#The bats think one of them slept with a ghost when really Danny is just a clone au

[help-itrappedmyself]

Danny Punches a Clown Part 6

Masterpost

Danny, after many promises and assurances, lets Red Robin take him to the batcave. They travel by car, and as fancy as it was, Danny was almost scared to touch anything inside it. Red was a much better driver than his father though, so he just closed his eyes and focused on trying to keep his healing up.

The Batcave turned out to be an actual cave, underground, with actual bats in it. He was whisked to a medical area too quickly to see much of anything else besides some other vehicles and a giant computer set up. 

Someone was waiting in the medical space with a tray of tools and bandages ready next to the bed, Red introduced him as Agent A. They were quick to lie him down on a cot and set him up to a heart monitor and that had Red and the A frowning immediately.

“It’s a medical condition.” Danny blurted, and both pairs of eyes shot to him. “My heartrate is naturally very slow, temperature runs cold, pale skin, slow circulation so I can't have a lot of different medications." Not that any medications would really work, but better safe than sorry. Them not working would be suspicious, and Danny does not have the energy or focus for trying to keep straight any real explanations right now.  "It’s fine, I promise.”

Agent A nodded slowly. “Is there anything else we should know before we start treatment?”

“Just can't give me any medicines, I think that's the only relevant bit.”

“Alright, I will keep that in mind. Please lift your shirt so I can see the wound.”

Danny does, and they manage their expressions quite well on seeing it. Agent A goes immediately for creams and bandages.

“What burned you like that?” Red asked.

“Gun.” Danny was starting to slur. He did not want to sleep right now, with these people here.

“A gun? What kind of gun causes burns?”

“New blaster, parents made it special.”

“Your parents make guns?”

Danny shrugs, turning his head to look at Red instead of the far off ceiling of the cave. “My parents make lots of things. They're scientists, inventors." Danny waves his arm around vaguely. "The gun was new though, hadn’t been shot with that one before. The earlier versions were much less powerful.”

“Are you saying that your parents are the ones that shot you?” Red asked gently, taking a seat in the chair next to the bed. “It wasn’t just their gun that was used?”

Danny frowns. “Well yeah.”

Tim is very concerned at the tone he just used, like getting shot at by your parents was normal. “Do they shoot at you a lot?”

“Fair amount I suppose.” Red could see Danny thinking really hard about something. Dany’s head was really starting to hurt. His brain was fuzzy and he knew he should be concerned about something, but couldn’t figure out what. His parents shooting at him was nothing new, considering. “Like, they did it more than Vlad but I don’t see him as often, and they’ve done it longer than the GIW, but since the GIW has started they’ve been about equal I guess. I mean, sometimes all the defense systems in the house target me but that wasn’t technically intentional. Took forever for us to figure out how to get them to stop that.”

“Danny, when was the last time you slept?” Red asked gently.

Danny wasn’t sure if his blip earlier this morning counted. He didn’t think it lasted more than an hour, but the last time he slept before that was before his fight in Amity, escaping through the ghost zone and running around in this dimension.

“It’s been awhile.” Danny landed on. True enough for medical history he supposed.

“Right.” A finished the last of the bandages and tugged Danny’s shirt back down. “Well, why don’t you do that now, while we go and find you something to eat.”

“I’m too tired to fight food right now.”

Tim shared a look with Alfred before turning back to Danny. “Okay then. Maybe sleep first and then eat?”

“I will go start making something now that you’re all set up here Mister Danny.” Agent A states, walking past the medical curtains and shutting them behind him. Red pulled out a tablet and started tapping on it. He noticed Danny’s eyes on him after a moment.

“You going to sleep?”

“Strange place, strange people. Not sure that’s the best decision here.”

Red looked up from his tablet.

“You trusted me enough to come here. Trust me enough to sleep. I will make sure no one but me or A comes in before you’re ready.”

#danny phantom #my writing #fanfiction #batman #dp x dc #dc x dp #red robin #tim drake #agent a #alfred pennyworth #they've made it to the batcave #danny has now been awake for about 3 straight days #sort of #time is weird in the zone #danny punches a clown #dc x dp crossover #alternate universe

[aggressivelyclueless]

scream

in which there is something under Danny’s bed at night

contains: quiet angst/quiet horror

By the time Danny was four, his father didn't even have to be asked to check under the bed for things that went bump in the night.  He'd peer down under the bed, find a good handful of dustbunnies and maybe a lost toy, give little Danny a smile and a pat on the head, and tell him that there were no monsters down there, and no ghosts either.

And every time, tiny Danny said: they always hide until later.  Sometimes the noises wake me up.

Of course, Jack and Maddie knew that there were no ghosts under Danny's bed.  Jasmine had been fearful of the same thing at that age, and she'd outgrown it.

But then again - when Danny had come along, she'd been moved out of the then-nursery and into the other bedroom to make room for him.

When Danny was six, he learned the phrase settling of the house.  He didn't like it much.  The creaking spot in the hall was one thing, but the whole house?  And why couldn't it stay settled once it got comfortable?  Sometimes, he'd jump on that squeaky place five, six times in a row, thinking it would help the rest of the house to settle a little bit better.  It didn't seem to.

But settling was how his mother explained the sounds the house made at night.  It was supposed to be a Real Grown-Up Answer, but six-year-old Danny didn't believe it.  The odd crack of the windowpanes, maybe.  Maybe.  But what about the other sounds?  Humming ones that sounded like the vaccuum cleaner and didn't at the same time; roaring, sawblade ones that would have made him wonder if they were coming from the TV downstairs if they weren't coming so clearly from under the bed; the high-pitched and wailing ones, though they were rarer but they were the worst.

Whatever was making those sounds was screaming.  Could a house do that?

When Danny was nine, he didn't want to be afraid of the ghost under his bed anymore.  He wanted to outgrow it, like Jazzypants did, even though he could still hear the screams rattling up from the dark some nights and he could imagine what kinds of things might be making them.

It was no use going to Mom and Dad for help, though.  They never said so, but they thought he had gotten over it, or at the very least they wanted him to be over it.  If Danny said anything about it now, he'd be no better off than he'd been when he was little.

So he didn't say anything about it at all.

Danny was ten years old when he was allowed into the lab for the first time.  He was old enough now, said his mother, to be down there so long as he was supervised.  Danny knew, had always known, what his parents did down there: they were scientists, and they studied ghosts.

He'd always liked to imagine Narnia or Wonderland or the Land of Oz behind that big steel vault door, or even a Frankenstein setup with things bubbling away in beakers and bats hanging from the ceiling, but this didn't feel anything like that.  The rest of the house was warm, lived-in, comfortable; the lab felt cold.  At the time, he couldn't articulate the feeling it gave him other than it's not really attached.

Watching his parents at work after school sometimes made Danny piece several things together.  He knew that the lab was soundproofed, but he could still recognize most of the odd assortment of noises the equipment tended to make.  The giant waspy buzz of the ectonic converter; the ventilation unit's mechanical drone that almost - almost - matched in pitch to the hum of the vaccuum cleaner in the front closet upstairs.

He asked which one made the screaming noise, but his parents only gave each other worried looks.

What screaming noise? his mother asked, I've never heard that one.

Now that he was fourteen, Danny understood why she'd lied.  He knew exactly what was screaming down there in the lab - soundproof, except for the ductwork that ran along the inner-workings of the house and delivered metallic echoes through the vent under his bed.

Hearing it was almost a relief these days, even though it still made his stomach twist.  At least the screaming wasn't coming from him yet.  That would be worse, wouldn't it?  Maybe one night it would quit, and everything down there would go quiet.

But then he'd hear that creaking floorboard in the hall, the one just a few steps outside of his door.

He used to find comfort in that sound, but he wasn't a little kid anymore.

There was never a monster hiding under his bed.

There were two of them, and every night they slept just down the hall.

#Ectober Month 2021 #Ectoberhaunt 2021 #Ectoberhaunt Trick #danny phantom #fanfiction

[lexosaurus]

Pink Astronaut

This is my secret santa gift for Anectoplasm on discord! Happy holidays, and I hope you enjoy!

Characters: Danny/Paulina Genre: Fluff Word Count: 4549 Summary: To Paulina's dismay, she and Danny Fenton must work together on their English final project.

Read on [ao3] [ffn]

---

It was Lancer’s fault, really. 

He assigned the class a partner-project for their final presentation, but being the annoying teacher he was, he had decided it was imperative that the students  were assigned to pairs of his choosing. Aka, no working with friends.

Paulina tried her best. Truly, she did. She batted her eyelashes and put on her most polite tone when she said, “Pretty please with extra whipped cream and a cherry on top, can I work with Star instead of Loser Fenton?” 

But, to her utter dismay, Mr. Lancer was a brick wall. No amount of wit nor charm could change his rubric, and so Paulina relented in a very much not dramatic final sigh as she resigned herself to be Danny Fenton’s English partner for the coming weeks.

Fenton was...well, he was weird. His parents hunted ghosts, he always slept through class, he was clumsy, and Paulina knew that in middle school Fenton was just like all the other boys who saw her as nothing more than a pretty face.

And that annoyed her to her core. She was a human, damn it! She had her own wishes and dreams and goals in life. Although she wasn’t vocal about it, she wanted to be a journalist when she was older. The kind that made it to shows like 60 Minutes, reporting on amazing stories from all around the world. She wanted to travel, she wanted to meet people, and she wanted to be the best at it. 

She was still a long way off from that now though. First, she needed to survive through this stupid English project with that weird nerd who had gone through a not-so-secret crush on her before.

Though, when she looked his way now, Fenton didn’t look all too thrilled to be partnered with her either.

She would have called it odd, but that had been their dynamic for a little over a year now. She guessed that Fenton finally got the hint and dropped his love struck puppy act. Maybe he and Sam had finally confessed their undying love to each other. 

It was probably for the best.

Fenton made no move towards her, instead choosing to stare dully into his notebook.

Paulina rolled her eyes and slid from her chair. She strode over to his desk, throwing a hand on her waist and looking down at him with an expression she knew would yield no arguments. “Alright, my house or yours?” 

“Huh?” Fenton said, recognizing a little too late that she was there.

“For the project? The one we were just assigned? Hello, Earth to Commander Fenton! My house or yours today?”

“Today?” Fenton blinked. “You wanna start today?”

Paulina narrowed her eyes. “Why, got something better to do?”

“Well—it’s just—”

“I’ll come over at four. I’ll be at cheer practice till then. If you want anything from Starbucks, just text me before then. I know Manson has my number, you can get it from her.”

She left him sitting dumbly in his chair. No one was getting in the way of her and that A, especially not some nerd who couldn’t even bother to care about school.

But, to Paulina’s surprise, Fenton actually opened the door for her when she showed up to his house that afternoon. Half of her expected him to blow her off, just ghost her and leave her to do all the work. And yet, he brought her into his kitchen, got out his notebook, and got right to work.

It was unnerving to see him so studious. She remembered Fenton as a nerd in middle school, but everyone knew about the absolute nose-dive his grades took once he got to high school. It wasn’t exactly a secret, what with him skipping class every other day.

The duo parted ways with a promise to meet up again over the weekend. Again, to Paulina’s pleasant surprise, he actually texted her to confirm their plans. And when Paulina stepped into the Starbucks that Saturday afternoon, Danny was already sitting at a table waiting for her, his notebook out and the project rubric between his fingers.

This much good luck was sure to run out, but Paulina just hoped that Fenton could last another few weeks before he inevitably dropped the ball.

Except, that never happened. Each time they set up plans to work on their presentation, Fenton would show up, he would focus on the work, and they’d part ways with plans to reconvene later. It was uncanny. It was so unlike everything Paulina had come to know of Fenton through these months.

And Paulina wondered if maybe, just maybe, this was who Fenton really was. 

Under all those disciplinary actions, the dropped beakers, the tardies, the unfinished assignments and failed grades, if this was hidden underneath.

So then that begged the question: why didn’t he show this side of himself more? Why was he failing if he was clearly capable of doing the work?

And so Paulina sat there, just a week before they were set to give their presentation, scrutinizing Fenton’s features as he recited a passage from the book they were analyzing. She noted the bags under his eyes, the bruise on his cheek, the way his face seemed to tighten every time he coughed.

He had arrived a few minutes late that day, and she remembered how he entered the classroom, his gate just a little too stiff to be natural.

Someone had hurt Fenton, Paulina realized. Someone had beat him up.

For reasons she didn’t know, hot anger flashed over her. Someone beat up Danny, a kid who was clumsy and could be a bit slow on the uptake, but someone who Paulina had come to understand was a rather kind and gentle classmate.

Yet someone didn’t care.

So the next day, maybe she stormed up to Dash a little too aggressively to demand, “What the hell did you do to Fenton?”

There was Dash, right on queue with his cocky laugh and a, “That nerd had it coming to him!”

“Are you kidding me?” Paulina yelled. “A week before our English final presentation and you punch Fenton across the face? Are you stupid?”

Dash’s smile dropped instantly, “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Paulina, I didn’t—”

“You know how much this class matters to me, Dash! You know I wanna move up to honors next year! I can’t do that if you’re giving my English partner a goddamn concussion while we’re preparing to present!”

“Paulina!” Dash grabbed her arm.

“No!” Paulina ripped her arm away. “Don’t touch me, and don’t fucking sabotage—”

“I didn’t beat Fenton up!” Dash shouted. 

Paulina’s eyes narrowed. 

Dash held his hands up in a surrender. “I swear I didn’t beat him up. Ask Kwan if you don’t believe me. Honestly, I haven’t touched him in months. The—the coach told me that if I did well in school this year, I’d probably get recruited to college. I didn’t want to risk Fenton messing that up. I swear!”

Paulina stared at him for a moment, waiting for him to crack. But Dash’s panicked face held.

“Whatever.” She whipped around. “Tell your stupid friends to keep their hands off my project partner.”

“Consider it done!”

Paulina stormed off, ignoring the wide stares from her peers and the whispers of, “Did she just defend Fenton?”

She tried to block them out. They weren’t important. Her grades were important, her future was important, but those idiots? No, they meant nothing to her.

That afternoon, Danny was early. He was sitting there in the empty classroom when Paulina walked in, his head down to his paper, and didn’t even look up when Paulina gave her cheerful, “Hello!”

Well...that was weird. Sure, a few weeks ago, Danny mostly ignored her cheerful greetings in favor of getting ahead on the project, but Paulina liked to think that a mutual respect, or—god forbid—a friendship had been forming between the duo.

“Oof, cold shoulder? So not your speed, Danny,” Paulina said, plopping down to her seat.

Danny tensed, “I...uh, sorry. I’m tired.”

“Sheesh, alright.” Paulina slid her notebook out. “So we were working on the symbolism slide of the powerpoint, right?”

“Yeah,” Danny passed his notebook over to her. “I started parsing through the book at lunch today and found some good passages. Take a look.”

Paulina went to study the paper, but something else caught her eye.

Something on his arm.

Something that looked like a burn.

“Danny?” Paulina stared wide-eyed at the space of molten skin between his sleeve and hand. “What the hell happened to your arm?”

“Oh, I—” Danny slipped his arm under the desk. “I, uh, sorry. You see—”

“Whoa!” Paulina only caught a glance of his face before he ducked down again, but that split-second was enough. “What the hell? What happened to you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Paulina saw red. “Oh, that idiot! I’m gonna kill him!”

Danny looked up, the multicolored patchwork of skin on his face finally fully visible to Paulina. “Kill who?”

“Oh, look at you! That asshole!”

Fenton winced. “Am I...am I missing something here?”

“I’m gonna kill Dash!”

“...Dash?” 

“I told him this morning to keep his hands off you! I made that asshole promise to me, and I told him to pass the message along to his stupid friends too!”

Something in Danny’s expression softened. “You told off Dash?”

“Well of course I did!” Paulina said hotily. “You’re my project partner! What kind of person would I be if I let you get hurt?”

“Oh well…” A smile quirked on Danny’s lips. “Thanks for that, but it wasn’t Dash.”

“Well then who was it? I’ll kill them.”

“I don’t think that’ll be necessary.”

“You’re right, death would be too generous. I’ll just destroy their reputation instead!”

A bemused look overtook Danny’s face. “Yeah, I have no doubt you would.”

“Tell me right now, Fenton. Tell me who did this and I’ll make them pay. You won’t have to worry about them ever again once I’m finished with them.”

“Oh, I…” The smile fell from Danny’s lips. “It wasn’t anyone. I just...fell.”

“You what?” Paulina’s voice rose in disbelief.

“Yeah, you know how clumsy I am.” Danny rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. He laughed awkwardly, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I just—you know. I was walking in the hall, fell down some stairs, hit the stair rail at the bottom. Just typical weirdo Fenton stuff! Nothing you need to destroy anyone over.”

“Don’t play with me. You didn’t fall.”

“I did fall though! It was...yeah, you know how it is. I was walking and talking at the same time and just slipped and fell! Ah, stupid Fenton, am I right? Just always...falling.”

Paulina’s glare was hollow. “How dumb do you think I am, Danny?”

Danny froze, his rambling stuttering off into a tense silence. “What?”

“I said—” Paulina rose from her chair. “—just how dumb do you think I am?”

“Uh, sorry. I’m sorry. Look, I think we may have gotten on the wrong topic here.”

“No!” Paulina slammed her hand down on Fenton’s notebook. “This little tirade? This sham you’ve been pulling for the past two years? It’s bullshit, Danny, and you know it.”

“I don’t—I don’t know—”

“Yes, you do know! You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Paulina hissed. “We’ve been working together for weeks now, and you think you can just sit here and say you fell? To me?” 

“Well, sue me, Paulina!” Danny snapped. “Why do you even care, anyways? We’re not exactly friends.”

“Because you’re my project partner! Your grade is my grade, idiot!”

“Gee, I’m glad you only care about people when it affects your grade.” Danny shoved his notebook into his bag. “What an amazing quality to have.”

Paulina stepped back as if she’d been slapped. “That’s not true!”

Danny ignored her reaction, instead choosing to angrily zip up his backpack. “In case you haven’t noticed, your boyfriend’s been beating me up since we were five. I’m not sure why you’ve decided to care now, but if you want something to be mad at, maybe try being mad at the years of shit I’ve taken from you and your friends.” 

Paulina stood there seething as Danny pushed past her and stocked off into the hallway, slamming the classroom door shut behind him.

There was the Fenton she’d come to know in high school, this was the Fenton she remembered. The one who avoided questions, who put himself down to avoid suspicion, who left in the middle of class without saying anything, who no one could rely on.

But, perhaps more now than ever, Paulina could see just how much of a sham this whole act was.

Just how much he was using this face to protect himself.

But from what? From who?

Paulina tried not to dwell too much on the bruises, especially since they were gone the next day and didn’t reappear for the rest of the week. Of course, Dash swore up and down that he had nothing to do with Fenton’s appearance, and Paulina believed him. Dash could be a bit bullheaded, but he was still one of her closest friends.

For the remaining week they had to put their presentation together, Danny kept to himself, and so did Paulina. Whatever semblance of a friendship they’d built had disintegrated, and both parties seemed content to let it fall.

It made sense, logically speaking. Paulina was popular, Fenton wasn’t. Paulina was an extrovert, Fenton was an introvert. Paulina thrived in attention, Fenton shied away from it. They were like oil and water, a friendship just wasn’t possible.

The presentation day came, and the two spoke with confidence that could only have come from weeks of preparation. Paulina couldn’t help but glow under Mr. Lancer’s impressed nod. Their high marks from the project were enough to fulfill Paulina’s recommendation to the honors English course for the next fall.

And then the school year came to a close and finally, after months of hard work, they could finally relax.

But not before they celebrated first.

One of Dash’s good friends, Dale, had taken it upon himself to host the massive end of the school year party for the rising junior class at Casper High that year. His parents, being the weird sort of chill parents they were, offered up their lake house with the promise that there would be no drinking and driving.

The teens were ecstatic. 

Everyone—everyone—went to the party. Jocks, nerds, band geeks, theatre kids, every clique was represented at the lake house. And why wouldn’t they come? It was the end of the school year celebration! A time to rejoice in having survived another round of homework, tests, quizzes, and essays.

It was also a time where Paulina was once again reminded that yes, the theatre kids could in fact go shot-to-shot with the football team.

Fenton was there with his little group, but Paulina paid them no mind. This wasn’t the time to be worried about him, nor was it the time to feel any sort of guilt at the way their budding friendship just collapsed. She had her friends, why add another?

And it was just preposterous to imply that she missed Fenton.

Because she didn’t.

And yet, when the night was drawing to a close, Paulina somehow managed to find herself down by the lake where a skinny, black haired teen was sitting alone.

She stood behind him, unsure if she wanted to initiate contact. He’d made it clear from their last argument that he still held years of resentment towards her and her friends, and Paulina knew from experience that all that resentment couldn’t go away in one alcohol-filled night.

She turned to walk away, but something stopped her. Before she could question what she was doing or why, she found herself sitting down on the damp grass next to him.

“What are you doing out here?” Paulina asked.

“Oh, uh, hey Paulina! Fancy seeing you here.” Danny gave her a small wave.

“You too.” Paulina stretched her legs out in front of her, leaning back on her hands. “Some party, right?”

“Yeah, Dale was really nice to host this.”

“He’s a great guy. His parents too.”

“I bet.” Danny said. “How are your friends holding up?”

“Well, let’s see. Star just spent a half hour trying to convince me that aliens exist, and Dale’s currently comforting Kwan who saw a video of a puppy rescue on the side of the road and started crying, so I’d say they’re holding up pretty well.”

Danny guffawed. “No way!”

“I swear!” Paulina laughed. “This isn’t even the first time something like this has happened either. I swear, every other time we drink, Kwan always ends up in a corner somewhere watching animal videos on his phone and crying at how precious the animals are and ‘please, Paulina, can’t we just adopt one?’ He’s gonna be the death of me one of these days.”

Danny giggled, his laugh light and airy. Paulina watched him, amazed that they were able to just start talking again as if their fight had never happened.

“So what about you?” she asked. “What happened to your clan?”

“Sam had to drive Tucker home. He got too overconfident in pong.”

She snorted. “Dash is the same. He’s always like, ‘one more round, I’m gonna crush it this time’ and then twenty minutes later I find him asleep in a bathtub or something.”

“Dash drunk sleeping in a bathtub? Oh, that’s a sight I’d like to see.”

“I can assure you that photos exist.”

“The perfect blackmail.” Fenton shot her a grin. “Remind me to get one of Tucker next time he does something stupid.”

“And what makes you think you won’t be right there on the floor with him?” Paulina sassed.

“Hah! You’re probably right!” His smile fell, and he looked at her questioningly. “Hey, will your boyfriend be okay with you out here with me?”

“Oh, Dash? He’s...actually not my boyfriend.”

“Wait, what?” Danny jolted upright. He spun around to face her. “But I thought—”

“Yeah, everyone does. But we’re not dating.”

“Then why don’t you say something? Squash all the rumors?”

Paulina averted her gaze back onto the lake. It was a gorgeous night. Stars speckled the sky in a spectacular display, illuminating the Milky Way behind them. Amity Park was too industrious to see the galaxy, and Paulina couldn’t help but marvel at its sight. 

It was gorgeous. Vast. It seemed to never end. She remembered reading somewhere that the Milky Way could only be seen if there was no moon out.

Luck must have been on her side that night.

“Unless...you don’t want to.” Danny’s voice dawned a tone of realization. “But why?”

“I got tired of it all,” she admitted, her honesty surprising herself. “Guys only wanted to talk to me because they thought if they were nice enough, I would get in their pants or something. I got accused of friendzoning more people than not. Honestly, it was so annoying. I felt everyone saw me as some stupid object. So when the rumors started going around this year that Dash and I were dating, and a lot of guys in our grade started backing off, I just...didn’t fight it. I thought maybe finally everyone would see me as a person. Maybe people would take me seriously.” Her gaze dropped. “I don’t know if it worked, but at least now people don’t see me as some sort of prize so much anymore.”

Danny was silent for a moment, and Paulina immediately regretted her admission. Maybe it was the alcohol loosening her lips, but she doubted Fenton of all people cared. They weren’t even friends.

One side of her wanted to get up and leave, go back to her friends inside the house, but the other side of her was too embarrassed to move.

“That makes sense, honestly,” Danny finally responded.

A wave of relief washed over her.

“And I’m sorry that there was a time where I couldn’t see past your looks too. I was young, but that’s still not an excuse.” He shifted. “I’ve had some...things happen the past year, and they’ve really taught me a lot about judging a book by its cover.”

“What kinds of things?” Paulina said, hoping her voice didn’t betray too much curiosity.

There went that hand behind his neck again. He was nervous, Paulina noted.

“Oh! Uh...it’s a long story, but I just wanted to say that I understand. I get what it feels like to be judged based on surface-level stuff. I mean, Paulina, you’re really smart. I don’t know if I told you this, but I’m really glad we ended up partners on that English project. I would have been so screwed with anyone else.”

“Thanks, Danny,” she said, trying to fight the blush that she knew was tinting her cheeks. “I’m sorry for being nosy at the end there. I didn’t mean to corner you like that. It was really stupid of me to pry when you obviously didn’t feel like talking.”

“No!” he exclaimed “No, don’t apologize! I was just being sensitive. Honestly, I knew I looked like shit.” He sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “Look, I didn’t fall obviously. I wasn’t trying to play you, I just panicked. But...I’m okay now, really.”

He looked at her, and Paulina noted how his blue eyes seemed to dance under the light of the stars. How he sat up straighter, his shoulders rolled back and head held high. How yes he was thin, but not scrawny like he was back in freshman year of high school. He seemed toned, lithe, almost like a gymnast. 

Danny had definitely grown up in the past two years, but then again, so had she.

“I’m glad you’re okay, and I’m also glad I got to be your English partner too,” she said.

They sat by the lake watching the stars until the chill of the crisp spring air began to set in Paulina’s bones. She left Danny in favor of the warm house, but not without saying, “I’ll text you sometime.”

The summer came, and the ever so slightly intoxicated promise to hang out slipped Paulina’s mind. After all, she had months of sleep to catch up on. 

Fortunately for her, Danny remembered. 

It was a silly text, a meme about Shakespear. Paulina responded with the appropriate emojis, and tried to convince herself that the smile she wore was due to the funny image, and had nothing to do with the boy who sent it.

And a week later, he sent another one. This time, Paulina asked to grab a coffee with him. Catch up.

To her surprise, Danny agreed. They met up at the Starbucks and what Paulina thought would only be a quick catch-up session turned into a three hour long hangout. 

Despite his awkward demeanor, Danny was rather talkative. Especially when the topic revolved around space. Apparently, he wanted to work for NASA someday. He said it came from a childhood dream of becoming an astronaut, but overtime his interests shifted into rocket design and engineering. It helped that—according to Danny—his dad had built the equivalent of an ecto-rocket in his basement.

Paulina confessed that she wanted to work for 60 Minutes someday as a journalist. She dreamed of traveling around the world, collecting stories and meeting people. She explained that as a kid, she used to have to travel around the world for her dad’s work before he finally settled in Amity Park. And although she’d been living in Amity for years now, a part of her still missed those days where she was constantly exposed to new countries, languages, and cultures.

Danny listened attentively, reacting at the appropriate times and pressing for questions whenever she would trail off. Even though he had a reputation of never paying attention to teachers, he seemed to genuinely enjoy listening to her.

Eventually they parted ways, but they promised to hang out again. 

And again they did.

And again.

Again.

There were some topics that Danny seemed to skirt around, such as why he sometimes would show up bruised, or why he seemed to struggle to stay in class despite his dreams of working for a prestigious agency like NASA.

But Paulina was willing to ignore those demons because she liked Danny, and she didn’t want to say anything that would push him away. And, despite their differences, he seemed to like her back.

Summer drifted to fall, the leaves started to turn, and soon it was too cold to hangout outside. 

Which was how they found themselves here, in Danny’s room, laying on Danny’s floor watching Youtube videos, their math homework long since abandoned beside them.

It was a nerdy video, one about bizarre planets that existed in space. One that Paulina would never have watched on her own, but Danny seemed positively riveted at. 

His eyes were bright and attentive, and every so often he’d point to the screen and go, “Look!” as if Paulina wasn’t watching the same video.

It was...adorable.

His excitement rivaled a child on Christmas. And as interesting as the video was to watch, Danny was even more so.

The video ended, but Paulina hardly noticed. All she could see was the grin on Danny’s lips, the freckles dotting his cheeks, the way his hair sat on his head like a soft cloud.

“So? What did you think?” Danny asked.

“Cute,” Paulina responded. “You’re cute.”

Danny blinked, his mouth turning to a little “o” shape as red tinged his cheeks. He started to stutter, to try to brush Paulina off, but she held onto his shoulder and said, “Danny, I think you’re cute.”

“Oh,” he said, his eyes wide. “I think you’re cute too.”

Paulina closed the gap between them, closing her eyes. His lips felt soft against hers, and her heart fluttered in her chest. Her hands trailed up to his hair, and she curled her fingers through his soft hair.

He was gentle, as if he were afraid to hurt her, and his skin felt cool against her own. Secretly, Paulina had always loved that about Danny, the fact that his body temperature seemed to run lower than normal. And now she could cherish this all to herself.

Danny’s hand wrapped around her back, gently pressing her closer. His touch was electric, and Paulina could have melted right there. She pressed further against him, deepening the kiss.

They stayed in each other’s arms, enjoying the moment for just a few moments longer before Danny pulled back. He looked at her, his eyes sparkling, and said, “You’re beautiful.”

There were some things Paulina didn’t understand about Danny. There were some things he was still closed off about, things he didn’t want to speak about. And eventually, Paulina would bring those things up, she would get answers. Eventually, she would uncover all the secrets, all the layers to the enigma that made up Danny Fenton.

But right now?

Right now she was just going to enjoy the moment.

#danny phantom #pink astronaut #fluff #romance #phicc #my writing #paulina #secret santa

[pynkhues]

C&C prompts!!!!! someone is sick?? preferably someone who is a horrific patient and it's early enough in that the whole little family unit is still trying to find their footing together and the whole thing's a mess???

Attempting this challenge has been a real reminder that I am no good at short things, haha, but look! 2k isn’t too bad for me????? 

(I hope you like it 😘)

Set in The Center & Circumference Universe.

(Early in the relationship, as requested ;-))

-

It goes like this:

Elizabeth sneezes.

She sneezes and it ain’t some cute little ladylike nothin’ sneeze neither. It’s some loud, fucked-up-sinus, mucous-mouthed thing that echoes around the warehouse and makes everyone stop working, and shit, even Demon looks taken aback. Rio bites his tongue, gaze sliding from him back to Elizabeth, who suddenly stands up taller to meet his look, squares her shoulders, and he has the sudden, vivid memory of Jane doing this at the foot of their bed last week.

“What?”

And yeah, Jane had said that too.

Elizabeth though, she’s got this indignant edge to her voice that means she’s getting defensive, like her hair ain’t frizzing at her sweaty temples, like her skin ain’t flushed, peaked, her eyes ain’t starting to water, and he’d known it this morning before she’d left ahead of him for school run, but okay - - maybe he’d let himself believe her. Maybe he’d let her bat those baby blues at him, let her distract him by leaving the top couple of buttons undone on her ugly floral blouse so he could see the flushed curve of her breast, let her tell him - -

Rio works his jaw, huffs out a breath.

“You said you were good.”

“I am good,” she says right away, voice a little too loud, like he won’t hear the hoarseness that way and when Rio squints at her, she flails out a wobbly hand. “It’s allergies.”

He pops an eyebrow at that.

“In July?”

Behind him, Demon snorts on a laugh, and he sees Elizabeth’s focus snap to him, her own jaw rock, the flush at her cheeks deepening. She shifts her weight, side-to-side, and that ain’t good either, because she looks halfway to wobbling too far and topplin’ over, but still, she blinks.

Takes too long to blink.

Like her eyes close and she doesn’t entirely wanna reopen them.

She does though, just enough to glare.

“Not all allergies are seasonal,” she says, and her voice cracks a little at the end, and he can see it – how much she needs to sit down, and he’s of half a mind to get her arm over his shoulder and drag her over to a seat, but also is she really tryna play him like this?

It’s the latter thought that wins out, because - - whatever. He’ll catch her if she passes out.  

“So it ain’t got nothin’ to do with last week?” he asks, and shit, it’s like some game of chicken, because Elizabeth firms her look, wets her lips, tilts up her chin.  

“I’d tell you if it was.”

And this has pretty clearly proven she wouldn’t, but still, Rio rolls his shoulders back, and turns on his heel, starts walking again to the meeting room in the back where they’re supposed to be hearing a pitch from some new associate, because fine, if this is what they’re doing, it ain’t no skin off his nose. And okay, maybe they set up in the meeting and he spends most of the time watching her, because her skin’s less flushed now and more paper pale, and maybe she wobbles a little in her seat as she trains glazed eyes on the kid pitchin’ them the idea for smugglin’ hormone pills to Cleveland across Lake Erie, and maybe she tries to subtly swipe at her damp forehead as she curls her hair behind her ears and maybe he can hear her swallowing coughs, and maybe he should’ve taken her home before she passed out, but, y’know, he said he’d catch her, and he did, so he can’t really be faulted for that.

 *

 Last week went something like this:

Danny sneezed.

Danny sneezed then Jane sneezed then Emma, Marcus, Kenny, and Rio was vaguely reminded of sitting in front of the TV and watching A Christmas Carol as a kid himself, seeing the ghost of Christmas past, present, future in symptoms across the five of them while he and Elizabeth both wrangled tissue boxes and kiddie aspirin, cough syrup and glassy eyed tears over Frozen, Frozen 2, Wreck It Ralph, Frozen, Moana, Frozen, Zooptopia, Moana, Frozen.

(He might have thrown the bluray of that fuckin’ movie out before Annie came over with extra supplies and cooingly installed Disney+ on their TV, and shit, he’s had a lot of reasons to kill her before, but they all pale in comparison).

And okay, maybe it was a thing, because they were still pretty new to all of this and Rio didn’t need to be as good at math as he was to know that handlin’ five sick kids was gonna be worse than one, but still. He doesn’t think he’ll ever feel as close to burnin’ a house down as he did tryna handle three sobbing, snuffling kids at once, and they’d gotten well and the handover had happened and he’d maybe never been happier to give a mostly-better Marcus back to Laura and see the rest of them (also mostly-better) off to Elizabeth’s dumbass ex, and piling into bed after.

Him and Elizabeth hadn’t even fucked, they’d just collapsed back onto the mattress and looked at each other.

“If you get sick, I’m leaving you.”

He can’t remember which one of them said it.

 *

 It goes something like this:

Elizabeth sneezes.

Elizabeth sneezes and Rio throws a tissue box at her bedridden form as he works on his laptop in the reading chair in the corner, his own legs propped up on the ottoman he’s dragged up from the living room, as he works on the specs for the associate’s Cleveland pitch.

“Your bedside manner leaves a lot to be desired, you know that?” she asks him, nose so blocked at this point her voice comes out somehow both hoarse and reedy, and Rio glances up at her over the top of his laptop, biting back a grin.

Thing is, she really does look like hell. The bags beneath her eyes are so purple they almost look like bruises, her skin so pale it’s almost translucent. He’d managed to get her into her favourite, ugliest pyjamas when he’d hauled her back into the house, and she looks comfy, between them and the approximately 800 blankets she’d demanded he pull out to cover her.

She’d sweat the fever out pretty quick, and he’d made awkward but proficient work of takin’ care of her – wiping her brow, feedin’ her flu medicine, and making thin, tasteless soup he somehow hadn’t managed to completely fuck up (then again, the only ingredients had been stock, salt and slivered vegetables) – and hours had gone by and she’d slept and glowered and offered frail excuses, and now - -

Well.

“Ain’t what you said last night,” he hums, clicking through the spreadsheet, and he feels more than sees Elizabeth’s eyeroll in reply.

“I said bedside manner, not - - in-bed manner,” she sniffs, before pulling out a tissue and blowing her nose, and Rio glances up at her red cheeks and wet eyelashes and grins.

“Figured what we did counted more as bed-side.”

And maybe it was semantics, but whatever. It was fun in the moment of it, rememberin’ both their toes curled in this carpet, her body bent like an L atop their sheets, ass up towards him, and - -

“Bed-over,” Elizabeth corrects, and it surprises him enough that Rio barks on a laugh, glancing up at her again, grinning when he spots the subdued but still-a-little-playful look in her eye.

“Yeah, somethin’ like that, huh?”

The look on her face is as close to affectionate as she ever gets, and he shifts a little in his seat, feels himself warm beneath it, as she flops back into their pillows, still snuffling. He can pretty much smell the sweat on them at this point, and he wonders vaguely if he can change the sheets before he slips in tonight, because shit, they are damp, and he’s spent enough time hovering over the kids’ feverishly moist beds over the last week to like the idea of somethin’ a little crisper, when Elizabeth suddenly says:

“You stayed though. So that’s - - you know. That’s some sort of bedside manner.”

His gaze darts up, takes in her pink, mottled cheeks, her crooked nose, her dimpled chin, and her voice was high. Light and airy in that way she ain’t, and there’s a knot between his shoulders when he shrugs.

“Well, we got a mortgage now,” he drawls, eyes skirting back down to the spreadsheet on his laptop screen but not taking any of the figures in.

“A big one,” Elizabeth agrees, like they don’t both know they’ve paid it outright, and Rio hums, willing her complicity in the moment of it, because fuck, if that ain’t just - -

Easier.

And he can’t really think about what that means, not really, but maybe he doesn’t have to, because suddenly Elizabeth says:

“I bet you’re terrible when you’re sick.”

Rio jerks his head up, eyebrows raised, and Elizabeth snuffles, closing her eyes briefly, shuffling back into their pillows. The air around her is thick, her body tired, slumped, but glowing with the sheen of her fevered sweat. He wets his lips, works his jaw, meets her eye.

“You’re probably like the - - the poster child for man flu,” she adds, which is a little rich comin’ from the woman who passed out halfway through a meeting. Rio arches an eyebrow back at her, and somewhere in the pocket of his jeans, his cell buzzes. Somewhere outside of here, he can hear afternoon traffic and a neighbour yell. He can hear a lot of things, but he can’t see anything that ain’t Elizabeth, awkward and beautiful and a straight up fuckin’ mess, sprawled out in their bed.

“You talk to every man who takes care of you that way, or just me, huh?”

And her head jerks at that, neck forcing at an odd angle, shoulder shoving up to suffocate the pillow against the bedhead.

“All of them,” she decides after a moment, and Rio snorts on a laugh, closing his laptop and putting it aside. The knot between his shoulders is settling, and he ain’t exactly taking in the specs anyway (he thinks the deal’s a no-go, but he figured lookin’ it over was the least he could do for the kid, given one of his potential bosses rolled out of her fuckin’ body halfway through his pitch), so he starts towards the bed, planning on folding in directly beside her, when Elizabeth shakes her head, pushing him gently away.

“No,” she says. “I’m not - - I - - ”

She’s fumbling for the words, and Rio looks at her, taking her in all over again, seeing the uncertainty not the set of her, and so he ignores her, returning her gentle shove with one of his own and lying down in their bed, and he can’t explain it. The feeling in his chest when she casts wide eyes at him.

“What?” he grunts, and she opens her mouth once, twice, says:

“I - - Dean - - ”

Her mouth clamps shut.

She stares at him, and Rio stares back, watching her mandible clench, her lips twitch, her bambi eyes blink. After a moment, she shakes her head, wriggles down in the bed.

“You’ll only have yourself to blame if you get sick.”

Rio snorts.

“Darlin’, we both know I probably already got it.”

She rolls her eyes then, but keeps wriggling down until they’re eye level again, and Rio leans over, just enough to hook a finger beneath her chin, flick it up over the dimple there, and he watches as her tired eyes glaze over or - - maybe not. Maybe they’re just overtaken somehow. By somethin’ that just makes her look at him in a way he still ain’t used to. Naked almost, open and tired and warm.

“Probably,” she agrees quietly, and she turns into him. Rio’s fingers lift from her chin to brush over her wet lips.

“’Sides,” he tells her. “Where else would I wanna sleep?”

Like they don’t have at least five other bedrooms in this house.

Like there ain’t the promise of something warmer, cleaner, fresher, safer somewhere in this house, but he don’t want it.

This is his bed.

She’s his - -

“Fine,” she says, pointedly closing her eyes, and Rio does the same, and maybe he pretends he doesn’t notice the way she shuffles – ever so slightly – closer before they both fall asleep.

 *

 It goes something like this:

Rio sneezes.

Rio sneezes and Elizabeth fuckin’ laughs.

#beth x rio #my fic #the center and circumference #beth boland #rio #welcome to my ama #mego42

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Bad Things Happen Bingo: Nightmares (Nate/Danny)

I ended up having a sick day from work today, so I had time to write up the second of these... after this I’m going to need some time before the next! But it’s coming, I promise!

For @badthingshappenbingo​, @my-whumpy-little-heart​ requested: For BTHB, could you do nightmares with Danny and/or Nate? It would be interesting if they were still with Abraham, but you can do whatever you want with the prompt. Thank you :) 

That ended up being… a hell of a prompt. I actually got a second request for nightmares with Ryan, so I’m going to do that one twice! It will get a second sticker. (Chronology: within the first year of captivity, but I’m not sure exactly where in that timeline)

Requested: blood stain Completed: puppy sticker

Tagging: @bleeding-demon-teeth​, @spiffythespook​, @special-spicy-chicken​

CW: Implied/referenced/pretty obviously noncon, noncon touching, noncon kissing, referenced evidence of violence/torture. NSFW implications, although nothing outright, as always. As always, keep in mind that Abraham Denner is a bad, bad man. Well, not man… he’s a bad something.

“Psssst. Wake up.”

Nate’s used to this, so when he feels the fingertips, cold as ice, against his forehead, softly brushing the black hair back and away, he doesn’t even tense up. He floats back to wakefulness slowly, trying to cling on to the dream he’d been having. 

It had been a warm and hazy thing, one of those bizarre dreams that means nothing but neurons firing at random inside the brain, the dreams he liked because they were so much better than all the ones about the living hell he’d never been able to fully escape.

He’d been dreaming about the doorbell ringing. The cabin doesn’t have a doorbell, but it doesn’t really matter, it rang anyway. Bram sent him to answer it, and when he opened the door he discovered fifteen cats in a trench coat and black film noir detective’s hat waiting when it opened. 

Can I help you? He’d asked, baffled not so much by the sight of fifteen cats in a trench coat or even that they had somehow managed to find them this deep into the woods, but mostly by the fact that they were coming by so late at night.

Fifteen pairs of night-reflective eyes had turned to look at him all at once, and he’d heard Danny behind him shout, let them in, Nate, let them in!

He’d stepped back and opened the door wider, gesturing inside in that foggy ghost way you sometimes do things in dreams. As soon as he did, they simply collapsed back down into cats, leaving the trenchcoat and hat in a cartoon puddle on the doorstep and racing through the cabin.

They climbed onto the fireplace, knocked books off the shelves, meowed happily and loudly, scratched up Bram’s couch and pulled threads from the woven-rag rug.

A brightly-colored calico, vibrant with red and brown and black and white, settled herself into Danny’s lap where he sat on the floor looking around at the chaos with delight. Do you think the cats could save us? Danny asked him, smiling, as the whip-skinny calico had put her paws on his shoulder, licked a rough tongue up the side of Danny’s face, batted at his hair. Do the cats know the way out?

Nate had jumped when he realized one of them had climbed straight up him and settled around his shoulders without him realizing, a black cat with cold blue eyes that swiped gently at his hair. Baby, wake up, you have to see this, the black cat purred, rough in his ear, in Bram’s sleep-slurred, loving voice.

“Nate. Wake up, sweetheart.” The voice is low, and soft, a breath of cold air against his ear, and he shivers a little, pleasantly, at the feeling. 

“Mmmmn, is Ashley up already?” He asks, and he doesn’t know why - she’s dead, she’s been dead for a year now at least, why is he asking that? But for a half-second, with Bram’s voice in his ear, he forgets.

There’s a hesitation, and then Bram says softly, sadly, “Not yet. That takes time. But look, Nate, look at him.”

He opens his eyes... and looks right into Danny’s face, baffled for a second before he remembers that Danny had slept in the bed last night.

Danny had cooked Bram’s favorite dinner without being asked, had remembered all the rules all day without even one slipup, had made their drinks with dinner perfectly and faster than ever before, served their food and waited to be given permission to get his own, waited for Bram to tell him if he could use fork and spoon to eat with without having to be reminded.

He’d even dropped to the floor to eat sitting right next to Bram’s chair like he wanted him to, with Bram’s hand petting through his hair, Danny’s eyes on the ground and the red flush of humiliation in his face. 

He’s been so good today, baby, and the King always says you have to include positive reinforcement, too. Do you not think he’s earned some positive reinforcement? 

Th-that’s not what I m-m-meant-

No, that’s definitely what you’re saying, that you think he shouldn’t be given good things when he’s good, Nate. That seems mean, don’t you think? Cruel to make me hurt him when he’s been so good.

I’m n-not telling y-y-you to hurt him, I’m s-s-saying leave him al, alone!

No, our pups has two choices tonight: get his reward or I’ll open all the wounds from last time up on his back again. I’ll let you choose.

Bram, pl-please-

I said choose, baby.

… the r-reward.

While Nate doesn’t particularly want to think about last night ever the fuck again (and neither, he is certain, does Danny), he couldn’t quite bring himself to regret seeing Danny actually warm for once, this morning.

He’s curled up in the center of the bed under the layers of heavy blankets, rather than the thin and threadbare things he’s normally allowed on his little mat in the living room. If it hadn’t been for the wrists bound together above his head, nearly palm-to-palm, and tied hard to the headboard, he might have even looked comfortable.

Bram had been on the other side of Danny when they fell asleep but that side of the bed was empty, now. Instead, Bram was behind him - the cold at his back where he leaned over from where he stood, fingers curled just slightly to shift back his hair, gentle and loving. Nate felt himself split like he always did into two people - the version of him that wanted to snarl and push the hand away, and the version of him that wanted to melt into the touch.

He settled for somewhere in the middle and just whispered, without really moving at all, “Is it m-morning already, Bram?”

Sometimes he stammers less when he first wakes up, when his voice is still mostly the voice from his dreams, where he never stammers at all. His dreams never seemed to catch up with whatever had happened to the connection between his brain and his mouth.

“No, baby, it’s like four.. But look at Red.” Bram’s fingers slide down, slide along his cheekbone to his jaw, take hold of his chin, tilting it up a little bit. Nate can feel the bed shift, as Bram leans his weight on it by one knee, the pressure of it along his back. 

“B-Bram, I-”

“I said look. Our little puppy is dreaming.”

Nate blinks the last of the sleep from his eyes, the final hints of the cabin full of cats, the calico climbing up on Danny’s shoulder to look at him with the same bright hopefulness Danny wore, sometimes, before the darkness took it over again. 

Bram settles down behind him, his cold breath on the back of Nate’s neck as the two of them look over at Danny.

Nate hadn’t really noticed it at first - he’d still been too lost in trying to find his way to consciousness, honestly - but Danny’s eyebrows are furrowed together beneath the healing bruise on the side of his forehead, and his already-rubbed-raw wrists jerk a little at the ropes, fingers twitching like he’s trying to grab at something. Nate watches his mouth moving, breaths of air that weren’t quite sentences escaping in occasional snatches of words Nate can almost, almost hear if he listens hard enough, the healing cut on his lip.

The red marks around his neck from the last round of barbed-wire are nearly faded completely, but underneath the thin sleep shirt Nate knows there are more bruises, more cuts. Danny’s back is still bandaged from the drinks incident, and Nate couldn’t forget the way he’d screamed when Bram punished him for that moment of rebellion, couldn’t ever forget the look on his face.

The top part of the bandage, the adhesive holding the giant swaths of gauze over it, is sticking up out of the neck of his shirt, nearly up to his hairline. 

Danny whimpers, softly, in his sleep, and Nate winces at the sound. It’s too much like the dog Bram keeps insisting he is now.

“I think he’s having a nightmare,” Bram breathes with unabashed delight into Nate’s ear, rubbing at his shoulder with one hand in excitement. “Like a midnight snack to feel all that coming off of him. I wish you were already like us, so you could feel this, this is so… does anyone still say ‘jacked’? Or is that out of style now?”

“H-how would I know?” Nate mutters. “I didn’t know what people said before all of this.”

“I guess you wouldn’t. Still... I wish I could read thoughts, I’d love to know what he’s seeing in that head of his…”

“I al-always kind of th-th-thought you c-could read minds,” Nate whispers back, keeping himself still and relaxed under Bram’s touch, refusing to react one way or the other to the hand that runs back down his arm and curves over one hip through the blankets, rests there, like a block of ice that won’t melt holding his body down. 

Danny’s little breaths are faster, now, his eyes moving rapidly under his closed eyelids, Nate struck again by the odd copper-bright eyelashes he’d never really seen on anyone else before, how pretty they are. He jerks a little harder at the ropes, whispers something, and Nate feels Bram leaning even closer from behind him, sees the sweep of white-blonde hair from the corner of his eyes.

If he doesn’t look, doesn’t see the cold ice-blue, he won’t fall in, and he can hold onto the hatred that he feels, hold on to wishing he was somewhere else. Hold on to his sense that someday, someway, he is going to get himself and Danny out of this.

I got myself out once, I can do it again.

Can’t I?

“No, baby, I can’t get into anyone’s head unless I do it the old-fashioned way, like I got into yours.” Bram’s fingers dance up the side of Nate’s head, over his ear, ‘walking’ over his hair, and Nate grinds his teeth together and keeps his eyes firmly fixed forward.

“St-... stop,” Danny whispers in his sleep. Bram chuckles behind Nate and he’s trapped - he’s stuck between Bram’s happiness and Danny’s unconscious misery and he can’t get out of this moment. All he can do is lay still, wait for Bram to move, wait to see if Danny wakes himself up. “D-don’t, st… b’good… be…”

“Oh, he’s dreaming about me, fuck yes.” Nate can hear the smile in Bram’s voice as he presses an excited kiss to the back of Nate’s neck, then pushes himself back up to get a better look. “I love when they dream about me.”

“Wh-who’s ‘they’?” Nate blinks, twisting back to look up at him without thinking. Bram looks back down and their eyes meet. Nate smiles, a little, at the man he loves and hates and cannot resist, and Bram smiles back.

“All of them,” Bram answers, as though that says all he needs to say. “All my boys.” 

How many boys are there inside your head? Nate wants to ask. How many people like us have you destroyed? Also, do you actually understand that I am a grown man? 

Somewhere in him, there is still a man who can think, I wish someone would bury a knife if your goddamn heart and I wish it could be me.

Stronger than that man, though, is the one who thinks, I love you.

“Stop… st, stop, ‘braham, I c’n, I’ll be good, want to be good, I… pl-... I, I don’t... stop… stop!” Danny’s whole body shudders all at once and his eyes fly open, wide open without quite being fully awake, unseeing. He pulls hard at the ropes and hisses in pain as they only tighten even more, dig in deeper. Nate sees the first smear of red just below one of his palms. “Oh god, I just, I… where-...” 

“What did I do to you, Red?” Bram asks, in a low voice nearly thick with an awful happiness. He looks like wolves covered in blood on nature shows, licking their chops after eating a kill. 

Danny looks slowly up where Bram looms over he and Nate, Danny’s warm blue eyes dark with Bram’s shadow as he tries to shrink back, stopped by the ropes, kept right where he is in the center of the bed. “I… I don’t… Abraham? N-Nate, why am I…”

“Don’t you remember yesterday, little Red? You were so good for me and we gave you your reward?”

Danny swallows, hard, and then slowly nods, his fingers wrapping around the ropes like he can find some comfort in holding onto them. “Y-Yeah. Yeah, I remember… I remember now.” His face turns bright red, nearly fading the scars out completely, all the way red to the end of his nose with embarrassment, with shame. “Ah, um… thank you for my re-reward-” His voice cracks a little on the word, barely forcing it out, and Nate has to keep his eyes open until they burn to avoid seeing behind his eyelids what Danny’s reward had been. “-and letting me sleep, Abraham… I’m s-sorry, I woke up, I woke you up… I’m sorry, can I go back to my mat now?”

“Oh, absolutely not,” Bram laughs, sliding back and off the bed, giving Nate a few precious seconds of space and the ability to breathe and warm air at his back, before he gets back in on the other side, sitting on the bed with his legs crossed, looking avidly down at Danny like a child on the library floor at storytime. “Oh, no no no no. Nate, baby, go make us some coffee.”

Danny gives Nate a pleading please don’t leave me here look, then turns back to Bram, searching his face for any sign of gentleness, finding none - just that terrible good cheer. “Coffee’s my j-job, if you just, if you just untie me, I can go make, um, make the coffee, Bram-”

“No, puppy. Nate will make the coffee today. Do what you’re told, baby, I gave you an order.”

“Y-Yes, Bram,” Nate says, standing up himself, guilty as he all but flees the room with Danny’s eyes burning into his back… but not guilty enough to go back in before the coffee’s good and ready.

Yesterday he found something in the back of the closet and had an idea, but he doesn’t have enough courage yet to use it, and he doesn’t know how much time there is left before Bram is done with Danny, before he wants to find someone new to break. 

He can’t kill him. I can’t lose him, I can’t lose Danny, I can’t. 

Do you want to save him, Nate, or do you just want to have him instead?

Does it matter which, if I would never ever hurt him?

As he steps into the living room and heads for the kitchen, he hears Bram’s voice behind him, the slippery-smooth snake charmer voice, soft and vaguely hypnotic.

“I want you to tell me all about that dream you were just having… because I want to make sure we recreate it in the most excruciatingly accurate detail. If you don’t tell me, then I’ll just have to come up with something fun to do to you all on my own, hm?”

Nate hears the rattle of Danny’s ankle chain as he tries to move again. “I don’t, um, I don’t want to…”

“Since when have I given a single flying fuck about what you wanted, puppy? I told you to tell me about your dream. If you won’t - or if you try to lie, you know I can always tell when you’re lying - we’ll just have to see if maybe some time down in the dark will help convince you.”

“N-no! No, I don’t need, um, I don’t need the cellar. I swear I don’t. I’ll be good, I’ll try harder, Abraham, I want to be good for you!”

“Then prove it.”

“Just, um. Give me a sec. Will you - will you please untie my hands, then I can, I can tell you…”

There’s a silence as Nate pulls down the coffee beans and the little electric grinder Danny asked Bram to pick up on his last supply run (whole bean coffee is, um, it’s better, Abraham, this would let me make better coffee for, for you - can I please make better coffee for you, Abraham? please?) , the pressure like the air just before a storm.

“... you’ve got a deal, little Red.” There’s a pause, far longer than the time needed simply to untie the knots, long enough that Nate feels bile rising in his throat at the thought of what might be going on behind him. Finally, he hears Bram laughing, the high-pitched hyena bark he only makes when he’s truly, genuinely happy. “Oh, you’re good at that now, huh? Who says I’m not nice to you when I want to be, hm? Now what do we say when someone does us a favor?”

Danny’s voice, when he speaks, is low and soft, nervous and eager-to-please. “Th-thank you for untying me, Abraham. I can… I can tell you the dream now.”

“Don’t try to lie, puppy, you’re the worst fucking liar I’ve ever met.”

“I… I know, Abraham. I won’t. I was just-... I did something bad, so you said, you said I had to learn my lesson...”

The defeat and fear, the submission in Danny’s voice is too much. He can’t take it. He can’t, or he’s going to start screaming and never fucking stop. This is his fault, for meeting Danny, for talking to him when he caught the younger man looking at him, for agreeing to see a movie together. This is his fault for thinking he’d gotten away, that maybe Bram would let him be, think he was too much trouble to go after.

He’d made a mistake, leaving Bram, and Danny is suffering for it.

And he’s about to suffer more.

“What lesson am I going to teach you today, Red? What did you forget in your pretty little head while you slept?”

“I-I… um, I, I-” Danny’s voice cuts off, and there’s another pause that lasts too long, that Nate knows too well from long experience. His skin crawls, but it’s his fault, isn’t it, that Danny knows the rules? “-forgot the rule not to pull away from you…”

Bram begins to laugh again. “Oh, that’s my favorite rule… What do we say when we break a rule, Red?”

“You say you’re sorry and then you get hurt so you don’t break the rule again,” Danny says all at once, memorized, pushing the words out so quickly they’re barely even separated sounds. “I, I know, Abraham, but it was just a dream-”

“Breaking rules still counts in dreams, little one. Come here and let’s talk about how you can fix that mistake you made in your sleep so you won’t even dream about breaking my rules again…”

 Nate jams the coffee grinder on and tells himself he’s not complicit if he can’t hear a thing over the sound.

#bad things happen bingo #Daniel Michaelson's story #bthb daniel michaelson's story #whump #intimate whumper #creepy whumper #tw: noncon touching #tw: noncon kissing #tw: implied/referenced noncon #broken whumpee #misery vampire #restrained #captivity #ropes #dehumanization #pet whump #nate really hates this one #caretaker whumpee #caretaker