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clockwayswrites · 5 months

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Like Betta Fish Do Part 28

wc: 3020, masterpost

“I get why you insisted on picking me up,” she said as she watched the black sedan part the sea of reporters outside of Wayne Manor. Her hand made a half aborted motion, like she wanted to fidget with with her hair despite the red being cropped close to her scalp in a pixie cut.

The haircut would be a new thing, or new enough that in stress old habits were still there. Perhaps something she did when moving into her doctorate. A new hair cut to go with a new stage of life. She went for an extreme though, maybe trying to shed a metaphorical weight or maybe a bob would have been too much like her mother’s hair. Maybe both.

Dick gave his head a little shake and tried to stuff the parts of himself that couldn’t help be analyze someone away.

It was worse with the stress of it all.

“I know, right? They’ve been crazy,” Dick said with a laugh.

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

Dick blinked. “Do what?”

“Pretend everything is okay. You don’t have to do what with me. After all, we’re both big siblings, aren’t we?” Her own, wry smile didn’t reach her aquamarine eyes.

Dick wanted to protest and for a moment he almost did. Then Dick just sighed and let himself slump into his seat. “That obvious?”

“No, I just know what it’s like,” Jazz said.

“I shouldn’t be putting this on you though, not with what happened to Danny—”

She held up manicured hand. “Don’t. Suffering isn’t a competition. Besides, I got to learn this happened knowing that Danny was already safe and being taken care of. I didn’t have to think he was dead like you all did. I also didn’t have to learn about all the rest of it. It’s hard, isn’t it?”

“Knowing my little brother is still dead?” Dick gave a bitter bark of a laugh. “Yeah, it’s hard.”

“Half dead,” Jazz said with a smile that was all too understanding. “That half part is important to them. They’re half dead. They’re half alive. They aren’t the little brothers we had before and that’s hard. It’s okay for that to be hard.”

Dick rubbed at his face. “It shouldn’t change anything.”

“But it does.”

“It does.”

“That’s alright,” Jazz soothed. “It’s a big fact, of course it’s going to change things. As long as he’s still your little brother and you love him then the rest won’t matter so much, not with some time.”

The car came to a stop in the garage. Dick let himself take a deep breath as the door rolled closed. It was always about needing time, but at least they still had it.

“Well, Miss Nightingale, shall we go inside?”

“Thank you, Mister Grayson,” she said and took his offered hand to get out of the car. “And thank you again for the ride, Alfred. Picking me up from WE was the right move.”

“And you needn’t worry about your car, it will be safe in the parking garage,” Alfred assured her.

She covered an amused snort with her hand. “You saw my car, no one is going to try and steal that old thing.”

Alfred held the door to the house open. “Perhaps slightly more worried about the press hoping to find something.”

“Would they really break into my car?”

“They would,” Tim said from where he was standing inside the door, typing away on a tablet. “Gotham’s lost prince shows up at a gala with his mystery boyfriend and then proceeds to press the kill button for said boyfriend? The press is going insane for it. If it was just Gotham’s press it would be one thing, but it’s broken containment and fast. Have you said anything to any reporters? Even any non statements? Is there anything that the might dig up on you, other than your parents, that we need to know about?”

“Jazz, this is Tim. We’re sorry about him,” Dick said with a strained smile. It only got worse when he took in Tim and the heavy bags under Tim’s eyes. “Tim, when was the last time you slept?”

Tim waved the question away. “I had a power nap after breakfast.”

“What Master Timothy means is that he fell asleep at the table mid-meal,” Alfred chastised as he continue into the manor proper.

“Still counts,” Tim muttered. Finally he looked up from his tablet to blink listlessly at them. “Well?”

“Tim,” Dick chastised.

“No, it’s fine,” Jazz said with a patient smile of someone used to behavior like this. “It really is… everywhere. I haven’t said anything to any press other than ‘no statement’ and I can’t think of anything. Well, I mean, I have a girlfriend but if they have an issue with her they already have Danny and Jason to rage over. How is Danny handling it all?”

“Tim has blocked all social media from the manor. You need a password to get through it and I don’t think they’ve been bored enough to try and crack it yet,” Dick said.

Jazz looked thoughtful. “That’s probably best. I’m alright with you asking more questions, but can I see Danny first, please?”

Tim blinked as if startled by the thought. “Yes, right, of course. They’re probably still in the library, that’s where I saw them last.”

“That was yesterday,” Dick pointed out.

“Oh, well,” Tim tilted his head but didn’t stop talking. “I bet I’m still right.”

Dick just sighed and exchanged a look with Jazz. Little brothers.

Jazz crouched down in front of the couch and reached out to run her fingers through Danny’s hair.

“Danny.”

“Nn.”

The corner of her mouth ticked up. “Danny.”

“’ive m’er min, Jazz,” he mumbled sleepily.

“If you don’t get up, I’m calling Cujo.”

“I’m up, I’m up!” Danny explained and jolted awake before he was left just blinking confessedly at the room. When the rest of it snapped together for him he smiled brightly. “Jazz!”

“Danny!”

“Your hair looks even better in person!” Danny said, reaching out to ruffle the short locks.

“I don’t care if you’re on your deathbed Danny, I will bite you.”

Danny sighed dramatically as he sat up properly. “I never get to die on a bed. At least this time I was sitting.”

Jazz leaned forward and wrapped Danny up into a crushing looking hug. “Oh Danny, what am I going to do with you?”

“Still don’t have an answer for you there, Jazz,” Danny said. He was practically curled around Jazz and stayed that way as she shifted to sit with him on the couch.

She looked up at Jason who was still standing awkwardly by the couch where he had greeted her. “You can sit. I don’t bite.”

Jason snorted. “You just threatened to bite Danny. I don’t believe you.”

“Her bites aren’t bad,” Danny said with a yawn. “But her aim is horrible. And don’t let her have a baseball bat. She’s lethal with one of those.”

The almost fanged way that Jazz smile made that easy to believe.

“I approve of you, Nightingale,” Damian said with a decisive nod from the armchair he was occupying.

“What are you going to do now that there are two Nightingales?” Tim asked, far too innocently.

Damian scowled, his whole face scrunched up before he gave a sharp shrug. “I am confident that the Nightingales are intelligent enough to know which one I am referring to.”

Jason shook his head at the easy way the brat seemed to accept Jazz and settled on the far side of the couch from her, leaving Dick and Tim to take the two seater.

“You didn’t have to come all this way, Jazz,” Danny said, though his words were at odds with how thoroughly he had relaxed into her side.

Jazz rolled her eyes. “You were electrocute Danny, again. Of course I was going to come see you. Even if classes were in session, you’re more important than them.”

“Hum, fine,” Danny said with a huff of air. Somehow he settled in even further to his sister’s side. “Sam, Val, and Tucker send their love. With all the crazy press I told them to stay away so not to get caught up in this.”

“It is something for sure,” Jazz agreed. “How are you doing?”

“I’m tired and tired of being tired, it sucks. Oh, I’ve got more Lichtenberg scars!” Danny stuck his legs up in the air. His fuzzy, Nightwing patterned pants slid down his legs enough to show the scarring that wrapped around his ankles. The marks were still raised and red. Jason caught the legs as they dropped and settled them into his lap. He couldn’t help but run his thumb over the mark as soft reassurance that Danny was there and alive despite it all. “Not sure if these will stick around since they’re not ghostly.”

“You need to stop collecting them. No more getting electrocuted, big sister’s order.”

“Second that on boyfriend’s orders,” Jason said.

“Thirding that from the in-laws,” Dick said. In-laws? “Aw look at that, Jaybird is blushing.”

Jason pulled a throw pillow out from behind him and lobbed it at Dick. “Shut it.”

Dick easily caught the pillow with a laugh. “Jason and Danny, kissing in a tree—”

“Grayson, try to not be an embarrassment,” Damian said with a sigh.

“What? Jason and Danny could totally kiss in a tree. Danny can fly! I mean, not that we’ve seen it yet but he says he can,” Dick said.

“Oh he can. Nothing like walking into your little brother’s room to find him sitting on the ceiling,” Jazz said. “It was an interesting childhood.”

“It makes hanging things easy too,” Jason teased.

Danny sighed dramatically. “I knew you were just into me to be your glorified ladder.”

“That’s just because he wants to climb you,” Tim muttered absently.

Jason held up his hands for Dick to throw the pillow back to him and then lobbed it at Tim. It smacked Tim square in the face, making his little brother’s shoulders slump as it landed on his tablet.

“Really?”

“Don’t be crude,” Jason said.

Tim glared at Jason from under his bangs. The kid’s hair was getting long again. “Oh that’s rich coming from the Red Hood.”

“Red Hood?” Jazz’s voice cracked slightly.

Jason buried his face in his hands with a groan.

“Oh, shit, did she now know? I thought she knew!”

The whole couch shifted as Danny pulled himself up by Jason’s shirt so that he could cuddle him. “It’s okay, I love my hero.”

“Vigilante,” Jason mumbled.

“Daniel John Nightingale!” Jazz screeched. “Tell me you’re not doing vigilante stuff again!”

“Ooooooh full named!” Dick heckled.

“I am not doing vigilante stuff again,” Danny said.

“He’s really not,” Jason promised as he shifted Danny around to be more comfortable. “That’s just family business. I wouldn’t ask him to get involved.”

“Family…,” Jazz said. Jason watched her eyes dart from Danny to Jason to the rest of them. “Ancients you’re all, what would you call it? Various Batmen?”

“Usually we just go with Bats,” Tim said with a little shrug. “Especially since we’re not all, or only, men.”

“Okay, Bats,” Jazz said with a sigh. “Really, Danny?”

Danny shrugged, completely unrepentant by the way he smiled. “I didn’t know! I didn’t even know Jason was a Wayne until just before we started dating. That one is maybe on me though, I’m bad with faces.”

“You always have been,” Jazz said. “Really though, no hero stuff?”

“None. I’m focused on school. Well, and Jason. Dates are very nice, but mostly I’m focused on school. You can’t blame me for enjoying dates too!” Danny said.

Jazz laughed and shook her head. “No, I can’t. I’m glad you’re enjoying dates. Just try to stay out of the business, okay? I want you to be able to just enjoy your life. You have enough obligations waiting for you when you’re dead.”

“Do we have to work when we’re dead?” Tim asked desperately. “Please tell me we don’t have to work when we’re dead. That’s when I was planning to sleep.”

“No, Tim,” Jazz said gently. “Most people don’t work when they’re dead. Danny’s just an idiot—”

“Hey!”

“—who became the Ghost King without realizing what he was doing. His forever job starts when he dies.”

“Wait wait wait,” Dick spread his hands. “Danny is royalty?”

“Mhum.”

“Oh my god,” Dick said with a gleeful smile that Jason didn’t trust one bit. “Does that make Jason a prince? Queen? Does it feel like you’re in one of your regency books, Jay? What’s it like.”

Jason groaned and buried his face into Danny’s hair. “I hate you.”

“No you don’t,” Dick cooed.

“Oh good, Jason can work then,” Tim said. “I just want to sleep.”

“You can sleep now,” Jason pointed out. “No one is stopping you. Hell, Alfred would encourage it.”

“Can’t,” Tim said. “I’ve got to get this PR stuff done. Is this a diplomatic issue now too?”

“What can I answer to help?” Jazz asked in such a patently big sibling way that Jason glanced up to exchange a look with Dick. Having one more person after Tim to rest couldn’t hurt.

Tim pursed his lips. “We’ve already done the usual asking for respect during this difficult time. Babs and I have been working on making sure the part of the video where Danny asked Jason to press the button is in circulation and in the right hands. There have been some pointed emails sent. Bruce is going to go on tomorrow and give a brief statement— which we need some answers for. We’ve got Clark coming to interview in a few days to do a proper story. Luckily Vickie Val has made it easy for us to go out of Gotham for that story with how she’s been behaving.

“They’ve found out about your parents, of course, but we were able to respond instantly with your name change and, in all essence what was nearly emancipation with how quickly you did it and moved out. There are some character stories from old classmates though calling you odd but also defense from current ones that we’ve been pushing further up in the SEO. Between those details and his survival, it’s no wonder that the question of Danny being a meta is circling That’s the main thing we need to know how to address and if we want to play into it.”

Jason had to take a moment to respond to all that. He’d been so focused on helping Danny heal and stay happy that he hadn’t even thought half of that through. He knew the press were out there, of course they were, but… “You’ve really worked this out, haven’t you?”

Tim just blinked owlishly at him. “Of course I have. It’s what I do. I know you didn't like me looking into Danny when we first found out about you dating him, but… this is why I do those things. Not just to protect the family from other people, but to protect the people who get close to us. I can help direct the conversation because I know ahead of time that things like the Fentons will come up."

“Thank you Tim, really.”

“Um… you’re welcome,” Tim said before he looked back down at his tablet. “We do need to decide if we go the meta route at all. Would that cause issues with the Fentons? Do they also hate metas?”

“No,” Jazz said. “Well, they would basically look at superheroes to make sure they weren’t ghosts in disguise or possessed, but other than that they didn’t really mention metas. It was actually pretty much a non topic in our town with everything else.”

“But we’d have to be careful with what we say I can do or… well, they’ll clock me as a ghost. I’ve never wanted to find out what would happen then.”

“Is that why you didn’t want to go to a hospital?” Dick asked in that carefully gentle tone of his.

Danny shrugged. “That but more old fears. There used to be a group called the GIW that were government funded ghost hunters that had legal clearance, basically, to experiment and exterminate any ecto-entities. I really don’t want to be dissected like some classroom frog.”

“Vivisected,” Jazz corrected in such an absent way that it spoke of old arguments.

Jason clutched Danny closer to him.

“It’s okay. They never really were very above the board, it turned out, and when the power changed hands they lost their funding and just sort of disappeared.”

“But it doesn’t mean there fear did,” Dick summed up.

“We will look into them,” Damian said, standing. “To be certain that they are gone and no longer a threat to you or Todd. Drake, you will not be needed on this while you are in this sleep deprived state. I will seek Gordon’s help instead.”

“Hey! I can still—”

“Finish up asking us questions,” Jazz interrupted smoothly. “It wouldn’t be hard to spin Danny as a mild meta from the results of a lab accident.”

“Maybe even give a half truth,” Jason said. “He was electrocuted around some chemicals and he ended up with a mild resistance to it.”

“That could work,” Tim said, tapping away on his tablet. “Generally useless in day to day life other than cutting down on annoyances when wiring something but just enough to survive this sort of trap. Have Bruce throw in a joke about how Danny produces a lot of static electricity or something to lighten the mood.”

“And it would make it seem like Danny has a resistance, not a weakness, in case anyone tries something again,” Jason added.

“That would be nice. Being tased really, really sucks,” Danny whined.

Jason pressed a kiss to Danny’s temple. “I know, fish.”

“Yes, alright, Bruce will need to put it in his own Brucie wording but I think this will work,” Tim said with a little nod. “See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

---

AN: Rereading through this, this might just be the whole chapter. Maybe I'll make the interview it's own chapter to cut down on the shock of going to that style of pov and piece. And then the final* chapter? Thoughts thoughts...

Anyways, words are hard, brain is tired, here is Jazz!

You can subscribe to the masterpost here.

#dp x dc #dead on main #like betta fish do

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theemporium · 1 year

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[REQUESTS OPEN]

happy birthday to @upsidedownwithsteve!! this is a day late but we are gonna avoid that. enjoy some good ol’ danny ric smoot :) and we are gonna just pretend these are characters in drive to survive rather than real people💀ANYWAYS ENJOY!!

[6.7k] or, in which you and daniel have always hated each other. but maybe that’s just an excuse to avoid how you really feel about each other. (smut)

Daniel Ricciardo knew he was hot shit.

He was young. He was successful. He was loving life and his life just so happened to be his dream.

F1 Driver for Red Bull Racing.

Daniel Ricciardo was one of those faces that everybody knew at the paddock. He was fun and playful and had a smile so wide, it was infectious. He was sunshine personified, the human embodiment of positivity and truly it was hard to not get along with the Aussie.

Except when it came to you.

And it drove Daniel mad.

Daniel couldn’t even remember the first time you met, or even when the moment clicked that neither of you liked the other. It was just the way it had always been and everyone in the paddock knew that. The drivers knew it, the mechanics knew it, even the journalists knew it.

You and Daniel Ricciardo did not get along.

It was just a shame that you seemed to be best friends with everyone else on the grid except him. And maybe that was what pissed him off, maybe that was what made his jaw clench a little whenever he saw you laughing and walking down the pit lane with some of the other drivers.

Or maybe, deep down, Daniel was jealous.

He was fucking jealous he was not getting your attention, and he hated that when he did, all he got with snarky remarks and harsh glares. He didn’t get sweet, sunshine smiles or soft, lingering touches. He got the rough exterior, he got the six-foot walls you guarded yourself with and yet, despite everything, a part of him still wanted you.

It was inconceivably stupid but he couldn’t change it.

“Oi, practice starts in fifteen, get to the garage!”

“Alright, just coming!”

Headphones slipped over his ears and music pumping through, Daniel made his way towards the garages ahead of the first practice of the weekend. It was a new season, he was feeling good and testing had been brilliant for the team, for both him and Max. He was on a high, with his race suit tied around his waist and his fingers aimlessly tapping along surfaces as he passed, there was little that could damper his mood.

Until he saw you walking towards the McLaren garage, which was unfortunately situated beside the Red Bull garage, animatedly chatting away to Lando Norris with a wide smile on your face.

It wasn’t an unusual sight nor was it shocking, but that did nothing to fuel the bitter feeling in the pit of his stomach.

You worked for McLaren, starting a couple of years ago. You were a good friend of Lando Norris, having known him before you ever stepped foot into the world of motorsport. Talented and impressionable, it didn’t take long for the team at McLaren to snatch you up when they could. With a camera in your hands, you were a powerful force.

He had worked with you in his two unfortunate years at McLaren. He had seen what you were like with the people you worked with, he saw how much of a team player you were. It was just a courtesy that was never extended to him.

Even after he left, all you could offer him was a strained smile and a wish of good luck in his new team.

And yet, there you were laughing away at something the Brit said like it was the funniest thing you had ever heard.

Daniel wasn’t bitter, not at all.

“Danny Ric!” A familiar voice called out and it was hard to bite back the smile growing on his face.

“Lil Norris!”

He didn’t have much time before the younger driver was speeding towards him, his laugh already echoing through the paddock and the cameras around them picking up on the wholesome moment shared between the former teammates. But Daniel’s eyes were focused over Lando’s head, where you stood a few feet away now entranced by something on your phone instead of them.

“Not gonna even say hi, sunshine?” Daniel called out because maybe he was in fact a little shit, and maybe he enjoyed pushing your buttons too.

“Hi, Ricciardo,” you replied bluntly, with no hint of amusement or interest in your voice.

Lando only snickered in response.

“Thought the new season would brighten you up a little,” he continued. Some would argue Daniel didn’t really learn his lesson, nor did he know when to stop. But he knew exactly what he was doing. He was just playing the game, just as you were. He just wanted to make sure he ended up on top.

“You thought wrong,” you retorted and this time you lifted your head from your phone screen, sarcasm dripping from your words even when you flashed him a pretty smile. “But I guess that’s not unusual for you, is it, sunshine?”

Daniel’s eyes narrowed on you.

“It’s like nothing’s changed,” Lando remarked, staring between the two of you with an amused smile. He had gotten fairly used to this behaviour when Daniel was in McLaren, it was no surprise that it continued after he left.

You only rolled your eyes before focusing on the younger driver. “C’mon, I wanna take some photos before practice.”

“Trying to run away from me?” Daniel teased, prodding and poking because he just wanted a reaction—no, he needed a reaction from you.

“Always,” you stated bluntly as you tried to move past him, letting Lando catch up with you on his own time, but the Australian driver was quick to step in front of you.

He knew you couldn’t create a scene with all the cameras and journalists around you, and you knew that too. But that didn’t hide the irritation that flashed across your face as you tried to side step him, only for him to repeat the action.

“Are you done yet?” you retorted, hating the way your eyes lingered on his smile for a little too long.

“Hm, not yet,” he murmured as he glanced down at you, having a good few inches on you. He wasn’t even shy about his wandering eyes, the glint of mischief that could always be linked with Daniel Ricciardo. But being on the receiving end of said look made you shudder—whether it was in disgust or something deeper you didn’t wish to admit, that was a whole other story. “I’m enjoying the view.”

“Fuck you,” you sneered, nose scrunched up in annoyance as you shrugged the strap of your camera bag further up your shoulder.

“Begging now, are we, sunshine?” Daniel quipped back, a wide grin spread across his face and you hated how attractive he looked.

“Asshole,” you grumbled as you finally pushed past him, not even glancing back at the cocky driver or to see if the young Brit was following you. Your gaze was focused ahead on the papaya garage that was about thirty seconds away from where you were standing.

“You know, this whole thing you’ve got going on with her is cute and all, but it would just be easier to tell her you like her.”

Lando’s voice broke him out of his trance, his head snapping away from your retreating figure and instead turning towards his friend. It was always easy to get along with Lando, they were similar in so many manners and, in some ways over the two years they spent together, he had become like a little brother to Daniel. A younger version of himself even. He adored it most of the time.

But right now, he couldn’t help but scoff at the teasing, little shit Lando was.

“I don’t like her,” Daniel denied adamantly, squaring his shoulders back as he said so.

“You sure about that?” Lando snapped back, eyebrows raised in questioning. “Because you seem to flirt a whole lot with someone you supposedly don’t like.”

Daniel shook his head. “I just like messing with her, she’s easy to wind up.”

“So is Jimmy from engineering but you never fucked with him this much,” Lando said, snickering a little as he slapped his friend on the back a few times. “You’ve got the hots for her, admit it.”

“The hots?” Daniel’s nose scrunched up a little. “What are you? An eighties rom-com or something?”

“Stop denying it.”

“I’m denying fuck all,” Daniel said with an exasperated sigh. “I don’t like her. At all.”

Because he didn’t.

Was he attracted to you? Yes, the boy wasn’t fucking blind.

But he didn’t like you. He never has over the years and he never will. He just liked messing with you, playing the game only the two of you seemed to know. That’s all it was, Lando just needed to stop reading into it so much.

“You know that saying about little boys pulling on a girls’ pigtails to get attention?” Lando asked as he started to take a few steps back, knowing he only had a couple of minutes before he was meant to get into the car.

Daniel frowned. “Yeah?”

“You’re pulling on the pigtails, Danny, but that’s all you’re doing,” Lando grinned at his friend. “It’s only a matter of time before she kicks you to the side and chooses someone who can actually admit how they feel.”

He hated the way the young driver’s words stuck in his head.

As much as Daniel tried, Lando’s words never really left him and they were starting to get on his nerves.

The season had fully kicked off, Daniel had a brilliant start with ending up in the top five for every race so far and yet, he couldn’t even fully enjoy it with Lando’s knowing glances and smug smiles hovering around every corner.

And every time he saw you, it was like he was suddenly hyper aware of everything and anything around him, he was picking up on stuff he never usually cared about and it was getting to him, slowly but surely.

Australia was the first bump in the road.

It was a Thursday—media day. Everything was just kicking off, the sun was shining and the crowd were as loud and vibrant as they always were for the Australian driver. He was in a good mood, it was hard for him to feel down in his home country with so many adoring fans supporting him through every minute of the weekend.

He had made it into the paddock, a big smile on his face and a laugh that seemed infectious to those around him.

And then he saw it.

He didn’t recognise the man, but he saw the Ferrari logo on his shirt and he knew that fire red shirt could belong to no other team. He watched as the man smiled at you, how your attention was never drawn away from him. He saw how the man placed a hand on the small of your back as you made your way towards the motorhomes, how you didn’t even glance in his direction as you followed the Ferrari man and chatted idly away to him.

Daniel felt something quite like bitterness settling into the pit of his stomach.

It was quickly followed by the Imola Grand Prix over two weeks later.

It wasn’t unusual for drivers to grab breakfast together, or any other meals, especially since most of them stayed in the same hotel for the race weekends. And knowing that they would have to get up early to get to the paddock for a long day, the drivers and team members alike usually took over the hotel restaurant in the mornings.

Today was no different.

Daniel had made his way down to the restaurant for breakfast, feeling a little more sluggish than usual after a less-than-adequate sleep. He was restless and on edge, and he didn’t quite know why. But a meal shared with his friends was something he needed right now, and it was why he gave his usual greetings but made a beeline towards one of the tables hidden away in the corner where Max and Lando were sat.

“You look like you’ve been hit by a truck.”

Daniel shot the Dutchman a look. “Thanks. Just what a guy wants to hear in the morning.”

“Someone’s grumpy,” Lando muttered from beside him, stabbing into the fruit bowl that he was undoubtedly forced to eat on race weekends as a part of his breakfast.

“Just had a shit sleep,” Daniel mumbled under his breath as he flashed the waitress a polite but strained smile as she placed his plate before him. “That’s all.”

And yet somehow, like it was some fucking cheesy movie scene, he heard your laugh and it felt almost instinctive for his head to snap in the direction of the sound.

It was easy to spot your bright orange shirt in the sea of red. You were sitting amongst a large group of Ferrari team members, laughing away and looking like you were friends sharing a meal rather than rivalling teams in a competitive sport. Daniel noted Charles and Carlos at the table and a few other faces he recognised, but the one that stood out like a sore thumb was the Ferrari man at your side that he saw you with in Australia.

“Yeah,” Max scoffed from across the table. “Just a shit sleep.”

Daniel didn’t even respond to him. “Since when is she best mates with the Ferrari team?”

“She always has been,” Lando said with a shrug of his shoulders. “Guess she got to know them when Carlos moved.”

Daniel’s frown deepened.

Max’s eyes shone with childish delight. “Oh, you have a crush on her.”

“I do not!”

“He so does!”

Daniel’s eyes narrowed on Lando who only flashed him an innocent grin before he turned back to Max. “I do not have a crush on her. I just think it’s weird.”

Max looked amused. “Why?”

“You just don’t see many team members who are friends with so many other rivalling teams,” Daniel stated simply as though it was a fact, as though it was the only reason he felt like he wanted to go back to bed and start the day all over again despite it only being an hour or so since he had woken up. “It’s wrong.”

“You don’t seem to feel that way when she visits the Red Bull garage,” Max pointed out with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“Do you two ever just…shut up?” Daniel grumbled, eyes lingering on you for a few seconds too long before his eyes shifted down to his food, promptly ignoring the snickers of both drivers beside him. “Fucking youths.”

“Never thought I’d see the day Daniel Ricciardo got pissy over a crush,” Max commented which only made Lando laugh harder.

“Zip it, Verstappen.”

Then it was in Miami.

It was the night after the race. The air was still warm and thick, the celebrations hadn’t really stopped and Red Bull were on a high with their grand 1-2 finish. The music was bumping so loud that you could hear it from down the street, the club was full of familiar faces and close friends alike. Daniel was riding a high for a season that finally felt like was going good for him–something he hadn’t felt in a long time.

He almost hated how quickly he noted your absence.

It wasn’t until a few drinks later that he saw a familiar head of curls bouncing away by the DJ booth. With one hand firmly wrapped around the neck of his beer bottle, Daniel pushed his way through the crowd—smiling as people slapped his back and congratulated him on the win—before he finally made it to the other side of the club.

He didn’t even pretend with formalities as he leaned closer to his friend, only one thing racking about in his head.

“Where is she?”

Lando’s eyebrows furrowed for a second before realisation dawned on him. “Missing your girl, lover boy?”

Daniel shot him a look. “Where is she?”

But this time Lando just shrugged, looking a bit sheepish as he replied. “I don’t know, I think she said she was catching dinner with a friend or something.”

“A friend? Who?”

The Ferrari man from a few weekends ago popped into his head. It did not settle the bitterness in his stomach.

“I don’t know, mate,” Lando huffed out, letting out an exasperated sigh. “I didn’t ask because I am not a nosy shit.” The Brit stared at him for a few moments before adding. “You know, you seem to care a whole lot about her when you claim you don’t like her.”

Daniel scoffed. “Shut up, I was just curious.”

“You just landed a podium, mate, and instead of celebrating at your own party, you’re moping around,” Lando pointed out as though Daniel wasn’t highly aware of how pathetic it must have seemed from an outside perspective. “I think you should—”

But Daniel was already disappearing into the crowd before he could finish.

“Bye Lando!”

Then Monaco arrived on the season calendar.

The Monaco Grand Prix was always a big event. It was a historical and prestigious race, it was a fan favourite and it was the race that every driver dreamed of winning, even if they wouldn’t necessarily admit it. He remembered his win in Monaco like it was yesterday, he remembered the thrill and adrenaline pumping through his body as he crossed the line. He remembered it like a dream.

In between the galas and the events and the media duties, Daniel was buzzing to race again that Sunday. And following strong practices and a brilliant qualifying, he felt confident as he got in the car on that sunny Sunday morning.

Though he may be partially biassed, crossing the line to secure the win for the Monaco Grand Prix for the second time in his life definitely triumphed the first.

It was his proof, his evidence. It was his massive middle finger to those who said he was washed up and done for, it was his massive middle finger to those who judged him for his return to Red Bull. It was Daniel’s way of proving that he was still here, he was still kicking ass and he didn’t plan on stopping anytime soon.

With Max on one side and Charles on the other, Daniel let himself stand on the top podium with his arms stretched out and his cheeks hurting with how wide he was smiling. But he didn’t care, he felt like he was on top of the world and he could do anything in that moment.

And when he stood on the edge of the pool, Max cheering from somewhere behind him with the rest of the Red Bull team, Daniel didn’t think a single thing could make this day better.

So, it was really no surprise when the drivers had dragged him out of his apartment to celebrate his win (not that he needed much convincing).

And it was no surprise that the majority of the Formula One world were out that night in Monaco, drowning in the luxuries and highs the country had to offer in being such a pinnacle stop on the map for the season.

And it was no fucking surprise that Daniel saw you in the club, dressed in a little black dress that was simple and nothing special, but dear god, it was so different to the bright orange shirt you usually wore that he wasn’t sure what to do with himself.

He was staring. He was well aware he was staring, and the elbow digging into his side courtesy of a certain Dutch driver also told him he was staring. But he couldn’t bring himself to look away. Not after the first drink, not after the second and certainly not after any of the others.

You sat by the bar, legs crossed over, looking so pretty as you leaned against the counter, lips wrapped around the straw of whatever fruity cocktail you were drinking and your head tilted in faux-interest as you listened to whatever the man beside you was saying.

“For fuck’s sake, man, just go up to her!” Max yelled from his side, one arm thrown across his shoulder to stop the drunk man from stumbling too much. “You are taking the piss now!”

“I am not taking advice from you,” Daniel yelled back, but his eyes never left you. “You’re, like, twelve!”

“Go!” Max said and pointed towards the bar, to where the man leaned closer to you with his hand resting on your knee. “Or he’ll get her first.”

Daniel had all but ceremoniously pushed the Dutchman to the side as he shoved through the throng of dancing strangers, his eyes focused on the bar. He didn’t think twice about his actions, and maybe if he was two drinks more sober, he would have gone about it a whole different way, but drunk Daniel was his own person with his own mouth and, apparently, his own fucking attitude.

“Piss off, mate,” he said to the man across from you as he settled into your side, standing beside the stool you sat on with his arm leaning against the counter just behind you. In his drunken haze, he half-managed to identify the man across from you as the Ferrari man he had seen around the paddock.

The man’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What?”

“Piss. Off.” Daniel stated a lot more bluntly, the usual cheeriness to his voice was nowhere to be found. Instead, his darkened gaze met the man’s and his face remained fairly blank. “Do I need to repeat myself?”

You looked at him, a little surprised. “Daniel–”

The man puffed out his chest. “We are having a conversation.”

You turned to the man this time. “Jack–”

“Listen to the lady, James,” Daniel said, and this time there was a smug grin on his face. “Fuck off.”

It wasn’t until you shot Jack a look that he finally backed off, his hands raised in mock defeat and somewhat of a glare sent in the direction of the Australian driver, but he didn’t seem to care. Instead, Daniel waved him a mocking solute, watching the Ferrari worker get lost in the crowd at the club.

Only then did he turn to look at you, grinning when he saw the angry pout on your lips.

“What the fuck was that about, Daniel?” You spat at him, a little tipsy yourself and really fucking confused at the driver’s sudden behaviour.

“You’re cute when you’re angry,” he stated, completely disregarding the question you had just asked him. “Kinda hot, to be honest.”

Your eyes narrowed on him. “You’re an asshole.”

“Any other names you wanna call me?” Daniel teased like you were two friends bantering, like he hadn’t just stormed over and sent another man away. Like he was in any right to act the way he did.

“Yeah, you’re a prick,” you said as your finger poked his chest as aggressively as one could when they were three pornstar martinis deep. “An entitled, arrogant, cocky prick who thinks he can do whatever the fuck he wants.”

“Don’t stop,” he murmured, hooded eyes focused on your lips, glossy and pouty and he could bet his bottom dollar that you tasted like the mango lip balm he would always see you putting on.

“And you are just so full of it!” you huffed out as you turned in your stool to face him, not even noticing the way Daniel stood between your legs to get a little closer. “Just walking about with your head up your own arse!”

“Keep going, sunshine,” Daniel urged, so close to you that he could smell your perfume, the hints of vanilla and something floral he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He hated how much he fucking loved that smell.

“And you just walk around like you own the place just because you flash everyone that stupid pretty smile and I am sick of it,” you affronted with your hand now promptly splayed over his chest, your fingers teasing the buttons of his shirt and his grip on your wrist keeping the contact between you two.

“You think I’m pretty?” Daniel spoke up, his voice was low and husky and you shouldn’t have been able to hear him. But only then it seemed to click to you now how close he was, his nose almost brushing yours and your bodies almost completely pressed together. You didn’t want him to move away.

“Infuriatingly so,” you grumbled under your breath, eyes fluttering shut when you felt his lips brush against yours.

“Well, sunshine, I think you’re fucking gorgeous,” Daniel whispered against your lips, his warm breath tickling your skin. “And I think that every man in this club knows that too. But you know what?”

You swallowed. “What?”

“I think they can look as much as they fucking want,” he said to you, so sure and certain and confident in his words. “But they can’t fucking touch.”

You could feel your heart thumping wildly in your chest. “They can’t?”

“No, sunshine, they can’t,” he said, his free hand fitting itself against your jaw, fingers dancing along the side of your cheek and dangerously close to your lips. “I don’t let people touch what’s mine.”

You almost scoffed. “And I’m yours, Ricciardo?”

“Come with me and I’ll show you just who you belong to.”

“I’m not an object.”

His lips twitched. “Baby, if you want me to get on my knees and tell you that I belong to you too, you just have to say.”

Your cheeks flushed, your hand fisting the material of his shirt. “Stay on your two feet, Ricciardo.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

There was a pulse in the air, a brief pause in the world where the music stopped and everything froze and it was just the two of you. Lando’s words pissed him off because he was right. Because Daniel did like you, he had liked you since the first day he met you and it just infuriated him that you weren’t as simple to woo as other girls were.

But that just made him crave you more.

And you know, no matter what you told yourself or even told Lando on the countless nights he would tease you, that you were attracted to Daniel Ricciardo. That no matter how much you told yourself you hated him, that he was the asshole you had made him out to be in your head, that you fucking fell for that stupid smile and that stupid face and that goddamn stupid accent.

You fell for him even when you weren’t supposed to.

Neither of you were sure who leaned in first. If it was Daniel or you or some weird mix of the both of you gravitating towards each other. Your lips met his, the music was pumping through the speakers of the clubs so loud that you could feel the bass in your teeth and suddenly you felt the need to get out of there, to feel the cold night air of Monaco against your skin and somewhere away from everyone else.

Mumbled words and whispered promises were shared before you finally pushed him back, empty glasses left on the bar counter and your hands intertwined as you quickly made your way towards the exit.

It was a blur to his apartment.

Climbing into the back of the taxi, his hands all over you and his head ducked into the crook of your neck. The words he whispered in your ear and the way he seemed to paint a million different stories on what he wanted to do with you. You vaguely remembered Daniel handing the driver the cash for the ride, a heavy tip added on top before he pulled you towards his apartment complex.

You barely had a moment to take anything in with his body pressed against your back after he placed the keys of his apartment in your hands, telling you to unlock the door as his fingers pulled the fabric of your dress higher up your thighs.

It took an embarrassingly long time to finally get inside the apartment.

Heels and shoes kicked to the side by the door. The buttons of his shirt being undone and pushed off his shoulders until it hit the floor. The back of his knees hitting the bed until he was seated on the edge, you standing between his legs and his hands working on unzipping your dress until it fell to the floor.

“Fuck,” he muttered as his hands ran up the expanse of your thighs, squeezing the flesh and tugging you closer so he could press soft, feather-light kisses along your stomach.

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” you told him as your fingers ran through his curls, tugging his head back so he was looking up at you.

“Demanding,” Daniel retorted with a smile as his hands dropped to the button on his trousers, quickly shrugging them off until he was left in his boxers, thigh tatted thighs on display. “You’re staring, sunshine.”

“I’m admiring,” you corrected, hooded eyes focused on his legs rather than his smirking face.

“C’mon,” he murmured as he pulled you closer, guiding you until you were straddling his lap, but quickly manoeuvring you onto his thigh with an ease you could only admire. “Show me how much you like ‘em.”

Your breath hitched. “I–”

“Don’t get shy on me now, sunshine,” Daniel said with a wolfish grin on his face. “Wanna get wild with you.”

Your cheeks flushed.

“Put on a lil’ show for me, baby,” he whispered with one hand on your waist, the other cradling your face so you couldn’t look away from him. “Then I’m gonna fuck you until you forget that little fucker’s name.”

You frowned. “Jack?”

“Don’t,” he gruffed out, his fingers digging into your cheeks. “Don’t say his fucking name. I don’t care what he is to you or who–”

“He’s just a friend,” you muttered quickly, his hand on your waist guiding you against his thigh. Your breath got caught in your throat as your clothed clit brushed against his muscular thigh. “J-Just a friend.”

“Just a friend?” he mocked, watching as your lips parted in a silent scream. “Just a friend who wants to fuck you like I’m gonna fuck you?”

“I don’t–” your hands darted out to grip his shoulder, your hips rolling against his thigh. “I was never gonna–”

“Oh, I know, sunshine,” he cooed as he brought you into a bruising kiss, your moans muffled by his lips as you felt the coil in your stomach tightening. “I know he can’t make you feel half as good.”

“So arrogant,” you muttered between broken whines as your head fell to rest on his shoulder. Unable to deal with the growing pleasure, you bit down on his shoulder, his whispered praises washing over you as your orgasm washed over you.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured, pressing a kiss on the crown of your head.

“Danny,” you whimpered into his shoulder, muscles relaxed and body slumped against his.

“That’s my name, baby, gonna get used to saying it a lot more tonight,” he said with that pretty smile.

For a moment, you thought that was going to be what ended you.

For a moment, you honestly didn’t mind if that was the way you went.

You could feel his lips all over you.

Along your collarbone and shoulders as he pushed the straps of your bra down. Down the valley of your chest as the undergarment was thrown somewhere else in the room. Along the plane of your stomach as his tattooed fingers worked on pulling the matching panties down your leg.

You didn’t have it within you to stop him when the head of curls ducked between your legs, teasing your sensitive cunt to the point you were so sure your heart would fucking stop.

But then his face was just above you again, his movements were soft and gentle as he cradled your face and kissed you. His boxers were long enough and his hard cock was free, and big, and fuck, it was kind of hard not to stare.

“Danny,” you whimpered with a neediness he couldn’t help but grin at you. He liked you when you begged, when you clung onto his arms and looked at him like he was the only one who could give you the world.

He liked it a lot.

“Patience, sunshine,” he whispered against your lips, his body covering yours and the head of his cock teasing your cunt. “Gotta make sure you’re ready f’me.”

Your eyes were wet and glossy by the time he was finished with you. His fingers stretching you out, your nails digging into his biceps and his name leaving your lips in a hushed mantra as you begged for him, as you begged for his cock. And only then did Daniel finally slide into you.

Someone could have told you that you had spent days in between the sheets with Daniel and you would have believed them. Whenever you thought you were done, Daniel was kissing you sweetly and whispering “just one more, sunshine”, and you didn’t have it within you to say no to him.

Whether it was with you sprawled on his king size bed, lips and teeth clashing in a messy kiss as he thrusted at a pace only an athlete with his stamina could achieve. Whether it was with your face pressed into the pillows, his hands on your ass and filthy words leaving his mouth. Whether it was with your legs thrown over his shoulders, his hands pinning your hips to the bed as he lazily lapped at you soaking, sensitive cunt until you were crying.

Daniel Ricciardo was insatiable and you fucking loved it.

And yet, when he woke up the next morning—though it was closer to the afternoon—the sheets were crumpled and empty, your clothes were gone and the only proof he had that the night had even happened was the faint scent of your perfume on his pillow.

You had fucking ran off before he woke up.

Daniel would be lying if he said he wasn’t hurt by your actions.

At first, he tried to rationalise it.

It was a sudden shift in your relationship. The two of you had been so used to spending the years at each other’s throats, that rolling around in the sheets would be a big change for anyone. Maybe you just needed a day or two to wrap your head around it, maybe you just needed some time to think things through.

But the days passed and the next thing he knew, it was the weekend of the Baku Grand Prix.

Daniel felt a buzz in his veins as he entered the paddock, ready to see you again after weeks of nothing. All he had were the vague updates Lando would give, but those weren’t enough for him. Those updates and the memories of your shared night together could only sedate so much before he needed to see you.

He didn’t see you on Thursday. He couldn’t even catch a glimpse of you on Friday. He actively went to the McLaren garage on Saturday in hopes of seeing you. And by the time the race had come and gone on Sunday, the paddock and teams were packed up and moving to the next race.

The same routine followed in Canada and Silverstone. You were avoiding him and whatever feelings he had before slowly became anger. If you wanted to pretend it never happened, that was fine by him and he could respect that.

But avoid him completely? Daniel wasn’t having that.

It wasn’t until the Austrian Grand Prix came around—home of the Red Bull Ring—that he finally managed to catch you.

Well, kind of.

The moping and grumpy moods had become too much for Max and he couldn’t stand it anymore. A little bit of wine and Daniel was spilling his sorrows to the Dutchman, who then took it upon himself to concoct a plan.

It was honestly surprising that anything planned by Max and Lando had managed to work if anyone was being honest (and in years to come, they would continue to boast about so), but maybe that was also to do with the fact you were too cautious on avoiding Daniel to notice the glint in Lando’s eyes and Daniel was too mopey to see the grin on Max’s face.

But it all came to play the second you found yourself in Lando’s driver room, not even having a second to process the Australian already in the room before the door was locked behind you.

“TALK ABOUT YOUR FEELINGS OR WHATEVER IT IS THAT IS MAKING YOU BOTH SO WHINGEY!”

“OR JUST MAKE OUT AND GET IT OVER AND DONE WITH!”

“NOT IN MY ROOM!”

You stared at the door for a moment, listening to the snickers and the retreating footsteps on the other side before you turned to face Daniel, a somewhat sheepish expression on your face.

“Hi,” was all you could manage to say.

“Hey,” he replied, but it was blunt and lacked any real enthusiasm. Because whilst he was thrilled to see you, to be close enough to reach out and touch you, the lingering anger he had felt over the last few weeks was still there.

The silence was suffocating as you just stared at each other, neither one wanting to make the first move. You were almost shocked when he was the first to speak up.

“Why did you do it?”

You looked at him, lips pressed together as you tried to come up with a response. You could have lied, you could have said a million different things that would have gotten you out of this situation but only the truth managed to slip out in a quiet voice.

“I was scared,” you told him, watching as his blank persona dropped and a mixed look of confusion and concern crossed his face.

“Scared?” he repeated, almost like he wasn’t sure he had heard you right. “Scared of what?”

You didn’t say anything.

“Talk to me, sunshine,” he whispered, his voice slightly pleading and the nickname you had craved to hear over the last few weeks was what finally broke you.

“I was scared by how much I liked it, okay?” you said as you let out a shuddering breath. “I…I should hate you! I did hate you, or at least I thought I did and then that night…”

“That night?” Daniel prompted, risking to take a step closer to you.

“It was so easy,” you whispered, your voice a little shaky and he didn’t think he had ever seen you look so…vulnerable before. “It was so easy to be with you, to kiss you. It was easy and it was nice and…”

“It scared you that you didn’t hate me,” he finished for you and all you could do was nod.

Daniel closed the remaining distance between you and you didn’t fight him when his hands came up to cradle your face, both palms warm against your cheeks and those big brown eyes of his staring at you with an unreadable emotion.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, tongue darting out to lick your lips and his eyes watched the movement closely.

“Give this a chance,” he whispered to you, a slight shake to his words like his nerves were shining through but the confidence he held in his gaze remained. “Give us a chance. You said it yourself, it was easy. I wanna make it work.”

“Danny–”

“Just promise me you won’t run away, sunshine,” he murmured, his nose brushing against yours and he felt something like pride bloom in his chest when he saw your lips twitch a little. “Just want you to talk to me, that’s all. Just…give me a chance to prove how easy this can be.”

You let out a shaky breath. “You’re still arrogant.”

His lips broke out into a grin. “I know.”

“And cocky,” you murmured as you felt his lips ghosting yours, almost touching but just not enough. “And a real pain in my ass–”

“And I can’t wait for you to remind me every day, sunshine,” he grinned before he kissed you. A long overdue kiss that left you breathless and flustered and your cheeks tinted pink.

Yeah, it was easy for you to spend years hating Daniel Ricciardo.

But it was also damn easy to fall in love with him too.

#daniel ricciardo #dr3 #formula one #f1 #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo x y/n #daniel ricciardo fic #daniel ricciardo smut #formula one x reader #formula one x you #formula one x y/n #formula one fic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 fic #f1 smut

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impyssadobsessions · 2 years

Note

DP x DC big brother au

Where Danny is a child prodigy of the League of assassins on his way to his first mission. Around that time Damian (who is Danny's replacement/ bodyguard) is like, below 5 y/o and not doing too well, too soft they say. They plan to kill him, so Danny thinks if they didn't have their prodigy heir then they HAVE to keep Damian alive as their next kin. So he did, he staged his own death and sob story his way into an orphanage where the Fenton's take him.

Years later, on a quiet night or when he's patching up his own wounds, sometimes he wonders how his little Dami is doing. If he is still as soft and attention hungry as he use to.

Or if they killed the child inside him and turn him into someone he fears.

Awww yes~ I would love to see something like this. Just Danny curious about Damian. Wonder how he would meet him then. Just probably circumstances that causes Danny to end up in gotham... OH OR WHAT IF... Danny's identity gets revealed and it goes viral after a fight. Danny has to hide because GIW and now league.. but also someone else caught wind. Damian seeing it from watching Tim showing the video to someone else. Damian's breath hitches. Maybe he feel bitter about being left behind, about his brother leaving him.. Same time he wants to confront him, make sure its him. Thus turns into a three way if not four/five track down of Danny Phantom. Fenton parents either helping Jazz, Sam, n Tuck. Or they're all HE TOOK OVER OUR SON. Maybe Vlad too. LOL my brain went brrrr for a moment. But this could just be simple, Danny gets job in arkham asylum and runs into Dami. Damian confronting him later.. or maybe giving him a cold shoulder at first. But melts because Danny still treats him the same.. and then finally pesters an answer as to why Danny left. Danny saying that he wanted Dami to live. LOL funny if dick gets a little jealous of danny able to step in and just make dami grin. =w= big brother rivalry. Same time both like happy to have each other looking out for their sibling. Plus can't hate another man that loves puns =w=b Dick tries to big brother Danny too. Danny just so happy to see his brother.. but same time super secretive about his past. Damian upset and pries into it. Eventually finding out Danny, despite successfully leaving the league still ended up dealing with life n death. Danny not wanting pity or dami to worry always brushes it off but its more obvious as days go by that his past bothers him more than he says it does.

#danny fenton #danny phantom #dp x dc #batman #damian wayne #big brother au #batfam #asks

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toast-tales · 2 months

Text

Cursed Cravings, Chapter 2: Strange Hospitality

In which we return to the present day, where Danny finds a strange mansion in the woods while searching for her friend. Contains: ~2.8k words | Chapter 1 | Read this story on A03!

The weather was not kind to Danny as she trudged through the woods, each footstep falling heavy and laboriously through the snow as she marched onward, fueled by a bitter spite towards whatever entity had decided she would not have an easy journey.

She couldn’t give up. The horse that Nathan had taken out of town this morning had returned, frightened and skittish, without him. It had taken all morning to calm it down enough to take out again. They had been traveling for so long that Danny had to walk beside it now, giving the poor horse a rest while he carried the meager supplies she’d scraped together at the last minute.

She tried to follow the path Nathan should have taken towards the next town, keeping a vigilant eye out for any danger. All of his things had still been in the horse’s saddlebags, so it couldn’t have been bandits, right? Had the horse been spooked by a wild animal? Had they simply gotten separated? He would walk back the way he’d come if that was the case, wouldn’t he?

He’d look for shelter, or for someone to help. Maybe there’s a home somewhere along the way.

Surely he’s alright. He has to be.

But Danny had traveled all day, and hadn’t seen a sign of Nathan anywhere on the road. No one she’d passed had seen anyone matching her description of Nathan, either, which only made her more and more anxious. The sun began to dip near the horizon, and the encroaching darkness brought with it a fresh wave of anxiety. She couldn’t turn back, not without Nathan. She had to find him.

“NATHAN!” she called out, desperately, hopelessly. She couldn’t just yell his name out here in the middle of nowhere and expect a response. She did it anyway. “NATE!”

“Hello? Are you okay?”

She stopped in her tracks abruptly, so surprised by the voice that she almost didn’t realize she’d heard one in the first place. It wasn’t Nathan—and she couldn’t quite place where it had come from. She whipped her head this way and that, but all she could see immediately were snow-covered trees.

“Where are you?” she called out, against her better judgment. Strangers in the woods were usually things you tried to avoid, but she was desperate—she had to take her chances with anyone who could help her find her friend.

She followed the voice’s direction a little further down the path, and to her left, hidden well amongst the trees and the snow, she finally saw it—a huge mansion surrounded by a large, iron gate, obviously the home of someone who was very rich and important. This far out in the woods, though? She supposed some of them must have homes out in the country for when they got bored of city life.

The voice from earlier came again, but she still couldn’t see who its owner was. “You seem lost. Are you okay?”

Oddly, she couldn’t tell if the voice even belonged to a man or a woman, not without a face to go with it. Even so, it sounded young, and…fairly trustworthy, or at least, feigning a genuine enough concern.

“I’m…I’m looking for a friend. He was traveling this way earlier today…his name is Nathan Hayes. Have you seen anyone, by chance?”

The voice didn’t reply for a moment. Danny moved closer to the gate, cautiously, searching the mansion’s grounds for anyone who could have spoken to her. And then, she watched in wonder as the gate swung open—almost of its own accord.

…maybe the wind blew it open?

“I think I can help you find your friend. Would you like to come inside?”

There was absolutely no way in hell this wasn’t the same kind of setup as every nightmarish fairy tale Nathan had ever told her—getting lost in the woods, wandering into some strange house, and then getting eaten by a witch or chased by bears or cursed by some fairy queen.

She glared at the gate with a very heavy dose of suspicion. “What makes you say that, huh? How can you help me find him?”

Another pause. “Because I’ve seen him. Curly brown hair, freckles, green shirt, right?”

Danny felt her heart drop into her stomach. “T-that’s him! You’ve seen him? Where? When? And…where are you? Why can’t I see you?”

“I’m inside,” the voice simply said—which frankly should have been a lie, because the front door to the mansion was pretty far down the path, and this voice was as clear as if it was right next to her. Danny, unfortunately, didn’t have a better explanation to refute the claim. “I can explain more if you come in? It’s getting late—you shouldn’t travel at night. It’s dangerous.”

I can’t argue with that, she thought sullenly. Though it’s just as dangerous to trust strangers like you. There was no doubt, though, that this person—whoever they were—had seen Nathan, at least. Danny had no choice—she needed to accept whatever help this person had to offer, no matter how strange. She had nothing else to go on.

She took a deep breath and made her way to the opened gate, pulling her horse along.

The horse stopped before the gate, kicking up his hooves and letting out a frightened whinny, refusing to go any further towards the house.

“Hey, hey! It’s okay, Buddy! It’s okay.” Danny tried to soothe him, but it was useless—no amount of coaxing was going to get the horse to calm down, it seemed. She didn’t know what had gotten him so worked up—but it certainly didn’t make her feel any better about listening to the strange voice.

I don’t have a choice. I have to find Nathan.

She tied Buddy’s reins to the fencepost—lest he run off again and leave her stranded in the woods as well—before heading down the path alone.

The grounds of this mansion, now that she could get a closer look, seemed to be well-maintained. A fountain sat a short ways down, the water frozen over it in an icy, solid waterfall. Hedges lined the yard, covered in a heavy layer of snow. There were even what appeared to be topiary animals here and there.

Rich people really do have the weirdest hobbies.

She finally reached the mansion itself—a hulking, obscenely elaborate building of dark stone and sharp, twisted spires, like a grand cathedral instead of a place someone actually lived in. Ivy crawled up the edges of the worn brick, giving the whole place the feeling of being terribly old.

Danny had never been afforded many luxuries in life—the modest house on their farm was a luxury in and of itself. This was far beyond her understanding of how any normal person could live. How much money did a place like this even cost?

She took a few more cautious steps towards the huge front doors, which loomed before her in all their ornate beauty. There were patterns carved into the wood, elaborate etchings that curled their way all the way down and around a pair of huge, equally elaborate brass door knockers.

A shiver ran down her spine, but she wrote it off as a gust of winter wind that snapped at her then, rustling her traveling cloak in its wake.

She reached out for one of the door knockers, but before her hand could touch it, the door opened wide towards her.

It was dark inside of the house—too dark to see much besides some sort of entryway awaiting her, and what looked like a grand staircase further in. She didn’t see anyone on the other side, strangely.

“Hello?” she called out, waiting on the porch for an answer.

“Come in,” the voice insisted, friendly and bright. “Sorry it’s a little dark, I’ll get things lit up for you.”

The voice seemed to have floated further inside the house, and so, with one last, decisive breath, she decided to follow it, and stepped over the threshold.

And immediately, she fell flat on her face.

Something had rushed to her head almost immediately that had caused such a spell of sudden dizziness—almost a vertigo of some sort, like she’d fallen from some great height instead of just walking into a house. The split-second flash of memory she had retained from before the fall was quickly brushed away, written off as the ridiculous concoction of a brain that didn’t have the capability to walk in a straight line.

She quickly rose to her feet in shame, straightening her cloak and looking around for anyone who would have beared witness to her fall.

Suddenly, though, embarrassment was the least of her concerns.

This was not the same house she’d seen from outside the open door—the tiles below her were the same, the entryway stood before her, yes, but the problem was that everything was built for a fucking giant.

The edge of the floor tile she was on now stretched on—it had been small enough to step over in one stride, and now it seemed to be as wide as her whole house. The ceiling rose above her, taller than a grand cathedral, much taller than the outside of the building suggested. She thought that a mountain could fit within this space comfortably, and the more she looked up, the dizzier she became. She tried to avert her eyes to something that made sense, but everywhere she looked brought an even further sense of terror. Everything, every chair, every window, every door frame and odd object scattered about seemed to be designed for someone easily a hundred feet tall, maybe more.

She found that she had frozen in place, and as she looked behind her frantically, as if to catch a glimpse of the outside world to see if she was in a crazy dream or not, she saw the door—now rising so far above her that it would have been an impossible feat to reach the door knocker from before—closed shut on its own.

As if to fight against the sudden lack of air in her lungs, she took in a forceful inhale of breath—though what to do with it, she hadn’t decided. Screaming didn’t seem productive, not yet, and she wasn’t sure whether she was angry at having been deceived, or simply awestruck at whatever magic she’d stumbled into.

“Hey, hey! Don’t panic.”

“I am NOT panicking,” Danny gasped, almost sounding offended at the notion as she did her best to stifle the hysteria rising in her throat.

She still didn’t see anyone nearby—which, frankly, maybe she should be thankful for. Oddly, the strange voice didn’t seem to come from high above her, as she imagined it might have if it had belonged to a giant. It almost sounded as if it came from right beside her, like there was another person standing just to her right—but there was nothing, except for a huge, stone vase next to the door that held a bouquet of flowers that rose higher above her than any tree she’d ever seen.

“It’s okay. I know it’s…a little weird.”

“A-a little weird? You’ve got to be fucking with me,” Danny muttered, her eyes still casting about the room as though it might make sense the longer she took it all in. “What kind of crazy-ass house is this?”

“It was built about three hundred years ago, and takes some influence from Baroque design-”

“I’m talking about the GIANT FUCKING EVERYTHING,” Danny blurted out, waving her arms around as if maybe the owner of the voice needed help seeing what she did. “How the fuck is this possible?”

“Uh…magic?” the voice supplied, semi-helpfully.

Danny sighed, relinquishing the breath they’d taken in a weary, frazzled exhale. They couldn’t argue with that.

She gasped as a series of lamps far above her along the walls lit themselves up along the inside of the room, illuminating the space even more. She’d almost not noticed it from her vantage point earlier, but there was a gigantic staircase a ways ahead of her in the middle of the room, made of dark wood with a red fabric runner going down its length and spilling out onto the floor at the bottom. It rose up to the second level of the house, its railings intricately carved and oiled, with enormous wooden birds of a species she didn’t recognize adorning the bottom of the railing like perched gargoyles. A huge chandelier lit up directly above her as well, dripping with fine crystal far above like the stars in the sky had formed into one dazzling constellation.

She stared in awe, a little of the initial shock making way for what might have been amazement. It truly was grand, and far fancier than anything she’d ever seen before. If only she didn’t have to crane her neck to actually see half of it—and if only she wasn’t also given the new and rather unwelcome perspective of what a bug might see before it was unceremoniously crushed under someone’s heel.

“It’s a real nice place, isn’t it?”

The voice no longer came from her right, but from her other side—though, unsurprisingly at this point, there was nothing there but a small (relative to the house, not to her) table.

“Y-yeah, it’s uh, it’s pretty fancy,” she relented, trying to settle her frantic heartbeat with what she’d come here for in the first place. “So, can you tell me what you know about Nathan? Do you know if he’s okay? Where are you?” She wondered if she would have to go wandering in this giant house—if this strange person was up the stairs or on the far side of the house, it could easily be a grand adventure of multiple days just to reach them, at her size. “Are you a…giant?”

“Nathan’s fine, he’s alright. And uh, no, I’m not a giant. But can I just say, you’re taking this really well so far.”

A few things seemed to rustle about, like a wind blew through an open window into the room. But none of the windows were open, so what made the curtains move like that?

“So…where is he? Is he here? Can you take me to him?”

Another chill ran down her spine like an ill omen, and she didn’t have to wait long to figure out what such a premonition had warned her of. She could hear, just around the corner, the sound of hulking, huge footsteps, moving slowly towards the room she was in now.

A giant.

“Can you do me just one favor?” the voice whispered, and it felt now as though the invisible person stood right next to her ear. It sent a fresh wave of chills down her skin, raising goosebumps along it, and she stood silently, frozen in place. “I’ll help you find Nathan as long as you don’t scream when you see this guy.”

“W-when I see who?” Danny muttered harshly, her head beginning to frantically turn this way and that as she looked for the danger her body warned her about, her heart’s tempo increasing with every second.

“The master of the house,” the voice said simply. Danny felt a sudden, almost tangible absence then—as if there really had been some sort of invisible person beside them, and they’d just…disappeared.

She steeled herself for what she was about to see, doing her best to quiet the rising panic inside of her as the footsteps grew closer. It felt almost as though each step shook the whole place, though certainly that was only due to how utterly dwarfed she was by everything. It was like she could feel the vibrations of each step in her chest as the sound echoed hollowly in the huge, empty house.

And then he made his appearance around the corner from a room further down, his eyes landing squarely and immediately on her—though as he caught sight of her, he remained standing where he was, as if he was simply observing her from a distance.

The man appeared to be young, not much older than her, with a slender, willowy frame and sharp, dark eyes. His dark black hair was done up in an elegant but simple updo, his hair twisted around on each side of his face and collected in a bun in the back. He wore a brocaded burgundy waistcoat atop a loose, white shirt—everything about him suggested an air of wealth and sophistication that fit the house he resided in.

That, of course, and the fact that he was at least a hundred fucking feet tall.

* * * * * * * * * *

Next Chapter ->

You've all seen the movie, so surely you all know it's going to go well in the next chapter, right?

Thanks for reading, and see you next week with chapter 3, Master of the House!

#cursed cravings #itwom #itwom au #beauty and the beast au #g/t writing #g/t stories #g/t vore #vore writing #vore stories #nonsexual vore #sfw vore #soft vore

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britcision · 1 year

Text

I gave you Danny last week, and continuing my cruel streak of not giving you the Bruce-And-Constantine that makes up most of the meat of this chapter… 😈 have some Jason!

We’re close to the end my dears so with any luck this is the last WIP Wednesday we’ll spend on chapter 11, and get that posted soon! I’m just slowing down a little, because Jason’s… well, he’s a little heavy in this one

Needs some cheering up. As always, the rest of the fic is in the tag and on AO3 under Danny Fenton: Dead and Loving It

——————

Fuck the no killing rule, Jason was gonna murder Harley Quinn. And by that, yeah, he probably actually meant “seek vengeance in some small but annoying way”, but still.

He didn’t actually have a crush on Danny. It was a bit they were putting on to fuck with his nosey brothers, and it was probably a good sign that they’d apparently fooled Harley too.

But Harley was a hopeless romantic and prone to see romance where none existed, so maybe it wasn’t that good.

More importantly, Danny didn’t fucking know he was Red Hood yet. He’d have to text Harley tonight and drill that in, since she’d definitely picked up that Danny was in on the secret.

And since apparently they were all gonna be hanging out tomorrow.

He kinda wished he hadn’t brought it up. That Harley hadn’t asked.

He’d monopolised so much of Danny’s time already over the break, three full days and they still had to make that run back to Frostbite.

Danny must have had some other plans. Something he actually wanted to do with his time instead of just following Jason around.

The gala had been fun though. And so had today, it just… Jason couldn’t help feeling he was being too needy. Too clingy, with a guy he’d known for all of a week if you were generous.

Being around Danny made him feel like himself for the first time in fucking years, and he knew what he’d have given up for that.

He didn’t want to be too much. Too pushy. Didn’t want Danny to get sick of hanging out with him so soon, and leave him right back where he’d been; bitter, angry, and alone.

At least Danny didn’t seem to be thinking too much about Harley’s parting shot. There was definitely something on his mind, but they hadn’t actually unlinked arms.

Jason could feel his aura.

Concern-worry-worry.

Shit, they hadn’t fucking unlinked arms. Should they? Should Jason have? For fucks sake he was literally clinging to the guy, this was fucking ridiculous, he should just.

But Danny hadn’t pulled away.

It’d be weird to pull away now.

Jason managed to keep himself distracted in that little spiral all the way to the garage he’d parked his bike in. Danny waited until they left the manor’s grounds to speak again though, arms tightening around Jason’s chest.

“Pull over a sec?” He called above the wind, and Jason very firmly did not let that pitch him further. He pulled over, still firmly in the heights and far from any living souls.

Unless theirs counted. Probably not.

He dropped the kickstand and pulled off his helmet, hoping Danny just wanted to talk. Maybe ask him to make his excuses to Harley.

Ask Jason to drop him at the university and not follow him home. That’d make sense. He didn’t need a wayward puppy.

He didn’t actually get off the bike. Didn’t want to give up Danny’s arms wrapped around him, even if it was just for expedience.

And maybe realised that wasn’t a great idea when Danny rested his cheek on Jason’s back and a warm wave of relax-safe-reassurance threatened to swallow him.

“I know what you’re thinking about,” Danny admitted softly, and Jason damn near bolted. Barely heard the next words, which…

Well.

He knew Danny tended to overlook things. But it turned out he could be pretty damn perceptive too.

“She’s gonna be okay, you know. Cass. I can feel her anywhere in the city if I try, and I’ll know if something happens to her.”

And just like that, the bottom dropped out of Jason’s stomach.

He’d been trying not to think about it. Pretended he didn’t know what she’d be doing when she left, out in the city, one fucking accident from being like him.

Even worrying about Danny getting sick of him was better than that.

She might not even need the pit to bring her back this time. Gotham had a fuck ton of native ectoplasm even for a city; it couldn’t not.

Ectoplasm was made of and attracted to raw emotional energy. For all that people died every day in the city, more were born or moved in to join their ranks.

Gotham would be a metaphorical ghost town if they hadn’t, instead of the literal version slowly creeping across the city’s vigilantes.

From the rogues’ overdramatic schemes to the peoples’ undercurrent of rage and defiant joy, Gotham seethed with emotion. Most of the dead didn’t stay to use the ecto up, and every rogue attack brought a fresh wave.

Not clean ectoplasm like the realms, but tainted with their individual torments, the fierce glee, the desire to burn, it all churned into an ambient ectoplasm Danny swore he’d never seen in another city.

And that defiant spirit, the Gotham je ne sais quoi that made people put up with all the rogue attacks and dangers, was powerful too. Jason had known that even as a kid.

Now, it was literally the reason he was alive.

He might have a second core filling his system with pit water, but they’d both have dried up without the boundless “fuck off” energy Gotham was built on.

He’d felt it since the second he returned. He was alive in Gotham in a way he hadn’t been in Nanda Parbat, anywhere but the fucking pit. It let him think clearly.

Well.

Apparently Danny let him think clearly. That thought still stung. But it shouldn’t have surprised him.

He’d never been much of anything that other people didn’t make him.

It was why he didn’t really mind Clockwork trying to make him Danny’s knight within a couple hours of learning he was half dead. It was kinda what he did.

People had been using him as a weapon since he swung a tire iron at Batman himself. Protecting the guy who gave him his fucking soul back?

He’d have done that anyway, for free. And he got a kickass gun and a supernatural sense of when said asshole needed him. Honestly, easiest job of his life.

The catch would come eventually, but this whole “feeling the intent of people you talk to” thing left him way less suspicious than he still kinda felt he should be.

He’d rather that than be left nebulously owing his whole self to Danny with no way to repay him and no idea where the catch would come from.

It had just… never occurred to him that the same way Danny could reach out and find Vlad, he’d be able to find Cass. Or Jason himself, probably.

Jason hadn’t realised how tightly he’d wound himself until the pressure eased.

He sucked in a breath that seemed to fill his chest for the first time in hours, folded his arms forward onto the handlebars, and let his head rest against them.

Danny followed him down, never losing contact but his face slipping lower and lower down Jason’s back. It almost made him chuckle, imagining how they must have looked.

Actually, he did. Just a moment, a soft and almost giddy sound that he choked back immediately. He sounded… well. Not like himself.

He’d been itching since the girls left to patrol, wishing he could join them. Be Cass’s backup in the field and be sure she wasn’t going in on anything big alone.

Cass was a step beyond competent, she was exceptional and she’d been doing this for years without a shadow. On a regular day, she wouldn’t need help.

But hearing how close she was to losing her humanity and not coming back right no matter what had him on edge. He wanted to shield her, protect her from what he’d gone through.

It wasn’t that he wanted her out of the fight. The idea of asking her not to go out hadn’t even occurred to him. She could make her own choices and he’d back her with all he had.

He just absolutely fucking hated the idea that she was out there alone, while he had fucking nothing on him that’d let him go after her if she did need backup.

If she needed help, he’d have to waste time gearing up before he could go out after her. The other bats would have her back, they all would, so long as they weren’t busy too.

It wasn’t like he was anyone’s first choice for backup even now, he just.

Yeah. He might kinda get what Danny meant about his Obsession being protection. Protecting the bats was a recent addition, but Jason had burned himself out on enough missing kids since he got back to suspect.

He’d have to ask what an actual capital-letter Obsession felt like, but that would wait for another time.

Just knowing that Cass would be safe, had another pair of eyes and more powers than a Kryptonian watching her back made him feel like he could breathe again.

Even knowing that though, he was glad to have left the manor. He could take Danny home, suit up, and… wait.

Danny had no choice but to move back as he straightened, half moving to frown down at the smaller man.

“Is that why you wanted to leave?” He asked quietly, gauging Danny’s face.

Had Danny worked it out on his own? Felt him stressing out about his baby sister back in the field?

Did Danny know that Jason wanted to join her, if not necessarily which costume he wore, and cut his night short?

Would Danny do that for him?

The answer was obvious in the other man’s face as Danny shrugged, even before he spoke.

“I didn’t wanna put you on the spot, and I figured you’d rather get out of there,” he explained casually, leaning just a little into Jason. Enough to feel what warmth Danny had.

Jason hesitated for a long moment, not sure what to say. If he should thank Danny. If Danny would ask, and if Jason should tell him he was the Red Hood now.

It’d be weirder the longer he didn’t mention it. Like he was keeping a secret.

The same secret Danny had kept as a teenager, so at least he’d probably understand, but Jason didn’t like how it felt. He wasn’t fucking ashamed of being the Red Hood.

He’d done shit no one else ever could have, and every inch of his territory was safer than it had ever been without him. He was proud of what he’d done, even if he wouldn’t brag about his methods.

It worked. It got him where he was today, where he didn’t need to kill anymore because people turned tail at the hint of his damn name.

He still didn’t know how Danny felt about killing. It wasn’t something that came up in conversation much. Maybe he’d find a way to ask first.

Tonight, he managed a stiff nod and leaned a little of his own weight back into Danny. Even if the guy thought he was just gonna go home and mope there instead, it was a win.

“Thanks,” he said softly, half wishing for his helmet’s voice modulator. He didn’t like hearing his own voice sound so… vulnerable.

Danny, fucking angel of mercy that he was, chuckled softly and gave him a gentle tap upside the head.

“Yeah, well. Also wasn’t sure how the others would react to “99% of you are permanently on my radar” anyway, and I wanted to make sure you knew for Cass,” he explained cheerfully.

And yeah, Jason still hadn’t really processed that yet, and wasn’t even sure how he’d react. Smart fucking call on Danny’s part.

Chuckling under his breath, Jason shook his head and flipped the kickstand back up.

“Anything else before I take you to bed?” He asked, half teasing Danny’s own unfortunate choice of words earlier.

They were absolutely still fucking with his family to think this was some kind of romantic relationship. Maybe a bit to punish Bruce, who clearly couldn’t handle the idea of Jason happy.

Danny laughed, a hint of something Jason almost identified behind it, then settled himself more firmly against Jason’s back, hanging on properly again.

“Not a damn thing. Oh, are you gonna come pick me up tomorrow or do I make my own way to the manor to join you and Harley?” He asked, snugged up tight.

Jason had almost forgotten that was happening. Apparently. And suddenly he was glad for at least the motorcycle helmet as his cheeks flushed pink.

Fuck he’d say he was trailing after Danny like a puppy, except Danny was the one going where Jason needed to be.

Another excuse to get Danny on his bike, arms around him.

Fuck off, Jason Todd Romance Heroine. It was a goddamn jailbreak, if a legal one. Not a fucking meet cute.

“If you actually want to come,” he agreed a little hesitantly, because the voice that insisted he was just a burden and Danny was only humouring him wasn’t all displacement activity after all.

Or pit related, apparently. Delightful.

He coulda tried to pretend it was, but that had been more convincing back when it was always a background grumble of anger, not the little calm pool of happiness now sitting in his gut.

Unforeseen side effect of getting his toxic sludge cleaned up: he was gonna have to own some of his own bullshit now. Work out what was his and what wasn’t.

Danny leaned back a little, grip loosening, and Jason could feel concern like a whisper soft touch.

“Yeah… I would, if you don’t mind? It seems like he’s important to you.”

Jason wasted a moment trying to work out what the hell Danny meant by that.

Did he want to meet Croc cuz he was important to Jason? Or did he think Jason wouldn’t want him to if he was important?

Cuz while yeah, Jason considered Waylon a friend (and thanks, Harley, for the new name crisis, love that. The guy introduced himself as Killer Croc but Jason knew all about controlling a narrative) it wasn’t like he was family. Not like Dick, Cass, or the others.

Except. Roy was family. Long before any of the bats made it back into Jason’s good books, Roy was one of the first people to be happy Jason was alive.

And Waylon had helped Roy get help when Ollie fucking kicked him out.

Waylon had been a restraining hand on Jason’s shoulder too, in the bad old days. Keeping him from pushing too hard, going too big, doing something he really couldn’t come back from.

Family didn’t have to mean annoying texts at four AM. Didn’t have to come around for dinner every Sunday; how often did any of them really see Harley?

Fuck, how often would they have seen each other if Alfred didn’t have them all firmly under his culinary thumb.

Waylon had to count as a reliable old uncle at least.

And that kinda made it a different question. Did Jason want Danny to meet his family?

It had been an easy “yes” with the bats, not least because the nosy bastards would muscle their way in regardless. Croc…

Waylon never judged Jason. From his highest highs to lowest lows, he never looked down on him. Not even when he was telling Jason to stop and think.

It kinda made Jason ache for what his life should have been. His, and Waylon’s if he’d never been called Killer Croc.

And maybe it’d give Jason a read on how Danny would react to the Red Hood thing. Or whether or not Danny already knew.

——————

Ah, the darker sides of this story back again. We’ll get to Waylon himself next chapter (I hope), and in the mean time dear Jason has some baby angst and Bruce will only confuse things further

Tag list: @welcometosasakiworld @kyrianclawraith @someonebored0100 @stealingyourbones @starkcravingmad @frostedthroughghost @akikkobara @rainbowbunny0159 @littlefeather345 @violet-catsarelife @serasvictoria02 @wolfjackle @blacksea21090 @secretdestinywerewolf @anime-hipster-the-amazing @undead-essence @skitscratched @blackroserelina @snoodly-boop @trickerdi @mayoota-blog @xysidhe @idkmrpianoman @little-apricot-the-writer @chaoticmistake @the-legal-shipper @bun-fish @aroranorth-west @demon-cat-goes-woof @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 @itsparadoxlacuna

#danny fenton dead and loving it #wip wednesday #dp x dc #dpxdc #danny fenton x jason todd #dead on main ship #chapter 11 #never make a promise you can’t keep #lots of angst today #not the deepest but lots for me

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deadbydangit · 8 months

Note

So I was wondering if I could make a request I have a Briard dog his name is Hugo he's a very good boy but that's besides the point I was wondering how the dbd Killers would react to you having a Briard I don't really care who you add but can you add the knight please you don't have to do it if you don't want to

I can absolutely do that. I don't think I'll use one particular breed though, I'll generalize it. Amazing you have such a cool dog, that's a pretty rare breed. I'm sorry this took so long, I've been crazy busy. I hope you enjoy.

With a Reader who has a Dog

Knight, Ghostface, Mastermind

Knight

I can totally see Tarhos owning a Briard himself.

They have very loyal personalities and can be aggressive when needed.

Of course, he has no idea what dog breeds are which.

To him, a dog is a dog.

Those fancy looking ones belong to rich people.

The street dogs belong to,well, the streets.

But when you told him you had a dog, he'd be very interested.

He isn't a total animal person, but he can appreciate their loyal protective nature.

Once he meets your dog, he's instantly in love.

Not that he'd say that out loud.

This dog is a fine addition to the family.

He'll even take your pup out on hunting trips.

Maybe even try to sneak them into a trial.

The Entity won't allow that.

He'll be bitter about it.

But he might find little things in the different realms the dog might like.

Tennis balls from the garden of joy, meats from Coldwind, etc.

His men are also infatuated with the puppy.

So much so that you could be in the room and they won't even notice.

But you're both so important to Tarhos.

To him, you all make a perfect family.

Ghostface

"You have a dog! Sick!"

He loves dogs.

Much more than you'd think.

He's hoping you have this giant killer dog.

"Like Kujo. Do you have a Kujo dog? That was be bad ass."

Lower Danny's expectations.

Because it's just a Pomeranian.

He'll be slightly disappointed.

But he'll soon warm up to the idea.

He's still going to try and train your dog to attack, but it's pretty pathetic.

You'll often see him talking to the dog like it's an old friend.

"You, I had this weird dream where Freddy was chasing me, and I hit him on the head with a freezer door."

And if your dog makes any sound in response?

"Right? That's exactly what I was thinking!"

"That's an idea! God, you're really smart."

It's pretty damned cute.

If he does manage to teach your dog a trick, expect him to display it proudly till it's annoying everyone else.

It has also made him more responsible.

Taking care of a dog is work, and he's actually helping.

The impact you and your pup have had on his life means so much more to him than you'd think.

Mastermind

Wesker isn't really a dog person.

He prefers cats.

They're independent and stay out of the way.

That being said, he did work with some dogs while he was in S.T.A.R.S.

So he's rather pleased when you show him your Doberman.

He's naturally very calm, so animals warm up to him fast.

Wesker won't coddle or spoil the dog though.

He wants to let them know who's in charge.

But, he'll slowly start to see the dog as more than just an animal.

He will do training though.

You often hear him praising your pup after training sessions.

"You've done we today. Continue this progress tomorrow."

He's been teaching them police work.

"Dogs such as this enjoy jobs, that's what they're bred for. They enjoy this."

And he's right.

Your dog has been in much better shape.

He's also making sure you're protected when he isn't around.

"Dearheart, we both love you, so allow us to protect you."

#dbd imagines #dbd ask blog #dbd x reader #dbd killer #dbd ghostface #dbd mastermind #dbd knight

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judes-hoe · 22 days

Text

Bitter rivals,Sweet love

Parrings~Lewis Hamilton x OC Summary~She’s gonna be in f1 for her third year and goes to a team no one expects her to. She’s always got a cold expression and only those close to her know why. Shes been close one to many times to winning a championship and this year she’s gonna get it no matter what.

Warnings~none I don’t think

A/N~i can’t wait to see how this turns out

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Vanessa walked into the paddock, scanning her pass as she walked through and to the Mercedes garage. Her eyes lit up when she seen a familiar face. “Calvin?” She asked. He turned around and smiled at her. Calvin was her race engineer during her time in F3 and F2. She had someone different while at Ferrari. She hugged the man happy to see him. “How you been kid?” He asked, he loved being her race engineer when he was and was happy to be it again. “I’ve been better, how have you been?” She asked him. “I’ve been good, and sorry for your loss,” he replied but she just ignored him at the last part.

She went to her drivers room, changing out the clothes she arrived in, and into her fire proofs and her suit. She sat for a minute scrolling on instagram before she saw it was time for FP1. She walked out her drivers room with her balaclava and helmet in hand. She put her balaclava on and before she put on her helmet she kissed each side one had ‘Enzo’ and the other had ‘Emilia’. She did it before each FP1, Q1, the race, and the sprint if there was one. She loved her helmet, one side was blue and the other a purple and had them fade into each other.

She got in her car, she watched as Lewis was back in the garage and she was sent out. Toto thought it was best they don’t go out at the same time. She took a lap warming up her tyres. When she came around the last corner and saw the finish line and pressed the accelerator a little harder to start her flying lap. She hit all the corners right managing to keep her speed the whole time. She got fastest lap and took p1 from Charles who had fastest before her. She went around again before pulling into the pit and going back into the garage and Lewis going back out. “Good job kid,” she heard through the radio. “God have I missed that beautiful face Calvin,” she said back, she heard him laugh.

When Lewis came back in she went out and did her fast lap after warming her tyres. She managed to get p2 behind max before going into pits again. Lewis went back out again, she was happy with my cars performance and hers. There was also only 2 minutes left of FP1 so she got out her car before walking over to Calvin. She watched with him as the last couple cars did their last laps.

FP2 went the same for her but she ended up p3 which Charles p2 and max p1. Lewis behind her in p4. Tomorrow they have FP3 and qualifying. She walked out the garage and stood to the side texting Daniel.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nessa🤍

Dannyyyyy

Wyd

Where are you???

Danny🍯🦡

Hey kid

Im about to go into a meeting

What do you need?

Nessa🤍

Oh…

I was just wondering if you wanted to go out again but I’ll go ask Charles🙃

Danny🍯🦡

Oh sorry nessa

Maybe we can go out again before we leave☺️

Nessa🤍

Ok danny ttyl😝 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Italy’s girl🇮🇹

charlieeeeee

CHALRESSSSS LECLERC

Wyd??????!

Monaco’s prince🇲🇨

Uhhhhh nothing ig

Why

Italy’s girl🇮🇹

Cause I don’t wanna go back to my hotel

So you wanna go out to eat???

We can invite Lando to😝

Monaco’s prince🇲🇨

Yesss let’s go out cause I didn’t wanna go back to my hotel either😭

I’ll text Lando

Italy’s girl🇮🇹

Okay see u soon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Charles texts Lando and they all meet up at a restaurant and hang out and eat there. They all gossip and talk more about their vacations. Vanessa had a great time and was happy, only time she showed happiness was when she was with her friends alone. She hated showing it to everyone, people always wondered why she acted so cold all of a sudden, but it wasn’t their business if it was she would’ve just said something.

They all went back to their hotels around 8pm. When she got back to her room, she took a nice hot shower and cleaned her face. She then laid in bed scrolling on TikTok before putting her phone on the charger and closing her eyes to get a good amount of sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

FP3 went great Vanessa getting P2, Charles being the one to get P1. She sat in her drivers room waiting for Q1 to start. She heard 2 knocks on the door which meant it was time. Toto decided to let her go out first instead of Lewis. Vanessa talked to a few engineers before getting in her car, they pulled her out the garage and she drove out the pit lane. As she was warming up her tyers she heard the radio go off. “You still do your same strategies,” Calvin asked Vanessa. “Yes sir, still do and works like a charm!” She exclaimed. “Alright kid do your thing,” he laughed.

It was the same strategy she used every year from F4 to F1. She does good enough to pass Q1 and Q2, she manages to try and get p4 to p6. Then in Q3 puts in her best effort and tries to get p1, p2, or p3. And it worked like a charm for Vanessa ever.single.time.

She managed to get p5 in Q1, and p4 in Q2. So Vanessa puts in her all for Q3, as she passes the checkered flag as the end of Q3 she pressed she radio button. “How’d I do Calvin?” She asked him hoping she’d gotten the position she wanted. “Pole position nessa great job!” He exclaimed through the radio. She pulled into the pit lane after she went around the track one last time. She walked into the garage with people congratulating her, she went over and got weighed losing the right amount she should be.

All Vanessa was thinking right was how she wanted to go back to her hotel room and take a nice bath. As she was walking to her drivers room she felt a pair of eyes on her, she look the the direction and saw him looking at her, she looked back at him, anger in her eyes as she did before walking into her drivers room to get changed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Vanessa was finally taking her nice needed bath, soft Italian music in the background. All calming until her loud ringtone took over and she grabbed her phone look at the name. “dannazione,” she mumbled under her breath. She answered the phone and heard someone talking in the background. “Lando you muppet do you need something?” She asked the man that’s interrupting her peace. “Oh hey nessa, was wondering if you wanted to come over to my room, Charles,Carlos,max, and some others are here,” he said as she heard more talking in the background. “I might but your interrupting me, I’m trying to take a bath,” she said with annoyance in her tone. “Oh, ok sorry just let me know if you’re coming over,” he said before they said goodbye to each other and Vanessa went back to relaxing.

Well she never went to Lando’s because when she got out that bath and laid in bed she was knock out and it was only 8:30pm.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N~ WAIT TILL NEXT CHAPTER, also I’m not gonna write about the Saudi GP, and kinda skim over it cause the Australian GP is when things are gonna get GOOOOOOD!!!!!!!

Taglist: @happy-golden-hour @tallrock35

#judes-hoe😚#lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x you #Lewis Hamilton X oc #Daniel Riccardo #charles leclerc #lando norris

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yetanothergreyjedi · 1 year

Text

Ghosts of Our Past: pt 11

DP x DC crossover

Danny Fenton and Damian Wayne sibling AU

Ao3

Masterpost Prev Next

It's Wednesday my dudes, here you go

---

Constantine: Ya better not be asking because the pajama party managed to both find one and piss it off.

Batman: That is not the situation.

Constantine: Can you leave it alone? If yes: do that!

Batman: I am simply asking for information.

---

"Coffee buddy!" Danny called as Tim (or did he prefer Drake? He'd heard him called both so maybe it was just whatever?) walked into the cave shortly after Alfred. Who was liminal but in a weird way... Danny was guessing he was just your standard immortal. Anyway! Tim looked like he hadn’t slept in the time between now and when Danny had last seen him.

"Coffee buddy!" Tim shouted, as dramatically as he did, then in more of a whisper, "You have to help me! Alfred has cut me off!"

Danny glanced at Alfred, who had definitely heard him. Nope! Not worth the risk! "I can guess why. I might be half dead, but at least I don't look it,"

Everyone tensed at the joke, the opposite of what Danny had been going for. Scratch that, everyone but Jason tensed. Jason let out a snort. "They don't think those jokes are funny,"

Danny pouted almost as much as Tim.

---

Jazz chose boots instead of heels. Armored HAZMAT instead of a blazer. Hair pulled tightly back instead of free and unthreatening. If her roommate was still awake, she'd probably mistake her for an intruder, but she was not, and Jazz was gone before that could change. Gotham was over a days drive away— but only if she insisted on obeying physics.

---

Danny had waited until later in the night to tell Damian "We should talk." And had Damian stiffened but agreed. Because of the lateness someone suggested that Damian guide his brother back to the hotel. While, again, Damian agreed, the tension did not lift. They moved silently until he couldn’t stand it anymore.

"I'm sorry." Danny "I should've come back for you, I was a coward, probably still am, but—"

"No— you’re not— Stop apologizing! I should be apologizing!"

The air was a swirl of bitter flavors, Danny gave a nervous laugh before starting. "It's fine— I mean, it's really not, but we were little kids and like, super brainwashed. So it's not purely your fault... I mean I don't blame you for it... anymore..."

"Just like that?" Damian's voice was small. Doubt was sour like inedible berries, honey sweet hope did little to balance it.

Danny sighed, "Dami, I've spent the last seven years trying to sort this out in my head. It's not 'just' like anything."

He turned around, his back to Damian as he climbed. "Like this, it freaks me out, and at first I thought you'd been hunting me, but you weren't and intentions matter."

Like all the ghosts who'd been teaching him how to ghost by lightly punting him, or his parents before the ectouranium incident. Damian had waited a moment before following him, putting enough distance between them that Danny didn't feel like his heart was going to leave his chest. Even if Danny wasn't actually that worried about being stabbed, he would be fine, he wouldn't even bleed if he didn't want to. Trauma was dumb like that though, and he appreciated Damian's patience.

His younger brother pulled himself up after him. "But I did. I meant to."

Guilt was another flavor Danny couldn't describe with human terms, but this specific guilt satisfied something entirely in-human inside him, a part that still hadn't let this death go. "And you did. But would you do it again?"

"No!"

"Then we're cool about that."

"And about you remaining hidden." Damian adds. "I would not have responded the same if you had returned to Nanda Parbat..."

"But you got out," Danny marveled. "I hadn't let myself hope, Dami... I'm so proud of you,"

Damian sniffled, and Danny pulled the younger boy into his arms.

---

Back in the cave, Bruce moved to the comms control panel, and silently hit mute. They didn't need anyone else listening in on this.

The league communicator buzzed.

Constantine: And you're sure it's a Doorway Spirit, not just a Barrier Spirit?

Batman: He said Doorway.

Constantine: Who said it?! Bats if someone is fucking around with one, ya lead with that!

---

Cleaning tears out of domino masks wasn't hard, but it did make one feel foolish. Danny seemed way too amused but the fact.

"They're designed to keep outside contaminants out. The usual amount of tears is minimal." Damian pointed out.

"It still seems dumb." Danny finished wiping his on the hem of his shirt. At least they both had hoods, otherwise they'd have to find a more secure location with fuzzy lenses.

"It is certainly an oversight." Damian agreed.

"Makes sense tho?"

"What does?"

"If you're having a crisis in the mask you probably should go home. And if you can't see, then it's gonna be hard to keep working."

"Sometimes we are still needed. It is something to improve."

Danny paused, mask still in hand. He looked Damian in the eye. "Even with all of you? It gets that bad?"

"There are times, it's not— Danny..." Damian took a step back.

"Is everything... oh, it's my eyes again isn't it." Danny flushed, and his eyes returned to blue. "That's just something that happens with me, it's not a sign I'm about to go all murdery or something."

Damian nodded slowly, Danny certainly seemed in control of himself, and earlier with Todd he'd focused on defense. That did not seem like someone under the influence of pit rage.

"I've got it on the list of 'things I need to explain at some point,'"

"You have a list."

"Yeah, I have a list, my life is weird. You should probably have a list too."

"I do not."

"I'm sorry?! Do you think I missed the Bat cave dinosaur?!"

---

Batman: Constantine. What do you know?

Constantine: for certain? Almost nothing. These guys are rare, and powerful.

---

"Why is there a magazine butt plate catch?" Jason asked, completely serious. Tim was too sleep deprived to not giggle.

"Replacement." Jason chided, almost sounding fond... Tim must be getting slap happy. Jason held up the offending piece of metal. "Where did this come from?"

"Probably from when Danny took apart the gun,"

"What?"

Tim was already pulling up the mask footage. They watched the two minute explanation, then, gun bits on the pavement.

"He didn't even look at it..." Tim realized, considering that the part on the table wasn't that easy to remove. He was also 90% sure you needed tools to take a gun apart that completely.

"You know what, that tracks." Jacen said, like he was aware of something Tim was not.

---

Batman: Do you want to have this conversation in person?

Constantine: *Read 1:46 AM*

---

"So... Do you play Doomed?"

"Tt, Of course,"

"Oh, so you're good at it." Danny inferred, hopping down onto the fire escape.

Damian followed, noting how the metal had been silent for Danny, but made a soft clank when Damian stepped. The more Danny relaxed the more effort Damian had to put into tracking his movements. "Of course,"

Danny made a mock-offended gasp, "You're just saying of course to be annoying!"

Damian hadn't been, he had been distracted by the almost unnatural stealth. However he did not say this. He gave a sly smile. "Of course,"

"Well then, I don't suppose you'd want to come in and meet my friends?"

The game had been a trap. Damian was not going to admit defeat so easily... and well, he did want to meet the people his brother chose to occupy his time with. "Of course."

Danny beamed as he led Damian to the hallway window. He pulled it open in a too-smooth way and Damian knew that opening windows from the outside did not work like that. It did not, however, even surprise him at this point.

"They're going to love you," Danny said, right before pain exploded in the back of Damian's head. Then, the world went black.

I've made an executive decision that nights in Gotham are longer than nights in nearby locations. Most people won't notice or will think it's their imagination, Amity kids noticed immediately but shrugged and decided that technically meant they got to sleep in.

I don't think it's actually gonna come up in fic, but like nearly every plot point in Gotham happens at night, and I'm implementing a "magic" system, so Gotham gets quirks.

1. I was gonna have bats find out that Dami did the stab here, but then I realized how much potential there was in Danny just casually mentioning it.

2. Danny figures, he told them what he was, so he's done putting a ridiculous amount of effort into being human.

3. Cliffhanger

4. Why does Ao3 add in automatic spacing in the chapter text but not the notes section? It's weirding me out

Tag list:

@spectralstardustandphantomnights @avelnfear @idfk-man10 @blackroserelina @candeartist422 @mur-ururu @luer-mirin @insufferablecatenthusiast @skulld3mort-1fan @alonedustspeck @voidbornposts @meira-3919 @marshmello @aethernorwood @mimilikey @undead-essence @cloudminder @markus209 @everything163 @latheevening226 @roman4517 @moobloomrights @battybatbat @lumosfeather18581 @werv @ahyesanerd @pyramaniac @lexdamo @princessbelix @bun-fish @deeannthepan @edgyboi10000 @thatrandomsarahchick @busterkeel @aconitewolfsbane @spoopyspoony @bright-shade @spidey29phangirl @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @keimiwolf @u-a-wizard-jamie @gay-puff @bicerise @itshype @blackfoxsposts @icanneverdecide @lolottes @chubbypotato @jovialherringtacoghost @saltyladynightmare

#dp x dc fanfic #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #ghosts of our past #grey writes

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zeestarfishalien · 1 year

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Part 8: I Never Wanted to Sleep

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Danny doesn’t think someone should be able to forget how to open their own eyes, but he’s been a special case ever since his original half death.

Even with the excitement that freedom brings, he can’t enjoy it. He’s not strong enough to form and

He doesn’t remember how to open his eyes

It’s instinct to block the probing reaches of foreign magic. Magic has so often led to trouble in his half life.

If the word “wish” weren’t such a taboo, Danny would make one. Whether it be to be able to hear what is going on around him or open his eyes is a toss up. Both would be great, but wishing for both would definitely get twisted around on him.

Back on task Danny.

It’s all well and good that The Man, the one like him, is here but that doesn’t mean it’s safe. Them opening his cage doesn’t mean he’ll be set free. Danny doesn’t like the way the magic users’ spells feel. He can hide in his core, use its powers to create a barrier to protect him from their prying poking magic.

~*~

Moving scared him. He didn’t know where he was and The Man was gone. He’s back now and everything is finally quiet, but Danny did expend a little too much energy in his panic. It’ll take longer before he can maintain a form once more.

A part of him hates that he doesn’t know how much time is passing. What if it’s months or years and The Man gives up on him? It shouldn’t be, but Danny doesn’t know how long it has been since he was buried in the cemetery. He is careful to not think about before, it is better to leave those old memories as hazy impressions, the good and the bad.

It’s harder now. He’s not able to form and his comatose body is no longer entombed in the cemetery. It’s almost enough to convince him to allow himself to dwell in memories.

Almost…

Danny is scared though. He’s scared of the pain and the fear and the oh so sharp burn of betrayal. Worst of all, he’s afraid to hope.

Ridiculous...afraid of rejection and afraid to hope for acceptance. Danny really can't win, can he...

~*~

Observing himself from outside his own body is a strange experience and oddly enough it's one that feels vaguely familiar. It’s especially strange when he realizes he’s more used to the four legs of his current form than he is to the two legs he has supposedly lived his whole life with.

His ghost form is still almost exactly the same as when he died. He certainly looks less human, but still that fresh-faced nearly 15 year-old boy. "Changes to this form will be slow," a voice from locked away memories echoes. It's a voice with a bitter chill but it's comforting in a way that speaks of trust. Danny trusts that being. He can trust their words.

It's a little odd how his body has remained perfectly preserved. No sign of hair growth or decay. He was certain he'd been trapped for a long long time. He's not sure anymore.

He’s not sure of anything anymore.

That is, until he sees The Man. Danny remembers the small teen who crawled in a panicked haze from his grave, more animal than human. He is big now. Tall and broad and so solidly alive in a way that Danny longs to feel again.

It’s not fair.

Danny squashes the little voice in the back of his mind saying that. He just needs to remember.

He wants to remember.

The Man, fumbling over himself is such a human reaction. Was Danny like that before?Can he be like that again?

Human…

Human.

He’s not human. He can’t be human anymore even if he only vaguely remembers why, but maybe… just maybe, he can be something close to human again someday.

First | Previous | Next

If anyone else has any church grim danny au ideas or wants to write stuff, ABSOLUTELY go for it! I love seeing everyone’s thoughts and emotions about it and I would adore seeing other people’s takes on this idea. Wow, what a time to be alive. Just a reminder, this fic is also on AO3. The link is on the original post which is linked as “First” here. Danny’s chapters keep ending up rather short but ya know, that’s just how it be sometimes. The human mind is incredible the way it can dull or fully block out memories in order to help cope with trauma (apparently it's not normal to remember almost nothing of your childhood but that's old news for me *shrugs*). Danny boi is trying his best poor laddie.

[Tag List] @emergentpanda-blog @my-perfect-storybook-love @gunebugfic @thegatorsgoose @thewondersoflebanon @bobred18 @d4ydr34min9 @ver-444 @redafi @echoednonny @greenmuffinofdoom @mentalcarebear @fisticuffsatapplebees @vythika96 @writer-extraodinaire @meira-3919 @yjfk @oddlydrawnpuppets @crystalqueertea @lazy-bouqet @darkthunder1589 @mnemovoid @keimiwolf @aarinisreading @love-has-no-labels @terzatheunderscorerima @idkmrpianoman @mur-ururu @chip-thief @kawaiikenna

@rangerhorsetug @treepainting @thatonegirl10 @demiourgias @spooky-fm @antagonisticly @fluffy23sblog @manglethemingle @kyrianclawraith @layyeschips @shepardking @asphyxia778 @ballzfrog @fluffen-spooky @drowningroane @deathsdaisy @malaayna @mistyaltair @potatoeofwisdom @heartsong18 @nixthenerd @icedbluesoul @the-church-grimm @overtherose @sara0055 @banishedthumbs @tired-yet-awaken

@dannyphantomphan @nonbinary-disaster @depressed-bitchy-demon @8-29pm @addie-lover-of-stories @lifefilledwithstories @apointlessbox @skulld3mort-1fan @katgirl05 @spookytragedyshark @mandyne-1001 @ascetic-orange @booklover9114 @qualifiedpasta @mouzerequis @fleeting-mists @gin2212 @rollthatcritical @kaitouhime @itsloveleo @litlecameron @phantom-dc @hippityhoppity-iownyourbones @pastalavistamf @kokoroluna @legowerewolf @riasthelustful @agreatcheesecakestudentstuff @mysterimax

@akintoabitch @snowblub @isaactheautobot @jaguarthecat

#dp x dc #church grim danny au #the black dog danny #jason todd #dc x dp #danny phantom crossover #dc crossover

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insomniamamma · 1 year

Text

Closing Time: Marcus Pike x F!reader

A/N: This is my first installment in my Year of Kisses themed creation challenge! I was invited to join the fun by @oonajaeadira and @yearofcreation2023! I have never really participated in anything like this so be gentle. This fic plays fast and loose with Marcus Pike canon. I wanted to write for our Perfect Boyfriend without watching seven something seasons of the mentalist. If Marcus is OOC that is entirely on me. Also Sherri is entirely based on a supervisor I had once. I loved that lady to pieces.

Warnings: Angst. Break ups. Language. Alcohol. Some drunken flirting and kisses. Reader has a truly shitty ex.

This is the last place he wants to be. C'mon, Marc it'll be fun, said Danny. You need to get out of this fucking office, said Sherri. You're just gonna sit home and mope otherwise. I'm not going to mope. You're gonna sit home and watch old movies and pine. For that stupid Lisbon woman, or whoever's managed to break your heart lately. Sherri gives him the look. Fine. She means well. Sherri and Danny and Big Bill, they all mean well. They know him well, too well maybe. Marcus's New Years plans involved getting take out and catching up on the Christmas movies he'd neglected. White Christmas. Die Hard. Gremlins. The classics. Fine. I'll go. For a little while.

And now? The jukebox is playing "Hallelujah," John Cale's version. It's just past midnight and the ball dropped on the tv over the bar and people kissed each other and called their friends and Marcus's phone sits like a brick in his pocket, a fossil from when Lisbon would call, from when Dierdre and Sarey would sometimes call. Can't think of a single person he wants to call. He stands arm in arm with his friends who dragged him here, rocking back and forth with them, "hallelujah, hallelujah, Halle-loo-oo-oo-oooh-jah--" And that's when he sees you, hunched at the bar, the only other person in this dive who isn't paired off, who isn't singing along with a bunch of drunks, your face pinched and closed off in the bleary bar mirror, peeking out around plastered on stickers and flyers for long defunct bands. He can tell that you've been crying.

You drink and watch your phone light up with messages. Hey you okay? Did you make it home? U ok? What happened? You don't give a fuck. They can wait until tomorrow to find out if you lived or died or caught an Uber back home. Fuck. Home's not even home anymore technically. Staying the night at my Mom's. He'd texted. We'll figure out the logistics tomorrow. He'd texted. Logistics. Three years and it boils down to fucking logistics. Three years in and he dumps you at 11:50 on New Years Eve. So that's how you find yourself alone in this little pub with a bunch of drunks singing along with the jukebox, but at least it's quieter here. You catch your own reflection in the mirror, face peering over half empty liquor bottles with plastic spouts stuck in them, eyes puffy from crying. You laugh. A low and bitter sound. Who dumps somebody on New Years Eve? "...couldn't've waited twelve more hours," you say, muttering into your half-finished drink, into the black hole at the center of the galaxy, "Couldn't've sucked it up for one more fucking night!" The last bit comes out loud, and you feel eyes on you, hunker down into yourself, into your glass, like a snail pulling into its shell, and then the noise of the bar resumes. He'd rested his hands on his shoulders and peered into your face like he did when he meant kiss you or say something sweet. I'm not in love with you anymore, he'd said, the same tone of voice used for things like hey can you take the garbage out, or hey, we need more dish soap the next time you go to the store. Okay, so maybe bitch-slapping him in the middle of the dance floor in front of all your friends wasn't the best move, but it felt good and right. And now he keeps texting you about his stuff. His clothes and his x-box and you and the girls did a round of tequila shots before and you can't quite figure out how this all happened. Why now? Why tonight? Things were good, weren't they? Or at least not bad, and you watch the ice melt in your drink and feel tricked, bamboozled, and oddly relieved. If he's willing to pull this shit you're better off without him, you think, but deep down you just wish it was all a mistake, that you'd just have someone warm to come home to, even if things weren't great. That maybe the both of you will wake up tomorrow and be like did we really break up last night? That's crazy. But he's texting you about his x-box and his ps 5 and how he really needs it even though you went halfsies on it. Text me one more time and you get nothing. You hit send and turned off your phone. Thank fuck his name's not on the lease. Let him stew. Let them stew. Fuck 'em. You feel someone settle at the bar beside you. "Hey, are you okay?" "What do you think?" It comes out harsh and you regret it instantly. This stranger in this dive on New Years Eve has nothing at all to do with what's happened. You turn to look and you see a tired man with his lips quirked up in a smile that doesn't quite hit his eyes. "Sorry," you say, and shake your head, "I'm not--fuck--this has been a hell of a night. I hope you're not looking for a hookup because I got dumped at ten-till and the last thing--" He laughs, a soft low sound. "A hookup's the last thing I want," he says and holds out his hand, "Come and sit with us. So you're not all by yourself." You eye him skeptically. "Is this some sort of pity thing?" He laughs a little, a soft exhale, "If it is, we can be pitiful together. He glances over at a table of drunks, "I'm only here because they dragged me. I was going to order a pizza and watch Christmas movies-" "It's past Christmas." "I spent Christmas working," he says, "If that's not pitiful I don't know what is." You feel yourself warming to him. "I bet you don't even have a tree up." "I do!" He smiles, and this time it does touch his eyes, frames them in lovely crinkles, and maybe it's better to hang out with a handsome stranger in a bar than sit and drink and brood about how tomorrow you're gonna have to clear your boyfriend's shit out of your place. Ex. Ex boyfriend you have to keep reminding yourself. "It's not a real one, and it's only four feet tall. But it's there!" He offers his hand again. "C'mon," He says, "You don't have to be all alone." Fuck it, you think, down the watery dregs of your whiskey sour and place your hand in his, allow him to draw you from your place at the bar. He is striking, leather jacket across broad shoulders, tight jeans that grip him just right, and eyes so deep and warm a girl could fall right in and drown. "I'm Marcus," he says, and gives your hand a squeeze, but doesn't let go. You tell him your name and he leads you away from the brightness of the bar, back to where the jukebox plays a distorted love song "the curl of your bodies, like two perfect circles entwined see you feel hopeless, and homeless, and lost in the haze of the wine--" back to his table of friends, smiling and laughing, sticky shot glasses and half-filled pints between their hands. Sherri. Danny. Big Bill. Sherri has large blonde hair and gummy blue eyeliner and a cigarette roughed voice. "You seem nice enough, what're you doing with this sad sack of shit?" She jerks her head and Marcus looks like he wants to evaporate and you laugh. "I got dumped--let's see--" you power up your phone just long enough to check the time, lock screen lit with a tangle of missed texts --"47 minutes ago? Guess two sad sacks of shit are gonna find each other, huh?"

The night passes in a warm blur, you and your newfound friends drinking together and laughing, Sherri's got stories that leave the table wheezing laughter and all through it Marcus is a warm presence at your side, your hands keep finding each other's, his gentle grasp an anchor in this storm of a night. You feel like you've speed-run the stages of grief over your ex. Sherri eyes you over shot glasses that have popped up like mushrooms over the course of the evening. "Listen here," she says, pointing a pink lacquered dagger of a nail in your direction, "Keep the PS5. He paid his half in cash right? Unless you wrote him out a receipt he can't prove shit. His name's not on the lease. Leave whatever you see fit in a cardboard box by the front door and block his number. Wash your hands of him. You don't owe him shit." "Yeah, fuck him," says Danny, and Big Bill comes back from the bar holding too many drinks and Marcus rests a warm palm on your shoulder. "Hey," he says, those big dark eyes full of concern, "You don't think he's gonna try anything do you? You're safe, right?" And your first impulse is to laugh, the only thing your boyfriend, ex-boyfriend is a danger to is game controllers and the fifteen year olds who roast him over discord, but Marcus looks so sincere. "Yeah. He's--I'm not worried." "Can I give you my number? Just in case something happens--" Danny launches in to the worst mob-movie New York accent you've ever heard in your life. "You give Markie here your number, see? One woid and your ex'll be sleepin with the fishes. We'll fit him out for the old cee ment loafers, we'll--" "Jesus, Dan, you sound like the bastard child of Tony Soprano and Rizzo the Rat--" And everyone loses their collective shit. "If I'm Rizzo the Rat, then you're Miss Piggy--" "No way am I Miss Piggy! I'm nowhere near that wound up--" "Bill here is Sweetums." "If I'm Sweetums, Marc's that grouchy Eagle." "No way," you say, "He's Kermit. Tell me I'm wrong." "Hi-ho this is Kermit the frog here with a muppet news flash," and that's it. You are crying into your drink with laughter, and once you can breathe and put words together you tell him-- "You are the last person in the world I would've thought could do Kermit the frog--" And he smiles, a bashful one that pinks his cheeks and turns his face away. "Marcus has many talents," says Sherri, "Don't let him fool you."

"I can see that you are lonesome just like me And it being late, you'd like some company Well, I turn around to look at you, and you look back at me The guy you're with, he's up and split—the chair next to you is free And I hope that you don't fall in love with me--"

The lights are up and Tom Waits plays through the bar. People settle their tabs and head out into the bright night. It's snowing, large flakes that catch and hold the light, street-lights haloed in whirling yellow. "Do you need a ride?" He asks, snow catching in his hair, his hand warm around yours. "I can walk," you say. "I'll walk with you," "How'll you get home?" "Taxi. Uber. I'll manage," he smiles, soft and sad, "Let me get you home safe, okay?" "Okay." Marcus offers his arm like some old time movie character and you loop your arm through his. Snow falls, slow and soft and heavy, and the bars let out all around, spilling people into the streets, closing time everywhere, and people sound happy, buoyed on the promise of a better year, at least for a few days until the shine wears off and it's back to business as usual. Sooner than you want you're at your front step. "This is me," you say, and wish it wasn't, wish for more time in the swirling snow with him, and his hand traces down your arm, his fingers find yours and lace through. "Are you okay?" he asks. "No. But I will be." You surge forward and hug him, wrap your arms around his broad back and snow-dotted jacket, and he grips you in kind, cradles the back of your head in his hand, tucks your face into the warm join of his neck and shoulder, "Thanks for looking out for me." He squeezes you tighter. "It's my pleasure," he says drawing back to look at you, his hands on your shoulders, "And if your ex--" "He won't," you say, "He couldn't even wait till midnight. Couldn't even give me a kiss. I mean, not that I'd want him to now--" Marcus reaches for you, brushes the pad of his thumb over your cheek, the question hanging in his eyes. You nod and he presses his lips to yours, waits for you to kiss back, and then his tongue slides soft between your parted lips, tender, undemanding, your face cradled in his warm, calloused hands. "Come upstairs with me," you say, and you feel him draw back, bright line of hurt in your chest. "I want to," he says, "I want to take you to bed if you'd have me--" "Then why--" "I don't want to push you," he says, "I move fast. I scare people off sometimes. I like you a lot. I don't want to hurt you, okay?" "Okay." That line of hurt resolves itself into a dull ache, "I should get some sleep. Gotta dump Asshole's stuff on the curb bright and early." He leans in kisses your cheek. "See you next year." "See you."

At some point in the deepest ditch of night you turn your phone back on. Peer bleary-eyed at the notifications, unanswered texts. You send a group text to the girls, home safe don't worry about me. You give your ex a time to come get his shit and then block his number. You drift in the dark, and your phone vibrates against your chest.

M: If you don't feel too terrible, I know a place that does breakfast all day. Best blueberry pancakes in town. M: I'd like to see you again.

#marcus pike x f!reader #year of kisses #year of themed creation #yearofcreation2023

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wolfiemcwolferson · 1 year

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I’m in my feels about Charles’ having a Seb helmet and also in my Maxiel feels because of a conversation with a friend so here is a thing.

Maxiel: The Helmet

Most of Daniel’s friends aren’t here and that’s ok. There’s a party waiting for him in 6 different countries and he plans on hitting them all like some kind of fan service retirement thing so no one worries too much.

But he’s looking forward to Christmas - where he plans on turning off his phone and forgetting about everyone and everything.

He’s currently staring at the Lance DTS meme that another acquaintance has sent him because they think it’s funny. “You love the sport but it just don’t love ya back.” Sure, Danny had made that joke himself, but he was allowed to do that. It hurt coming from other people.

There was no F1 fanfare for him either - the sport he bled for, the one that kept him from his family for two years, the one he’s missed birthdays and funerals and weddings and time for.

Of course, Seb was getting a proper fucking send-off. Daniel was getting a reserve seat and he knew he’d never see the inside of a car at lights out again unless something bad happened, and no matter what, he couldn’t wish that on anyone - not any of these guys.

It’s Charles’ helmet that breaks him though. The helmet for Seb. You love the sport and sometimes it just don’t love ya back.

And the worst part is he had told them all not to do anything. He was a reserve driver. He’d still be around. Don’t worry about making a big deal about it, I’ll be back.

He didn’t expect anyone to actually take him seriously…he expected something.

Danny is tired now, counting the hours until he can bolt. Ready to drink a bottle of wine on a flight and not have Michael glare at him passive aggressively.

Danny’s helmet isn’t special - the same design he’s had all season - because he didn’t want to remember this. But maybe he did and maybe he’s bitter and maybe he doesn’t deserve a full time seat ever and -

He’s tugged sideways suddenly and he nearly loses his balance but then Max is righting him with that gentle smile on his face that he gets for people he actually considers friends. Danny hadn’t seen it this week after everything, but there it is.

“Hiya, Maxy. What’s up?”

Max beams and whispers, “come with me.” And then he’s waving at people in the RBR garage as they walk past them and towards Max’s driver room.

Daniel feels like he should leave. Even if he has a contract with these guys that technically starts in two days - he’s in McLaren Orange and he sticks out, but Max doesn’t let go and they keep walking.

“I, of course, did not change anything. It is still gold, and my lion is the same as always, but -“ Max pulls Daniel through the door of his driver’s room and slams it shut behind him. Daniel has flashbacks of - well, not the time for that.

“Max, what?” Daniel asks, confused and a little tired.

“I know it is not your last race ever, but it felt important to me,” Max is still rambling - quick and nervous like he does when he’s unsure if he did something wrong, and then he picks up his helmet, the gold one with two stars on the back. “You will have a seat in 24, but I wanted to -“

Max turns the helmet around and taps on the place underneath the two gold stars. The number 3.

Max put a - a 3 on his helmet for Daniel.

For Daniel’s last race.

“I know things have been hard for us, since-“ Max waves a hand between them, and it’s met to encompass everything between them. “But you are still one of my best friends and you helped make me the driver I am today and -“

He shrugs and Daniel pulls the helmet from his hands with shaky fingers, placing it back down on the table.

“Thank you,” Daniel says, before he hugs Max, winding his arms around his waist and squeezing him close. “Thank you.”

Max puts his chin directly on top of Daniel’s head somehow and says, “Yes, well you are important to me. And I am glad you are coming home.”

Daniel squeezes Max tighter. Maybe he was right. Maybe he was coming home in more than one way.

#tiredtiredsharl #maxiel #max verstappen #mv33 #dr3 #daniel ricciardo #I am in my feelings #leave me here to die

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theguardiansseries · 16 days

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From the Beginning - Chapter 4: Danny Is Brave Despite His Friends’ Best Efforts (He Also Discovers The Benefits Of Soup)

A/N: When you have your outline squished together so what should have been separated into two chapters is instead one big chapter, but that just makes it read better anyways. Enjoy the "Mystery Meat" episode!

Reminder that updates are (hopefully) every Wednesday and Saturday and that I survive off of comments and kudos!

–

Rating: Teen Audiences

Summary:

Dani Fenton (who is sometimes starting to go by Danny Fenton) is a fifteen-year-old almost sophmore who was just going about her normal life when she figured out she sort of liked being seen as a boy. Oh, then he (he had definitely been a he at the time) got shocked by a machine his parents built to view into another world that they believed contained a world of ‘ecotplasmic entities.’

Danny really isn’t sure how to tell them that they were right and that he was in the machine when it turned on and that maybe he isn’t so human anymore. (He might also not be a girl anymore, but that one was a little more difficult to explain than the fact that he ((she?)) might be half-ghost.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54944266/chapters/139959616

Chapters: <<First>> <Prev || Next>

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Chapter Four: Danny Is Brave Despite His Friends’ Best Efforts (He Also Discovers The Benefits Of Soup)

It was more of an effort to not laugh than it should have been, but Danny figured he was allowed to laugh at his friends’ misery when he was suffering from the same thing.

Sam didn’t seem to think so, glaring up at him and muttering a whisper-soft, “I know where you live.” The words were nearly drowned out over the frenzy that was the cafeteria room, but it still managed to make Danny give in and laugh fully.

“Yeah, you do, but could you even make it up the stairs to kill me? I’m pretty sure you’d collapse before even making it through the front door.” The sad part was, it didn’t seem like much of an exaggeration when all three of them were exhausted, sleep deprived, and trying to figure out how the hell they had been given so much homework when it was only Friday of their first week. “C’mon, guys, at least we have the weekend to look forward to!”

“Yeah, the weekend we’ll be using to do fifty pounds of homework,” Tucker muttered, everything about him dripping with bitterness. “Do you think the teachers hate us? Is that what this is? Or are they trying to weed out the weak?”

“Probably want us all to commit suicide so they don’t have to deal with us,” Sam grumbled, Danny fighting to not laugh again even as Tucker did. “School was not this exhausting last year.”

Danny shrugged, nibbling on a fry, “Dunno. Maybe they’re trying to figure out the smart ones from the dumb ones early.” A glance down at his tray showed that while he had eaten a lot of his lunch already, there was still a good amount left. He was still starving and hungry as hell a lot, but he at least wasn’t scarfing everything down that he could get his hands on like he had in the beginning of the week. “Which means me and Tuck are doomed.”

“Hey,” Tucker frowned. “I’m smart!” Mm… was he, though? Danny figured the thought must have shown up on his face since Tucker looked even more offended. “Hey!”

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, Tuck, you’re a genius when it comes to coding and hacking and tech and stuff, but… You kind of suck at everything else.”

There was a long silence, Danny waiting for a response before Tucker looked away and sullenly started sipping on his chocolate milk. It was way more hilarious than it should have been, especially when he saw Sam trying to fight back her own laughs. It was possible all the homework might have caused them to suffer from a little bit of hysteria.

“Okay, okay,” Sam said as soon as she was able, sitting back up. “Whose house is up first for homework duty-”

“Not it!” Danny and Tucker both shouted immediately, which, excellent. That meant a study session at Sam’s who was rich and, therefore, had the best study snacks. Sam didn’t even look surprised, anymore!

“How generous of you boys, truly,” Sam drawled, Danny quickly taking a bite of whatever was closest to hide the stupid grin he could feel forming. It wasn’t his fault being counted as ‘one of the boys’ was starting to become a pretty good feeling. “Speaking of you boys, Danny! Did you finally learn to breathe between bites?”

“Ha ha,” Danny said with as dry a tone as he could muster, not keeping it up long before he was smiling at his friends’ looks. “I dunno, just… I’m still really hungry, but it doesn’t feel like I’m Godzilla waking up from a thousand year long nap, you know?”

Tucker snorted with laughter while Sam shook her head, smiling anyways, “At least there’s that. How’d your check up with the doctors go on Wednesday?”

“Yeah, how’d your escape from the second half of classes go,” Tucker pretended to frown, Danny rolling his eyes and flicking a fry at him. At least, Danny was pretty sure it was a fry.

“It went fine.” Which was something Danny had already told the two, but, God, it would take someone a lot stronger than Danny to get them to stop worrying over him. “I’m still, you know, not the best, but they’re happy that I seem to be stable and don’t have anything that’s, like, really wrong, you know?”

Not to say he was perfectly alright. He was still dropping almost everything he picked up or tried to hold, but he wasn’t shaking or losing his balance as much anymore. His breathing still wasn’t the best, either, and his heart rate was still kind of trashed, but he at least didn’t struggle for air after walking from his house to the end of the block!

“The only thing that sucked was that Jazz spent an hour grilling the doctors about the best way to follow the aftercare instructions,” Danny continued, trying not to think back to the pure embarrassment at Jazz’s motherly concern and craziness. “Not sure if she’s just that worried, or if she was trying to make some kind of point because Mom and Dad weren’t there.” Ah… and there were the shared looks.

Tucker was the first to speak, as the more ‘relaxed’ friend, so him speaking first made it seem less like an interrogation, “Your parents didn’t go to the appointment with you? Or were they waiting in the car or lobby or something?”

Sam was next, pushing in deep and trying to drive the point home and get Danny riled up into confessing what they all already knew, “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course Danny’s parents would go with him to a doctor’s appointment when it comes to something like this.”

“You know,” Danny finally managed after a few seconds. “This was a lot more effective before I broke down your team interrogation techniques. Now it’s just sad.” Ah, the annoyed, upset looks of his best friends. Balance was restored. “They were at home working on the Portal- I mean, I told you guys what happened, right? The whole self-sustaining thing?”

As expected, Tucker was quick to leap onto the subject of self-sustaining energy, “Dude, I still can’t believe your parents might be about to crack into a source of self-sustaining energy that’s actually, you know, self-sustaining.”

“Might,” Sam stressed. “If this really is running off of- Of ectoplasm or whatever it is, then we have no idea what that could do to someone if they’re exposed to it. I mean, we once thought radiation was safe, too.”

“Damn,” Danny muttered, looking at Tucker. “I think she won that one because that’s… That’s a really good point.”

“But she always wins!” Before Danny could think of a response at Tucker’s loud, dramatic whining, he felt his back bend and his nails dig into his palms at the sudden race of electricity that burned through him like he had shoved a fork into a socket and- “Danny? Hey, whoa, what’s wrong?”

“I-” Danny cut himself off, shuddering as the feeling began to fade, instead turning into something like a low, pouding sense of worry at the back of his mind. “I just- It felt like I was just shocked, just now, but… not. You know?”

His friends both had looks that made it seem like no, they did not know, and Danny wasn’t sure whether to be annoyed or grateful when the bell warning them of their next class screeched through the air. Shaking his head and standing up, Danny muttered a quick, “Nevermind. Probably just the normal static shock.” Except it hadn’t felt like it.

It was more like an exposed wire had been pressed to his skin and then pulled away only to linger in the air just behind him, ready to zap him all over again the second he made the wrong move or choice. It was like an ever-evolving anxiety attack and he was half-tempted to ask Jazz if any of her psychology books had anything on something similar because jesus.

Already keyed up even while the three were just dumping their trash from lunch, he wasn’t even surprised when some loud banging from the kitchen sent him jumping into the air and almost knocking both himself and Tucker to the ground. “Whoa, dude, you okay?”

“I-” Danny cut himself off, grateful that he had already thrown his trash into the actual trash can rather than flinging it onto Tucker or some random kid behind them. “You guys heard that too, right? The…” Words running out, Danny gestured vaguely towards the kitchen.

“Sounded like someone back there might have knocked a pot or something over,” Sam said, standing close by on Danny’s other side and hovering like she was about to catch him. It would have been sweet if Danny wasn’t ready to crawl out of his skin from anxiety.

“I- I mean. I know the bell just rang, but would- Would you guys come with me to just check? Real quick?” Danny should not be this close to some kind of anxiety attack. He had a weird feeling and now he was just feeding into his terror or something like that. Jazz would have had the words for it, but Danny knew enough to know that he was just scaring himself and he needed to calm down. Still. What if it was something and not just a bad feeling?

“Yeah. Yeah, sure. We can check it out real quick.” Sam headed for the kitchen doors with a sense of confidence and purpose that meant no one would stop her, Tucker still sort of holding him up as he followed after her and tugged Danny along. (She wasn’t really feeling much like ‘Danny’ anymore.)

“Well, that’s a fun thing to learn,” Dani muttered under her breath, not surprised when Tucker noticed and gave her a questioning look, because Tucker only ever seemed to be observant when she was freaking out. “Not really feeling much like a guy when I’m this… anxious?”

“There’s probably some insanely long lecture on feminism that Sam has memorized to explain it if you want to ask,” Tucker teased, Dani feeling a little better.

She then felt a million times worse when they all got to the kitchen door and pushed it open to see that the lights were flickering and dimming before shutting off entirely. Dani gulped and she felt Tucker go still, whispering a horrified, “We’re in a horror movie.”

“We are not in a horror movie,” Sam snapped, which was a clear enough indicator that she was just as on edge as them. “The lights probably started acting up and caused one of the cooks to drop something.”

“Are lunch ladies really cooks?” Tucker asked, injecting just enough stupid humor into the situation that Dani didn’t feel like she was going to faint in terror as they crept forward into the kitchen. The door swinging shut behind them made her feel like some dramatic death toll should be going off in the background. “Like, genuinely-”

“Yes, they are,” Sam said firmly. “And also because one of the cooks here identifies as a man, and it’d be rude to refer to him as a ‘lunch lady.’” Huh. Dani wouldn’t have really thought about that even a couple months ago, but that was a good point.

“Maybe he likes being referred to as a lunch lady. Maybe he finds it funny.” Ah, Tucker. He was doing his best, but Dani could hear the way his voice was shaking. Not that she was much better, gripping onto Tucker’s arm hard enough that it was probably going numb.

Before the ‘fight’ could continue, there was another clanging sound, like something heavy and metal hitting the floor. It had all three of them poorly stifling their screams as they jumped into each other hard enough to nearly send them to the ground. Dani wasn’t sure how they managed to catch their balance, but all three of them stayed standing.

Dani hadn’t even looked up from making sure her feet weren’t about to trip over each other again when she felt static rolling across her skin, nowhere near as strong as it had been earlier, but enough to make her snap her head up to see that there was some light in the kitchen.

And it was coming from a ghost.

Dani couldn’t tear her gaze away even as she wanted to look at her friends’ faces to see if they were seeing the same thing. Judging by the way Tucker was now gripping her arm tightly enough to bruise, she had to assume they were.

“Oh dear, oh dear… No, no, this is all wrong.” The actual real life ghost in front of them was speaking and mumbling to herself like some fretful old lady who had forgotten something. It was definitely a ghost, though, because Dani could see through her to the wall of pots and pans behind her. She could also see the way she was floating seven inches off the ground. (Seven? Six? It was enough to be noticeable!)

“Oh, hello, dearies.” Ah. The ghost had seen them. The ghost was now talking to them. “Could you tell me who changed the menu?”

Dani opened her mouth to maybe pray to some god she wasn’t sure she actually believed in when Tucker beat her to it. “Do you mean all the salads and junk that Sam added?”

That was enough to get Dani to turn her head to look at him, shocked that one of her best friends was that stupid. He was even pointing at Sam! Who looked just as incredulous! Yeah, okay, there was no accounting for what someone said when they were going through shock and extreme amounts of fear, but still!

“Oh. You changed the menu?” The ghost who looked like a lunch lady straight out of the fifties with a pink uniform and hair net and gloves and everything was looking at Sam now and Dani was really hoping that this was some weird dream she would wake up from after falling asleep at lunch. Or maybe they were mass hallucinating. That was a thing, right? “You changed the menu.” Oh. That wasn’t a question that time.

Before Dani could say anything, she saw some of the pots behind the ghost beginning to float up into the air, wrapped in the same glowing light that came from the ghost — who was looking a lot angrier than she had a second- Holy fucking shit.

Staring with wide eyes at the huge cast iron pot that had slammed into the wall hard enough to dent it after just barely missing Sam’s head, Dani was pretty sure her brain went offline for a couple of seconds in shock. She then decided she could go into shock when she was dead and shoved Tucker hard enough that she might as well have body-checked him before doing the same to Sam and screaming, “Run!”

It was then Danny who turned back and kept himself between the ghost and his friends.

Let me be brave, Danny thought to himself fiercely, because Danny wasn’t the shy, meek little girl who avoided any sign of confrontation and tried her best to be quiet. Danny was someone who was learning to speak up for himself and was bad at it, but was trying. Danny was the one who was starting to let himself take up space and try to figure out just who he was.

So it was Danny who grabbed the fallen pot off the ground as his friends ran and threw it up into the air at another one that had been flying towards them. Through some miracle of luck it actually managed to hit, the two making a loud clanging sound that hurt his ears and had him hurrying out the door after his friends.

He didn’t bother to waste his breath to tell his friends to keep running, only shoving them forward when he saw they had slowed down to make sure he was behind them. He made sure it was a decently powerful shove considering he heard more pots clanging into the walls and door of the kitchen, the cafeteria now empty with no witnesses which meant no one to see what the hell was going on.

It wasn’t until they were a couple of hallways away, all empty since everyone who didn’t have a deadly sense of curiosity was in class, that Tucker was squeaking out a high-pitched, “What the hell?!”

“Inside, inside, inside,” Sam chanted, jerking open a door into an empty classroom before pushing them all inside and then shutting and locking it. Danny watched as her legs gave out and she slid down to the floor, Tucker not doing much better as he propped himself up against a desk. “That- That was… Was that really-?”

“That was a ghost.” Tucker’s face was paler than Danny had ever seen and enough to spur him into grabbing a chair and dragging it over before pushing him into it. “That was actually- Ghosts can’t do shit like that- Ghosts aren’t real like that!”

Still gasping for breath he didn’t have, and knowing his heart was going way too fast, Danny finally managed a weak, “That wasn’t a ghost.” As soon as his friends looked at him like he was insane, he shook his head. “No, listen, that- That was everything my parents have ever told me about. That was an ectoplasmic entity or whatever it is that they’ve been studying.” Which meant… “Holy shit, they were right.”

“Dani, girl-”

“Boy again. Sorry.”

“Danny, man, I love you, but what the hell does that have to do with what’s going on right now? And the fact that we’re about to die?”

Making a note to beam over Tucker’s casual acceptance of how he was switching between genders like dresses before a party, Danny forced himself to focus and dug out his phone. “It means that we can call my parents and they can come down here and actually do something about it.”

Pulling up his contacts quickly, Danny heard Sam muttering something before her voice pitched up in something between offense, rage, and hurt, “You ratted me out to a ghost?”

“I panicked! I thought-! She looked like my grandma, I didn’t think she’d suddenly start throwing kitchenware at us!” Alright. That was a decent point, actually.

Phone ringing, Danny blew out a breath when it connected and he heard his mom’s voice. “Danielle? Sweetie, what’s wrong? You’re supposed to be in class right now, aren’t you?”

“Mom-” Voice breaking, Danny realized just how tense and terrified he still was, all his energy thrumming under his skin like static before lightning struck. (He really needed to stop focusing on the static and lightning analogies, if only so he could stop remembering how much he had screamed.) “Mom, I need you and Dad to come to the school, right now.”

“Danielle, honey, we’re right in the middle of our work. Something odd is happening with the EMD and we need to figure it out before it can cause any problems. Are you having a bad day? I can call Jazz and she should be able to come and pick you up-”

“You were right!” Danny blurted out, loud enough that Sam and Tucker both jumped and rattled the door and chair they were each leaning against or on. “Everything you ever said about- About ghosts and ectoplasm and all of it, you were right, okay? Everything. You were right and we’re looking at the proof and you need to get down here right now!”

Silent. The other end was silent and Danny felt ready to scream as he pulled his phone away to make sure the call hadn’t dropped. There was nothing but a black screen, Danny clicking the power button to bring up the call. Nothing showed up. He clicked it again, a couple times, and it was like a dawning horror to realize his phone had just died.

“Shit,” Danny muttered, trying a couple more times before giving up and shoving it into his pocket, other hand held out towards Tucker. “Phone. Mine died.”

Tucker nodded and moved to get it, Danny snapping his hand back with a sharp gasp as that same feeling from lunch, that same burning jolt of static, shot through him with enough force to have him stumbling away and looking around the room as if something was about to jump out at him.

He wasn’t wrong.

The ghost from earlier was suddenly in the middle of the room, both his friends jumping to their feet with enough force to send them stumbling back. The look of fear in their eyes had Danny’s skyrocketing, but at the same time it made him feel angry.

“You dare change the menu?! The menu has been the same for fifty years! Fifty years of tradition! Of getting it right! And you would dare change it?!”

Let me be brave, Danny thought once again, watching as one of the desks glowed with that strange energy and light the same as the pots had. Danny saw where it was going to hit as it flung itself through the air on a trajectory right towards Sam.

Before he could even think he was moving, hands outstretched and shoving Sam away and into Tucker, knowing he would catch Sam. He then braced himself to feel a whole lot of pain as the desk flew- Right by him?

Okay. Well. He wasn’t about to question his luck there when the desk was in splinters against the wall and they now had a clear shot to the door, Danny shoving them forward with another command to, “Run! Outside!”

His friends didn’t question it and began running at once, Tucker panting out strained words as they rounded the corner. “Danny, that desk- It went through you!”

“Yeah. I know. Really close miss,” Danny panted out himself, the burn in his lungs starting to remind him really clearly that his doctors had talked about him having problems with breathing at his last check-up. “Talk later.”

“No, man, it went through you!” Okay, they would have time to talk about Tucker’s fear hallucinations later, Danny decided.

“Outside, outside,” Danny said, raising his voice so Sam could hear, who was already making the turn for the front doors. “We need to get out. Lead it to my parents!” If they could get to his house — or more accurately if they could get to ‘Fenton Works,’ his parents would probably have something in the lab that could deal with everything.

“We- We can’t!” Tucker gasped like he was about to stop breathing, Danny slowing just enough to make sure he could keep Tucker ahead of him and catch him if he collapsed as they raced down the stairs and out onto the front lawn of the school. Unlike Danny’s possible likelihood, Tucker did have asthma. “We can’t skip school!”

“Get your priorities straight!” Sam shouted back, enough breath in her lungs to yell at them. It was extremely unfair, in Danny’s opinion. What was more unfair was that the ghost or ectoplasmic entity or demon or whatever it was was right in front of them again, like all their running hadn’t even mattered. It also had grabbed Sam by the wrist and jerked her to a stop harshly enough that Sam let out a short scream.

Danny didn’t even think. He didn’t stop, or scream, or gasp, or anything. He just kept running, fear and anger pounding through him at seeing Sam’s terrified face, before he slammed into the ghostly lunch lady that was looking at them with burning red eyes. He was honestly surprised when he made contact, and apparently so was the ghost since he saw her grip on Sam loosen enough that she was able to free herself.

“Danny!” The warning came a second too late, Danny wincing as it was his arm grabbed that time. He heard Sam scream again, and Tucker too, but it was a little hard to be sure when all of his focus was on the searing pain in his arm as he was lifted off the ground higher, and higher, and higher-! Too fast, this was all going too fast, he couldn’t even think-

“Now, dearie, it’s quite rude to interfere,” the ghost chided him like he was a misbehaving child, Danny swinging almost twenty or thirty feet up from the ground and trying to hold back a scream. The pain in his arm was enough to make him think it was dislocated, all of his weight hanging by the grip around his wrist. “This should fix that, and you should be just fine, even. Just a few broken bones, is all, I think!”

Danny looked up at the ghost who smiled at him like she was being genuine and just putting him in some sort of time-out before he realized he was falling through the air.

For a brief second that had to have been controlled by hysteria Danny decided the feeling of falling through the air felt like when he had jumped from a swing as a kid or when coming down after bouncing too high on a trampoline.

The next second had the panic overwhelm him, a voiceless thought that he didn’t want to feel that much pain again, but it was quickly drowned out by fear that Sam and Tucker were next.

He didn’t give a shit if he got hurt along the way, but he was not going to let some insane research of his parents hurt his best friends. He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t. No matter what it took, he was going to protect them-!

A sudden jerk had him stopping in his descent, Danny braced for the pain. He instead felt a wave of shock at there being none. He then realized there was no pain because instead of hitting the ground, he was floating a few inches above it.

In the seconds before he dropped the last few inches to the ground, Danny looked at Sam and Tucker to see they were stunned, completely still and silent. He also looked at the ghost who looked as scared as he felt.

A part of him wanted to just sit there and just give into the urge to sob in terror, but then he realized what he was looking at. She was scared. That meant there was something that could stop her.

Rolling over and shoving himself up onto his knees, Danny saw the ghost was still up in the air, still too surprised to move yet. Danny, now an expert at pushing his panic attacks away until later, furiously tried to think on what he could do.

A whisper.

A nudge to his back.

A swirl of soft blues and purple that he couldn’t see but somehow knew was there, the faintest, Backpack.

Following the nudge, Danny didn’t stop to think as he ran for Tucker and turned him around before he ripped his backpack open, ignoring Tucker’s sputtering and squirming. Instead he found just what he had been looking for.

He had almost forgotten, but that time at the lab, on the day of the Accident, he had seen Tucker grab something from one of the tables. He had probably been wanting to play around with it and see what it did, but Danny remembered his dad talking about it. It was an old thermos he had converted into a container for ectoplasmic energy.

He had no idea how it worked, absolutely no clue if it would do anything towards the ghost that had almost tried to kill him, but he didn’t let himself hesitate.

Let me be brave, Danny thought as loudly as he could, ripping the cap off the thermos and fumbling to turn it around towards the ghost that was quickly getting over her shock. Let me protect them!

“Soup isn’t on the menu, child.” The ghost was smirking like she was someone who knew they couldn’t be hurt, but Danny forced himself to not believe it. She had been scared, after all.

She had been scared and so, with every scrap of hope he had left inside of him, Danny held up the themors and pressed the bright green button on the side of it.

There was a moment — a second — where nothing happened and Danny felt like his heart was about to throw up. Then he felt the metal in his hands heat up with enough force and speed that it took everything in him to not drop the container, eyes wide as a beam of bright white light or energy or something shot out and hit the ghost directly.

Danny braced himself as he felt the container vibrate in his hands, the ghost screaming as it looked like she was almost being pulled into the thing. He expected her to rip away from it and escape until the last second when both the ghost and the energy coiled back in on itself, Danny capping the thermos without thought.

“Sorry, lady,” Danny said, a laugh of what was definitely hysteria leaving him as he suddenly felt a million pounds heavier, not helped at all when he heard what might have been his parents starting to shout at him. Or maybe it was Sam and Tucker? “But it looks like lunch is over.”

Letting out a breath, Danny tried to figure out just what to do with a container that had a ghost in it like straight out of an old sci-fi movie. He also tried to figure out how he was going to explain this to his parents and maybe even the teachers.

He then realized the black at the edges of his vision hadn’t gone away — had only grown stronger — and that was probably a bad thing.

After that, all he knew was that it was dark and quiet and he was tired.

A nap would be fine, right?

—

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