injury as the pain began to subside.

“You’re gonna be the reason I keep a first aid kit in here,” he said, putting the car in gear as you fastened your seatbelt. You liked the idea of him purchasing and having an item specifically for you, even if it was as stupid as a first aid kit for your clumsiness. Plus, it made you feel good that he wanted you in his car again, that he wanted to spend more time with you.

“That might not be the worst idea,” you admitted, sitting up in your seat. “So, where are we going to eat?” You asked, changing the topic as he pulled onto the road.

“Just wait,” He said, offering a knowing grin. “You’re about to fall in love.”

“Already did that. Didn’t turn out too good,” you said sardonically, turning your head and looking at him.

“Hush. It’s you, me and lunch. It’ll be fun,"he responded. “Okay?” He asked.

“Okay,” You nodded, turning to look out of the window as he drove.

***

“What do you mean you outran a mountain goat at field day?” You asked Danny, laughing so loudly, it was a surprise you hadn’t been asked to leave the restaurant.

“It’s true! His name was Billy,” Danny continued, shoveling a forkful of his food into his mouth.

“Billy? Like Billy Goat?” You asked, snorting through your nose.

“Hey, I didn’t name it, I just raced it. You decide who the stupider person was.” His eyes were bright with amusement.

You shook your head with disbelief. “You have to be lying. That can't possibly be true.”

“It is! Mom probably has pictures. Hold on,” He said, wiping his hands and reaching into his pocket, facetiming his mother, Lori. You heard the dial tone beep as he waited for her to pick up.

“Daniel!” She greeted him. “What’s up, honey?” She asked through the phone.

“Hey Mom, I’m at lunch with Y/n,” He continued.

“Jake’s friend!” She said, waving at you on the other side of the screen. It made you cringe when she mentioned Jake. “Hi, sweetie!”

“Hi, Mrs. Wagner.” You offered her a friendly smile.

“Please, only doctors and bankers call me that. Call me Lori, always!” You nodded, smiling at her.

“Yes ma’am.”

“Anyway, Mom. Y/n doesn’t believe me that I raced a mountain goat at school,” he said.

“Oh he definitely did. Don’t tell me how that was approved, considering what could have happened. Luckily, Daniel had some speed and some height. I have pictures somewhere on my phone or on my computer. I’ll find them soon and send them to you.

“Thanks for vouching for me, Mom,” Danny thanked her, offering you a wink over the phone camera. “I’ll talk to you later, okay? Tell dad and Josie I said I love them.”

“Will do, baby. Talk to you soon. Bye Y/n!” She said, waving into the phone camera.

“Bye Mrs–Lori!” You said, cringing at yourself.

“Bye,” Danny said one more time before hanging up.

“You’re not lying,” You said, impressed.

“Nope. Trust me, Frankenmuth isn’t only known for the Christmas shops and kitschy stores. At school,” He continued, taking a sip of his water. “There were days when students got to come to school on their horses.”

“On horses?” You asked. “You’re bullshitting me, Wagner.”

“I swear to God!” He attested, leaning further into the table as he explained. “ =They’d just tie them up to the nearest post or tree, and then go into school. The teachers would actually let them out later to check on them.”

“That’s incredible,” you chuckled.

“Rednecks don’t exist only in the south,” He smirked. “Yeehaw!”

“You’re full of surprises,” You told him. “What else do you have up your sleeve, Danny?” You asked, pushing your finished plate away from you.

“Oh trust me, I am full of surprises. You’ll just have to stay long enough for me to reveal them all to you.”

You liked that. He had such a vivacious, and lively spirit, and you wished you had experienced it earlier. “You’re pretty cool, Wagner,” you admitted, sitting back in your seat.

“Eh,” he shrugged. “Only when I’m trying to impress.” You watched as he waved over your server for the check, as if what he said wasn’t flirtatious in the slightest. You felt the heat creeping up your neck.

“I’m going to the restroom, I’ll be right back,” you told him casually, pulling yourself up from the table.

Everything was becoming confusing. There was a hole in your life that had yet to be filled, but at the same time, Danny had swept in, just like a late-evening summer rain shower, providing you with a reminder of your worth, just in time for the sun to come back out and sparkle against your wet skin. He made you feel the way children do when they have the opportunity to play in the rain fully clothed, with no concern for their cleanliness. You imagined the picture of a child-sized you, tilting your head back and sticking your tongue out to the sky, catching cool raindrops as they fell.

Danny made you feel sexy, desirable, and spontaneous–a feeling you hadn’t had in forever. You felt loved and special around Jake, but recently over the last few months, it had turned into intense longing, lust, anxiety, and ultimately heartbreak. They always say never go after your best friend, but they also say the heart wants what it wants. Both clichés had destroyed you in the end. Danny felt like the possibility of a new beginning, a new direction, and perhaps, maybe he was the right choice all along.

In the short time you had spent together, the connection was instant and effortless, but you weren’t sure if it felt that way because you’d filled Jake’s absence with Danny, instead. You washed your hands, trying your best to wash away those thoughts at the same time.

“Hey,” you said softly, arriving back at the table.

“Hey,” He smiled warmly at you. “Thought you’d taken the free meal and ran,” he grinned.

“Not in the slightest,” you told him with a matching smirk. “I would have at least told you in person I wasn’t feeling you. Haven’t quite decided yet, if you’re wondering.”

“You’re a heartbreaker, aren’t you, Y/n?”

“There’s nothing but steel in here,” You responded, placing your hand over your heart.

“Ah,” He nodded. “Lucky for you, I melt even the coldest, hardest hearts. Even those made of steel.”

“Mm,” you nodded, amused. “Ah!” You groaned, pretending to feel pain in your chest. “I’m feeling it!”

He laughed genuinely, the sound of it vibrating through your body like a bell that had been struck.

“Come on,” he said with a grin, standing up from the table and reaching his hand out to you. “Let’s go.”

You looked up at his hand for a moment, deciding you’d jump in and take the risks you’d considered earlier. You took his hand in yours and immediately felt the length of his fingers tightening around yours, his large hand fitting in yours perfectly. You squeezed his hand once, and smiled when he looked down at you while walking out of the restaurant.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Danny told you as you both sat in his car. “I’m here for you.”

“I feel like I’m gonna puke,” you admitted, feeling your lunch flop in your stomach.

“Well, take it outside the car,” he grinned, his eyebrows raising sympathetically behind the joke.

“You won’t be alone. I’ll be with you.” You looked back at him. “Whatever happens, I’ll be there. I promise.” He lifted his pinky into the air for you to take. You smiled, rolling your eyes, lifting your pinky and lacing it with his.

“Okay. I’m ready,” you decided, opening your car door, and stepping out of it. You knew this space well, and you’d attended countless rehearsals, but you were in an entirely different circumstance now. “Did you tell Jake I was coming?”

“Nope,” Danny admitted, pulling his sunglasses off as he opened the door for you. “It doesn’t matter, though. It shouldn’t bother him, should it?” He asked, reaching for your hand once you were inside.

“I don’t know,” was all you could think to say.

“Daniel!” Josh called, padding through the hallway barefoot, a cup with steaming liquid in his left hand. “And Y/n,” he said, his tone deflating the tiniest bit, even though he didn’t mean for it to. “Sorry, I just wasn’t expecting you,” He said, lowering his voice.

“Yeah, Danny invited me, and it’s been a while since I’ve seen you and Sam, so I thought I’d stop by.” You purposefully omitted Jake’s name, knowing most definitely that Josh knew about everything. He let it slide. “We’re set to start in about fifteen minutes,” Josh said, taking a deep swig of his beverage.

“Sure about that?” Danny asked. “Strange that you’re the timekeeper is all I’m saying.”

“Kiss it,” Josh said playfully, turning to head toward the rehearsal space.

Despite the casual play, nervousness coursed through your body, and you weren’t sure if it would subside once you saw Jake. “I’m gonna go grab my sticks and check my kit. You can tag along if you want.” He turned the corner with you, stopping at the threshold of the rehearsal room.

“No.” You shook your head, choosing to be brave. “I’m okay. I’ll be okay,” you corrected. “Don’t worry.” You offered him a thin smile. He squeezed your hand one last time and left you.

As you turned, you faced Jake head on. Sitting on a stool at the far side of the room, he sat, strumming mindlessly on his guitar, but he wasn’t focusing on it. His eyes were set on you, his gaze pointed downward where yours and Danny’s hands had been intertwined. You swallowed. He wore dark sunglasses, his shirt characteristically left unbuttoned, and he’d worn his two-toned jeans, just as you knew he would. You nodded at him in a gentle greeting, and he did the same, reaching to push up his sunglasses. You strode further into the room, walking the dreaded distance between you and him, feeling your heart pound faster and faster as you moved closer.

“Hi,” he said, finally, silently holding down frets as he pretended to practice his fingerings. He didn’t practice, so you knew he was nervous, too.

“Hey,” you answered coolly.

“It’s good to see you,” he said, putting his guitar on its stand beside him. You didn’t say anything initially, choosing to cross your arms across your chest.

“Yeah, Danny invited me, so,” You offered, turning over your shoulder to look at Danny who glanced up at you with a protector’s gaze. “I thought I’d come by.”

He nodded, as if trying to understand the pairing. “How have you been?” He asked, playing with his bracelets.

You took a deep breath, frustrated with his small talk responses, especially given the circumstances. “Honestly Jake, I’m not very good. But you wouldn’t know that, seems as you couldn’t bother to pick up the phone and call me, or even come see me,” You gathered the courage to say, forcing yourself to make eye contact with him.

“I- I don’t know what to say,” Jake said, rubbing his chin. “I didn’t want to hurt you even more than I already had.”

“And you destroyed me by not trying at all.” You watched as his features fell slack, and though it killed you to see him that way, you stood your ground, because you meant what you said.

“I couldn't be that person for you,” Jake responded almost defensively. “Not when you felt–you know– that way about me.”

“You couldn’t be my best friend?” You said, feeling tears prickling at your eyes.

He was silent for a long moment, averting eye contact. You watched as he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing with emotion. “Wow,” he said, nodding slowly, the corners of his mouth curving upward just slightly.

“Jake. I love you. I fucking hate that I love you. But you fucked me up. You fucked me up in ways that I can’t even begin to explain. Not because you didn’t have feelings back, but because you completely abandoned me when I needed you most.”

“I get it,” He said slowly. “I’m sorry I hurt you, Y/n. I wish I had acted differently, okay? I didn’t know what to do, and I know I can’t take it back,” He continued, choosing his words very carefully.

“You’re right. You really can’t, can you?” You acknowledged him.

“Y/n, please,” he pleaded. “I’m trying to apologize.”

“Words mean nothing to me now, Jake. Your actions already showed me how you feel,” you shrugged. “And I’m starting to believe this was all one-sided this entire time.”

“Don’t say that. Please don’t ever say that again. It’s not true.”

“You know what, Jake? I’m realizing that I’m too angry to make up with you today,” you admitted, taking in a deep breath and stepping back from him. “I’m tired of always having to be openly vulnerable and getting nothing back in return. I’m fucking exhausted. Talk to me when your pity fest is over.” With that, you turned on your heel and marched away, determined to move on, regardless of if that meant you were going to lose your best friend in the process.

It didn’t go in the slightest how you’d expected it would, but at the same time, you stepped away with your pride and dignity intact, and that was enough.

You watched quietly as the rest of rehearsal dragged on, the boys working through different setlist configurations, and practicing the different transitions between songs, including Jake’s guitar solos. As you sat, you’d regretted accepting Danny’s offer to come to rehearsal. All you wanted to do was run away, but since you were already here, and you had come with Danny, you were stuck. At the same time, you didn’t want to leave without Danny. The only things that helped you power through the rehearsal were the glances that he stole as he played, winking when he locked eyes with you.

Every time he looked at you, you felt a spark of excitement and curiosity, wondering what he was thinking, and if he had felt the same tug that urged you to stay with him, and to spend time with him. You watched Jake play, twisting and writhing with his guitar in hand, as if it possessed enough power to tether worlds together. God it was annoying how masterful he was, but there was no denying that he wasn’t beautiful to look at. After a while, you had to relax your expression, having focused so intently, you were sure you looked ridiculous. Your heart fluttered as he shook the sweaty, damp hair from his face, his sunglasses still obscuring his gaze. You wondered if perhaps he was using them as a defensive mechanism so you couldn’t always tell if and when he was looking at you. Then again, he probably wasn’t even thinking about you, anyway. He didn’t seem to really care that much, so you shouldn’t haven’t been so concerned to start with.

“Doing okay?” Danny asked, approaching you after the boys had called the rehearsal. You had busied yourself by scrolling idly through social media, looking up finally when he spoke. “Yeah, I’m okay,” you said, breathing deeply and sitting up straight.

“Ready to go?” He asked casually, and you perked up instantly. Getting the chance to be alone with Danny again filled you with excitement, though you worked to make it not so obvious.

“Mmhmm,” You nodded, putting your phone away and standing up to join him.

“Danny…” you began, thinking of ways to finish your thought.

“Hm?” He asked, turning his head to look at you.

“Can we not go home? I mean, like–” you continued, considering restarting your question. “Can we go do something? Together?” You asked him, trying your hardest not to blush.

“Are you asking me out on a date?” He asked you, offering that delectable grin that revealed his almost too-white smile. Goddamn, why did he have to be so sexy looking down at you like that?

“Well, i–”

“Because if you are,” He continued, cutting you off on purpose. “Then I’d say I’d want nothing more than to take you out on a date, Y/n. But only if you think you’re ready and if you really want to.” This time, you didn’t hide the giddiness in your expression.

“I’d love that,” you smiled brightly.

“Good,” he grinned in response, biting his bottom lip. Reaching his hand out in front of him, he silently asked for your hand, and you instantly answered him with yours, clasping your fingers together again. He raised your hand in his and kissed the top of it before dropping it to his side, swinging his arm with yours as he walked.

End of Part 2.

If you would like to be added to the taglist, fill out this form!

Taglist: @ohgodthefeeling-gvf, @astreamofcolors, @sammysobaby, @gretavanfreakmadie, @ultramudblood-blog, @tidelander92, @weneedsomehealing123, @sarahstardust7, @strawberryblondeee, @ddaelyn-blog, @squirreledelman, @haylaps, @madneedshelp, @watchingover-hypegirl, @llightmyllovee, @moralmorbid, @gretavangroupie, @jordie-gvf-admin, @brujamagik, @gretasmokerising, @ascendingtothestarsasone, @mama-likes72, @gold-mines-melting, @songbirds-sweet, @myownparadise96, @sanguinebats @sulkyrie, @ageoferin, @sicksadandrad, @mackalah, @interstellar-shores, @jakekiszkasmommy, @laneygvf, @overtheehillsandfarawayy, @takenbythemadness, @joshskittytickler21, @gretasoneandonly, @noooa, @jaketlove, @flwrpwrkay, @gretasfallingsky, @suzi107, @rossi1080, @cheersdani, @starshine-gvf, @itsdannysworld, @lipstickitty, @scoreofinfantryvines, @gretavanschmeat, @dannythedog, @capturethechaos, @tripthelightfatality @hippievanfleet @demolitionndann @thetroublegetssoloud71

#Danny Wagner #gvf #Danny GVF #Jake Kiszka #Jake GVF #greta van fleet #gretavanfleet #jake kiszka fic #jake kiszka x reader #greta van fleet fic #gvf fanfiction #jake kiszka smut #greta van fleet fanfic #Danny Wagner fanfic #Danny Wagner x reader

127 notes · View notes