#signal x you

[hellishattempt]

angst superache songs as relationships with the batboys pt 3

this is the final part of the three !! i decided to try my hand at writing something for bruce and duke, even though both are like,,,, unknown quantities of the dcu. i mean, i know bruce, obviously. i own every batman game / movie and this big ass book on the batman. but duke? duke is a foreign language to me. and i speak a LOT of languages. so bear with me on this.

like before, this is gender neutral reader / no pronouns used <3

you can find part one ( dick + jason ) here & part two ( tim and damian ) here !

footnote - bruce wayne. the billionaire, philanthropist playboy is many things to many people, but to you, he's your childhood friend, and business partner. as the ceos of wayne enterprises and inkling incorporation, the two of you have worked closely, especially as bruce decided to step into his role more. having known bruce for so long, you know all about his public persona. he's a playboy, with extravagant and foreign women on his arm every night, and it's never the same woman. you're close enough with alfred to know all about bruce's "sleepovers". but you'd be lying if you said you didn't have feelings for bruce. it's stupid, you know this, to be in love with someone like bruce wayne. tonight, the two of you are hosting a gala for one of the charities you both fund. and tonight, you've had just a little bit too much to drink. "evening, brucie" you slur slightly, a glass of champagne between your lips. bruce was in the middle of what looked like an intense conversation with lucius fox, a friend and owner of foxteca. bruce looked to you, noticing your drunken state, and apologized to lucius. "we'll have to continue this later," then he turns to you. grabbing you just above the elbow, bruce rushes the two of you to a more private corner of the venue. "are- are you drunk?" he sounds incredulous. "i've never seen you drunk before. you need to sober up." bruce reaches to take the glass from your hands. as he does, you lean in and whisper into his ear "i like you, brucie." a giggle escapes from your lips. bruce's face is serious and stern. "sober. up. now's not the time for lies and jokes." you frown. "but why would i lie, when it's so clear that i'm in love with you?" a tense conversation follows. bruce likes someone else. you say, "if i waited, would that maybe help?" but bruce says patience won't change how he felt. someone calls out to bruce and he's gone in a second, his public mask back on. you're left standing alone. you leave the party silently. on monday, you're sober and yourself again. you play off your confession as a joke and blame it on the alcohol when bruce comes to check in on you. pretending you don't feel anything is easier than him thinking of you as some lovesick girl. you have to stop being pretentious and loathing your friendship with bruce. it's okay, because this taught you a lesson: love isn't precious. it's not like the novels, no pride and prejudice at all. so you'll just take the footnote in his life. he could take your body, your soul, your mind, everything from you. every line that you write for him will never be read or enjoyed, so a footnote will do. bruce, being ever the charmer and gentleman he is, asked to take you to dinner, to make sure you were really okay. friday night, exactly a week from the gala, you and bruce have a restaurant at gotham's own vigilantes and villains, a five star restaurant built by harvey dent after he was reintroduced to society. it's the only restaurant that will cater to civilians, vigilantes and the villains of arkham. harvey said he built it so he didn't have to feel so torn between his personalities. as you and bruce are sat your table, the host says she thinks you two are cute. they think you're a couple, so they buy you some booze. you two share the moscato, and laughed cause it's true to you. and you'd be embarrassed of you weren't so pleased that everyone else sees what bruce will never see. you're perfect together, but you'll never be the one. this teaches you another lesson: feelings are reckless. just like the novels, side characters end up alone. in bruce's story, you are no more than a side character. so a footnote will have to do.

jigsaw - duke thomas. duke is so in love with you, it's obvious. he wants nothing more than to be the object of your love. if changing his clothes would mean you like him more, if changing his hair would make you care, he'd grab the kitchen scissors and cut himself to slivers for you. if being polite kept you satisfied, if being less insane would make you stay, then he'd be more like his adoptive sisters, saying "thank you ma'am and mister," to you, for you. as much as you adore his affection and idolization of you, your feelings for him aren't like that. he's your brother, your best friend. he's the only one of the waynes that you feel like you can really trust, who understands what it's like to be the odd one out of the family. signal and psycho are partners in crime fighting, just as tight knit as duke and you are when the masks are off. you notice his changes, and it doesn't mean much to you. all people mature in different ways, so what does it matter that duke is molding himself to be your ideal partner? he's changed every part of himself, until the puzzle pieces aren't him at all. it's ruined your friendship, and it's ruining him. your relationship is on thin ice, and you pretend not to know it. you like the new duke. he's perfect. little do you know, duke looks in the mirror, and all he sees is a jigsaw. you take every part of him, all the things you need. then the rest. you discard. you make him into something he's not. you don't realize it, but you're the one who's made this version of him. it's like duke is your frankenstein's monster, and you're the crazy doctor. you don't notice this. or maybe you do, but just choose not to care. but duke's family notices it. dick, jason, tim, steph, cass, even damian. they all see the changes you've made. they see what you're doing to their brother, how you're damaging him. it hurts them to see him hurt. "all you're doing to make her happy? and still, she doesn't fucking love you?" tim prods. "you're killing parts of yourself to fit her, thomas." damian adds. to that, jason scoffs. "it's clear as shit you're not the issue." dick takes a seat next to duke, gently draping an arm over his brother's shoulders. "if you made her like you, would you even like yourself?" duke's mind is racing. he doesn't want to believe their words. he knows it's true, though, he just doesn't want to accept it. "pointing out all my flaws doesn't help. i'm fine," he bites out. standing, duke pushes out of the circle his brothers have formed around him, not looking steph or cass in the eyes as he storms past them. slamming the door to his room, duke basically falls into his bed, clutching his soft pillows close to his body. his phone buzzes with an instagram notification from you. you've just posted a new dump of pictures of you and duke. "shoutout to my favorite person and my best friend @duke_thomas_wayne!" he swipes through the post, photo after photo, reading through the comments when he's done. everybody thinks you're a couple. that's all that duke wants. yelling out in frustration, he throws his phone across the room. "why don't you love me?" he cries, fingers gripping the roots of his hair and pulling hard. duke thomas is nothing more than a jigsaw of your creation. but that's okay with him, because you love this version of duke. so he'll change every part of himself just to make you happy, even if it ruins him.

#batfamily angst #batman #bruce wayne #bruce wayne angst #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x (y/n) #batman x you #batman x reader #batman angst #duke thomas #signal #dc angst #duke thomas x you #duke thomas imagine #duke thomas angst #signal x you #signal x reader #jason todd angst #jason todd #dick grayson #batman imagine #bruce wayne imagine

[sir-ballister-boldheart]

I would love to include the link to the video but for some reason, Tumblr is goofing and refuses to let me post anything with an external link

Never mind. Here's the link. Suck it Tumblr

Signal boost it if you can so more people know about it!!!

#signal boost if you can #ballister boldheart #nimona #ambrosius goldenloin #lol #ballister x ambrosius #goldenheart #original post #nd stevenson #nimona movie #ambrosius x ballister #riz ahmed #eugene lee yang #gay #netflix #lgbtq #lgbt #chloe grace moretz #transgender

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Danny slowly lowered himself down onto Luther's newest death machine thanks to his bat themed grappling hook. Making special care not to let his heart beat or his lungs take in breath lest Superman hear him and intervene, he used his intangibility to sink into the machine itself to steal its parts.

Yeah, so a full white outfit wasn't the best choice for stealth, but it was better than dressing like a traffic light. Plus the black gloves and boots made him feel nostalgic. It had been only seven months since the accident that took his life, so much has happened since then.

Biting his lip as he smiled as he began gathering up parts and wires with his intangibility and placing them into his bag. Lastly he grabbed the power source, which-surprise, surprise, is kryptonite.

After he grabbed what he wanted he quickly stuck a note on the maintenance panel of the machine for when someone opened it and discovered it now had a large hollow space, then simply sank down through the floor and flew to freedom.

Danny sighed once he was clear. Or, at least he thought he was.

"Young man." Crud. Danny turned around to see big blue floating behind him in all his red underwear glory. Great. "I believe you have something that doesn't belong to you." The Kryptonian said, looking pointedly at the large chunk of kryptonite Danny held under his arm.

Instead of an excuse, Danny got an idea. "Uh, hello? Recognize the mask?" He said, gesturing to his face.

Superman narrowed his eyes, staring at his face for a few very long seconds and just as Danny was about to cut his losses and book it out of there, a look of recognition graced the heros face. Sweet. "Thats Nightwings mask."

"Yeah. Just smaller."

Superman nodded, then asked, "Why aren't you wearing a bat symbol? I wouldn't have thought you were a thief if I knew you were working with Batman." Danny had to fight to keep his face neutral.

"I haven't decided what symbol I want on my suit yet." And that was true. Danny wasn't sure he wanted any symbol at all. The mark of the bat would mean that he belonged in the batclan, and Danny was a lone ghost. A wandering spirit if you will. He didn't belong anywhere.

Some small part of his mind that sounded suspiciously like Jazz said that might be one of the reasons he's been behaving so poorly lately, but he brushed it off. Superman just nodded sagely. Danny doubted he actually knew how Danny felt and was just nodding along to appear sympathetic. Adults lie, and they lie often. Danny kinda hated them for it.

"Well, I'm kinda on a deadline, so I should get going. Crime to fight, goth furry to annoy, you know how it is." Danny said, waving the arm that wasn't carrying the kryptonite around in the air before using it to readjust the bags strap on his shoulder.

"Alright," superdude smiled warmly, "Tell Batman I said hi." Danny grinned back at him as he jogged away, "Will do!"

That went better than expected. Thank you, Nightwing~! The boy thought to himself as he ran off into a secluded area and turned invisible and flying away.

Just imagining Supermans face if- no- when Batman finally breaks and tells the Justice League about the little menace thats been stealing all his and his sidekicks stuff for the last few weeks nearly sends Danny into hysterics.

Danny still has Robins sword mounted above the fireplace in his favorite safe house in Costa del Sol. Red Hoods "favorite" motorcycle was in its garage and Red Robins wrist computer and chest harness thing were mounded in a glass case next to the first thing he stole from them:

Batmans utility belt.

Sure, its a pain to remove all the tracking stuff from them, but man is he proud of those accomplishments.

Still. Its better to leave Metropolis after he got caught by Superman. Its only a mater of time before someone finds out about the old switcheroo he pulled at the last museum robbery and that combined with the bodies of those creepy rich guys he had killed (human trafficer buyers) well, surely Batman has noticed he had been gone for a while and would pick up on the matching M.O. in Metropolis.

Time to bounce.

#dpxdc #fanfiction prompts #prompts #dp x dc #danny phantom #danny fenton #batman #superman #danny being a little gremlin #villian danny #evil danny #he killed vlad but vlad had something set up to out danny if he ever died so danno had to run into a new world #danny has tasted blood and keeps killing evil rich guys who reminds him of creepy uncle vlad #human trafficing is a huge no no to danny and he will hunt you down #danny steals the bats stuff and made them run around in circles. he even managed to trick the bats into chasing one of thier own #by swaping his tracking signal with thiers. the look of confusion on everyones faces when the bat was cornered was gold. too bad he had to #see it on a screen and not in real time #now...what city to hit next?

[doumadono]

Hey, everyone! Get ready because it's that time of year again! Our favorite gremlin Bakugo's birthday is coming up, and since I wasn't part of the fandom last year, I've decided it's time to throw a party for my beloved character!

Here's the plan: I'm creating a quick poll for you to vote on your favorite prompts for Bakugo's birthday celebration. Some are spicy, while others are pure fluff. The top three prompts with the most votes will be the ones I'll be writing for his big day. I'll start posting them on Saturday, the 20th, and finish on Sunday, the 21st (CET)

Please reblog to spread the word! ♥

#bakugo x reader #bakugo smut #bakugou smut #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou fluff #bakugou fanfiction #bakugou fic #mha smut #bakugou headcanons #anime smut #bnha poll #fandom polls #mha fluff #mha poll #tumblr poll #anime fluff #signal boost #anime poll

[lasshoe]

2.06 | 3.06

We good?

#tedlassoedit #tedlassogif #ted lasso #rebecca welton #ted x rebecca #ted lasso spoilers #sorry that i have to make everything about the signal!!!!!! #but what's a girl to DO??????????? #besides point out my silly little parallels???!? #something something missed communications #something something hannah saying they are planets in orbit around each other bashing into each other something you know #ted's face here LET'S TALK ABOUT IT #animlorelaioriginal #1k

[cursedzucchini]

Prompt/idea #6

Y'all what if when Danny's not feeling that good (is very injured/didn't eat anything/sleep deprived) he instead of fainting just... Turns into his 14 yo self.

That wasn't such a problem at the begginjng bc he was short king and well, he didn't change that much.

But now? When he's in college (basically always on the verge of fainting from exhaustion/hunger/dehydration/whatever unholy thing he consumed to stay awake and functioning) in Gotham? When he's 24, and yeah, maybe he didn't grow that much in height, but he lost the baby fat. His face didn't look so hopeful, and innocent and he gained quite few scars.

So yeah, changing into his 14yo self wasn't the greatest by itself. But add the trauma Danny has when looking at himself in the mirror, and overall being in the wrong body (thinking about what younger him didn't know, like u can add angst Abt canon stuff, like Vlad was a fucking creep, pariah dark, or add vivisection and Dani dying or whatever).

So Danny was being extra careful about taking care of himself (he thought, like a liar). And maybe that day he forgot breakfast, lost his pocket money, his card declined, he couldn't sleep because of reccuring nightmares and the only edible (that's questionable tho) thing in his bag was some somehow wrong ectoplasm he stole from some guy few weeks ago (and Danny needed to ask the him where tf did he manage to find such a disgusting ecto. Like not even his parents manage to fuck it up that badly).

So when on his way home, some fucking asshole jumped him, of course he was going to freak the fuck out.

...if knocking the guy out counts as freaking out. And showing some of his more ghostly features out (read show the asshole the indescribable horrors of balancing life and death for eternity and no time at all).

And that somehow tipped Danny over the top. So now he's sitting there, in his now way too big clothes next to the knocked out (hopefully) clown, drawing dumb pictures on his face, waiting for Jazz to pick him up and maybe help him dispose of the body.

(bonus points if the batfam saw this go down and are now so fucking confused how tf did some twink™ knocked out the fucking joker in one punch, and than transformed into a fuckibg child????? B, no, put the adoption papers down-!)

(bonus bonus points if 14 yo Danny looks exactly like 14yo Jason, and they (especially Jason) just see young Jason sitting next to dead? Joker w a crowbar, drawing dicks on his face)

(also the reason why Danny doesn't know who joker is, is bc every time someone started talking Abt joker or the clown he assumed he was something like batman, and wasn't interested in learning anything Abt anything clown themed)

#yknow arkham doesnt sound that bad #dc x dp #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #crossover #dcxdp #dp x dc writing prompt #danny fenton #dc #jason todd #yall this is such a fun idea #it hit me like a truck #i fucking love it lmao #batfam #yo imagien the trauma tho #liek seeing ur young self surviving what you died to #i think jason would have very strong reaction #probably positive like oh thank fuck i didnt hace to fijd his dead body #oh also the yuck ectoplasm was jasons #danny was tired and he felt weird ecto sending stressed signals #he thought it was just some poir shade #so he jsut...... #took it #jason was very confused #oh also i meant this like instead of when in great danger turning into core #danny turns into his 14 yo self #i imagine joker doesnt remember danny or what even happened but when he sees him (or feels him) he just goes #i feel like bats r in this trying to find danny really hard and he doesnt know #yet still manages to evade them #aight enough tags good bye thanks for reading

[wandixx]

Ghost of fries and hero of cookies part 6

All work words count: 14 643

Words in this part: 2 686

Summary of whole work: Duke wasn't expecting to wake up from his quick rooftop nap to some meta kid with fries. He also wasn't expecting kid to stay

Or

Danny asked Dani to stay safe while she was in Gotham. Where would she be safer than under the wing of local hero? And he looked like he needed bad day combo anyway

This part summary: Batman wants an explanation. His kids however, wouldn't be themselves if they did add some chaos

Beta read by @audhumla-sailor though English is second language for both of us, so proceed with this in mind. I also know all of the charaters through fics alone, so probably ooc. Stay catious if it's something you don't like

First part, Previous part

“Signal.”

Duke bit back a sigh as his last hope to leave Cave undiscovered disappeared. He shot Steph message of:

Having The Talk. Come as moral support

and turned around to face Bruce.

“Yes?”

B grunted in disapproving and ‘Signal report’ way but Duke decided to buy some time and answer only questions that were actually asked. He slowly sat at the briefing table and looked at the man expectantly.

Lift chimed and moments later Tim and Cass went to Batcomputer and training mats respectively. Duke was, like, 80% sure they were there to eavesdrop. He knew them well enough. He knew them well enough.

“The girl”

“Izzy?” Was Duke annoying on purpose? Yes. He really didn’t want to have this talk. Like, at all. Psychological warfare it was “I mean, I know she is civilian and you don’t approve but at least she isn’t doing anything illegal, right? Like, you know, robbing museums or killing people?”

Bruce looked repulsed and Tim snorted.

“Low blow Narrows, low blow” Jason announced through speakers. He was slightly winded as if he just finished a fight “Good job kid”

“So you’re listening too, great” Duke muttered under his breath before louder he added “Is everyone who wants in on a show, here already?”

“Give me a sec- here Dick you’re going live now”

“Thanks Babs, you’re the best”

“I know. Donuts, you know which one”

“Of course. Glad we’re finally going to talk about Duke’s kid”

“Shut up, she is not my kid!”

“Steph ETA 2 minutes” Cass interrupted.

At least Damian didn’t show up- as if summoned by this thought Damian stomped down the stares, Alfred the Cat curled in his arms. Maybe others had a point, calling him Demon kid and stuff.

“What is an emergency?” he demanded and Duke decided to take what little relief he could from the fact that Bruce seemed equally defeated by sheer number of people around for this talk. 

“It seems like… oh, literally everyone lost an adoption bet” Babs explained. Huh, so Steph didn’t change her stance.

Damian looked genuinely terrified as he muttered “No” eyes darting between everyone present in silent calculation.

“Oh, shut up” Duke whined knowing all too well his stalling had to come to the end. Maybe it was wishful thinking but he almost heard roar of engine of Steph’s motorcycle. Her presence would be double edged sword but she would help him advocate for Dani and that was more important.

“Thomas, what have you done?!” if it was anyone other than Damian, Duke would call sound he made a whine. As it was, he preferred his entrails to stay inside and since the boy showed up, called by thought, the older boy preferred not to take risks.

“Nothing, Babs is overreacting”

“Don’t deny it. She went about it kinda Tim Lite style but it worked”

“I don’t even know her surname, where she stays or really, anything about her life outside of our patrols, how do you expect me to go about adoption?!”

“B knew even less about me when he decided, yes this tire thief is my new son!” Jason chimed in and Duke knew he was grinning despite voice modulator.

“What from my origin story was lost to make Lite version?”

“Identities weren't breached as far as we're aware. Just ‘came one day and refuses to leave’ part and some light stalking. She was smart about it, invisible, keeping out of sight and to the hot spots. Wouldn't find her if I didn't know she was there”

“She could still just not tell, I mean I knew for years before telling anyone…”

“There is no way. Believe me, she has no brain-mouth filter, I swear”

“But-”

“She introduced herself by her first name,” Duke deadpanned ”She told me civilian names of heroes from her hometown, in context that didn't require me to do any actual research to clue me. I did anyway. I don't think she even realized she did it. If she knew our identities we would know already”

There was a moment of silence as everyone digested the thought of just how gigantic breach Dani accidentally caused.

“Well, it's as good of a proof as we can get for now,” Babs bristled. 

“Who let her in on such secrets then?!” Damian sounded genuinely appalled and Duke wasn't too surprised.

Like on a cue, Steph stormed inside on her Spoiler in civies. Bruce looked about ready to get aneurysm. Duke was a bit glad that everyone was doing such good job in distraction department.

“IT’S OKAY, WHY? BECAUSE I AM HERE!” Steph yelled, jumping from before her vehicle fully stopped. She threw something small in general direction of Batcomputer “Timmy plug it in, I made a PowerPoint!”

Duke felt blood leave his face. He wasn't sure if he wanted to know what Steph put together but he probably didn't. Tim opened it anyways.

WHY HOOPOE IS ADORABLE&CHAOTIC BEAN AND SHOULD BE PART OF THE TEAM

The title slide said, one of the clearest photos of Dani from before she started wearing mask in the background. It was close-up of girl smiling, bits of brownie on her cheeks.

“Was this photo taken with a goddamn calculator?” Tim asked with disgust so clear Duke could taste it. Metaphorically of course.

“Nah, just body-cam. Her powers mess with technology a bit”

Tim still looked displeased at the craftsmanship.

“Don't worry, it's not  a bad photo. Baby Bird is just being perfectionist,” Dick placated.

Duke didn't realize that Damian froze until he unfroze and made his way to the screen, stopping less than one foot away from it. His movements were rigid, his face scrunched with distress. Alfred the Cat escaped its master probably due to hoe tense he was. Everyone in Cave quietened as soon as boy took first step and expecting mood had to run through microphones because nobody from the on-line crowd quipped in.

“This is the green of Lazarus” he whispered finally, sounding actually scared. Jason swore. Bruce and Cass visibly stiffened. Tim choked and he wasn't even drinking. Dick did his whinny breezy name saying thing when he wanted explanation and felt lightly betrayed. 

It was Duke's turn to freeze because… it wasn't. Of course he wasn't all that well versed in the Pit, less alone its color but he did bust quite a few trafficking rings with Jason and he saw his eyes afterwards all raging, toxic, neon green glory and it wasn't the same as Dani’s. As much as he liked English and how good he was at it, it failed him at simple task of describing the obvious difference between each other. He'd have more luck describing tastes with set of color samples from IKEA or something. And really, even if he tried he would lose the fight of competence with Damian. Who wouldn't.  But-

“There is no way she has any connection with LOA”

“Why is that?” Damian seemed to misinterpret it as challenge like he always did when emotions were running high. Duke took a deep breath. Well, it was a moment to use all of his diplomatic skills and speak in the language of the demons.

“I've seen her fight. She would be utter disgrace”

“It does not prove-”

“It does” Duke interrupted with the tone and mimic of person who saw too much because he did ”None of you have any say until you watch a tiny and I mean tiny ten year old tackle five Joker goons like it's a joke, by sheer virtue of super strength and intangibility-means-I-can-ignore-bullets-Signal-don’t-be-such-worrywart. She should get shot, like, three times at least. And she kept laughing!” he was low key wheezing at the end because even after all this time (a week) it was fucking horrifying. Bruce made a huff that meant he was laughing and put a hand on his shoulder as a sign of support. Dick's lighthearted laugh sang from the speakers.

“Don't worry Duke, it never gets better” B said with mirth.

He refused to elaborate whether he meant ‘kids keep jumping into danger like there is no tomorrow‘ or ‘it's equally terrifying every time’ and Duke decided to reflect on that sentiment later. It put some things into perspective. A lot of things if he was being honest.

Also, he was not ready for stuff like that to become even semi-normal occurrence. He was ready to give her all of his Alfred cookies if it could change anything. He knew it wouldn't. 

“Do you have any other evidence that your new acquaintance does not just fake being less experienced to make you lower your guard?” Damian asked warily.

“I had to teach her out of putting her thumb in her fist,” he deadpanned. Several people hissed in empathetic pain. Steph coughed to bring attention to where she stood in front of Batcomputer, other slide of her Power Point open. Duke recognised video from his body-cam.

“Exhibit A” she announced. She played a video with Dani’s first mugging attempt he witnessed. Let it be said, it was a disaster.

“Exhibit B '' One of Dani’s most epic fails at side-kick that ended with her falling face first to the ground.

“Exhibit C” Dani fumbled with zip-ties, looking at him utterly at loss.

“Exhibit D” the talk about her prior training.

“What’s was that sound?” Dick obviously on the verge of cooing when girl on video growled. Steph stopped video.

“Very angry kitten” Tim stated with soft smile.

“Honestly, furious girl” Cass corrected “She was really mad at you”

“Yeah, I know but promise of Alfred’s cookies was enough to placate her”

“You gave her Alfred’s cookies?!”

“She started by giving me a lot of food on a really shitty patrol, had to repay somehow”

“Was it from your share or-” Dick asked like it was most important thing in the world.

“Miss Hoopoe was added to my plans after she picked her new name” Alfred explained and shit, Duke really should get used to how man just appeared sometimes. Jumpscare the original.

“Alfred, you knew?” Bruce sounded so utterly betrayed.

“I have yet to meet her but I was informed about her presence about two weeks ago”

“He caught me printing mask for her”

“About that” Steph clapped and skipped her slide show “Look at thi clueless child with such horrible disguises and codename ideas” There was whole list of every name Dani wanted to try out and photo of her bare face.  Duke kinda repressed his memories of it. It was worse than he remembered.

“Did she really tried kenting that?”

“Got it after her cousin. He used his first name as part of his alias for almost half a year” Duke admitted in carefree tone, knowing it would cause a mess.

“Cousin?!” several people yelled in surprise.

“Caped cousin?!”

“Yup. Small time hero from Illinois. As far as I’m aware she’s alone in Gotham but they’re in regular contact and she has strong believe that he can and will help her if she used her panic button”

“Who in their right mind let’s kid alone in Gotham?!” Jason sounded about ready to strangle Phantom.

“He seems to be fifteen himself. And has anti-meta parents if I’m picking things up correctly. She didn’t mention them much. I highly doubt she has present parents at all, so…”

“What the hell Narrows.”

“I don’t know, it’s just a wild guess”

“Does it call for the rescue?” Steph asked eagerly.

“We’re not going to Illinois to rescue Phantom if he doesn’t ask for it. He has means to it” Bruce interrupted with bone deep sigh.

“How do you know I meant Phantom?” Duke perked up because he never mentioned this name.

“He is from Illinois, looks almost the same as far as I can tell from the photos and they share a lot of powers”

“I didn’t know you knew about random kid hero from other state?”

“He dropped by on few Justice League’s mission. There is still dispute whether we should approach him in his city or not. He was very clear on his opinion that we should stay away. I think we really shouldn’t”

“How you haven’t gone or sent anyone there yet?” Tim teased.

Bruce just stared at him then gestured at mountain of cases they were currently working on. Yes, they were printed. Apparently for man it made it easier to work on them like that.

“Can we focus back on untrained child you let join you on patrol, Duke?”

“You act like I could stop her from doing her own thing if I didn’t  let her. Plus, even though she doesn’t have combat training, she can handle herself well enough. And has this damn intangibility that makes her really hard to punch”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t tell anyone other than Alfred and Steph and I wanted to wait a bit before leaving her to the wolfs”

“The bet”

“Shut up Steph”

“When did you plan on letting us know?” Bruce ignored what blonde insinuated. Duke was utterly grateful for that, he knew he would get lecture for that later but he was more than happy to leave it be for now.

“Somewhen next week. I hoped to introduce her gradually but apparently everyone knew already?”

“Kids tell me things. Hoopoe made a good impression on them” Jason explained.

“Hero sightings on Twitter” Dick admitted without a shadow of shame.

“What he said” Tim agreed “This person from crochet dolls made one for your kid too, so in public eyes she’s our already”

“For the last time, she isn’t my kid!” Duke groaned but as always went ignored.

“Nobody expected old man’s tendencies to rub on you so fast, Narrows”

“Shut up and this is half a reason I didn’t let you meet her. All of you”

“With all due respect Duke” Babs started teasingly “You gave us ammo yourself. You improved her diet, you brought her to The Food Track Of Mental Breakdowns, you teach her stuff, you check in on her almost as often as her cousin and their friends do…”

“How did you hack her pho- No, wrong question, why?!”

“We’re all paranoid bastards, I needed to check out the newest bird. She legally doesn’t exist btw so I suspect some shady stuff with her birth but otherwise nothing sus about her. Comms and trackers for her are waiting in drawer C19. You will give it to her tomorrow”

“Aye, aye captain Oracle ma’am” he joked.

“Wait, you showed her The Food Track?”

“She deserved it” he gritted out.

Before this could turn into a fight or something, Alfred demanded:

“Since we are all on the same page now, I would like to extend an invitation for family dinner to miss Hoopoe”

“We’ll eat it down here in full costumes”

“As you wish master Bruce. Master Duke make sure to let her know”

“Of course Alfred”

And he planned to do that but Dani didn’t show up. He hadn’t thought much of it because she was unpredictable like that. She tended to disappear from the face of the Earth for a day or two and return with tales of her “autograph hunting trips”

But then she didn’t show up on the next patrol too. It was unprecedented. And she hadn’t responded to the check in. Three times in the row. He was getting kinda sick from the stress.

He knew Dani well enough, she wouldn’t ghost him like that and in Gotham disappearing meant three things: getting kidnapped, trafficked or six feet under. To their knowledge, Dani didn’t have anyone who would pay ransom for her other than Signal and no demands were made so the first option was out.

Bats launched full fledged search.

Duke himself found and busted two trafficking rings in three weeks which was around how much he did in two months on a daily basis.

Thanks to Oracle, they found Dani’s utterly crashed phone in the dead end in the Narrows. It didn’t look any better.

Duke really hoped they wouldn’t be too late.

With each day it seemed more likely.

********

Bruce: *wants to have private conversation with his son about unknown child he's been working with*

All of the Batfam: Hello there

Duke: I managed to keep Dani secret my family of detectives!

Everyone other than Bruce: I knew for past two weeks, but goood job kid

Random o Twitter: I'm sooo disappointed with Signal for letting Hoopoe fight crime. She is just a little child, she shouldn't have to witness Gotham's worst

Other Random: Have you heard about Robin????? Have you seen teories that Signal is teenager???? With proofs????? Are you mad at child for not taking proper care of the other child????? That's messed up my dude/gal

Yell at Batman

Signal: You act like she isn't personification of feral cat I try to coax home so I can prevent her from getting in trouble. I dare you to try and stop her

Phantom: I do too, 100$ if you manage. It would save me from so much stress

Random: Now, who the f*ck are you?!

(Guess who never touched Twitter with 20 meters stick in her life)

Next part

Tag list: @pickleking8 @mynameisnotlaura

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dp x dc #dc x dp #dani hangs out with duke #signal got new sidekick and he cares about her deeply #it would fit more in part 2 probably but i forgot about it #Signal to Dani: Hydration check! #Dani: What? Why? Other wh words??? #Signal: I care about you so I want to make sure you're taking care of yourself #Signal: Drink something #Dani: Okay cool here's a proof i'm drinking *photo of juice* #Dani to Danny: Hydration check! Drink something so I know you're okay #Danny: 👍 *sends photo of unholy mix of coffee red bull and ectoplasm with trice as much caffeine as it's legal in USA* #Dani: Glad you're being nice to your body #wandixx writes #ghost of fries and hero of cookies #have a nice day dear stranger who got to this part

[getosbigballsack]

@hajunzi , you're really shameless, making my story into a three part series, word for word, then you gonna have the audacity to say "I wouldn't write incest if it wasn't requested, but something took over me and made me want to write this."

I'm pretty sure you're meant to say, "something took over you, and you decided to steal it." Yeah, that would've made much more sense.

If only you knew the orgins of the story, a one-shot I wrote for CORPSE HUSBAND before I even got into anime, and I decided that I would've have been so much better as a SATOSUGU story and you just stole it as if I didn't spend countless nights writing it, wrote over 10k+ words just to publish this story and went into depression right after because of the amount of rest I was receiving.

You have no respect for our work, our art. And as if stealing and making "MY STORY" into a three part series wasn't enough, you just had to steal @peachsayshi story too.

This is not fair so much time and effort just for our stuff to get stolen. And what hurts is that you never asked, because if you did ask me to use my story, I would've said yes to you and just simply asked that you give me credit for my work. But no... you took it own it as if it's yours.

I feel so disrespected.

#signal boost #boost! #plagarism #if you see this story please do not read the work is not theirs #gojo smut #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #geto smut #geto suguru #jjk geto #suguru geto #getou suguru smut #geto x reader #lets do the right thing

[eddies-house]

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 | Ch. 9 | Ch. 10 | Ch. 11 | Ch. 12 | Ch. 13 |

Smoke Signals

Chapter Twelve - The Holiday Season Begins

W/C: 8.7K

Eddie x Fem reader - Grumpy!Bartender!Eddie x Shy!Reader

"I've got my eye on you."

Say Yes To Heaven - L.D.R

A/N: Wow I think this is the longest I've gone without posting a chapter. I really hope you guys enjoy this one. I wrote it in bits and pieces and read it over several times. I would really really really love to know what you think, this one is so special and personal to me.

Masterlist

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Sugary apple goo.

You think back to Thanksgiving back home, a ruckus constant in the kitchen as dinner is prepared, more than enough food to feed an entire village.  Pots and pans clank together, trays create an echo as they are not-so-carefully placed atop the counter.  Dinner rolls are burned but still enjoyed with warm cinnamon butter.  The potatoes are a touch too lumpy but still desirable with notes of rosemary and an ungodly amount of garlic.  Various smells, both sweet and savory flood the house, your poor, stressed out mother churning out dish after dish, siblings all engaged in some kind of ball game out in the street just after watching the Thanksgiving Day parade.  

You tend to the green bean casserole, an easy dish that you couldn’t screw up even with your limited attention span.  Cream of Mushroom soup from a can seemed so repulsive in itself although it brought the whole dish together.  It didn’t matter that seconds prior it slumped against the green beans still in the shape of the can, nearly gelatinous.  Once stirred in and baked with crispy onions layered over the top, it was a masterpiece.  A five star dish in your book.

It would only be a matter of time before grandma showed up with her famously delicious apple pie, the crust coated in extra amounts of grainy sugar, the dish still piping hot.  And the “sugary apple goo” as you used to call it at the age of three already had your mouth watering just thinking about it, crispy apples so fresh and topped with syrupy caramelized sauce topped off with cinnamon and nutmeg, all wrapped up in a flaky, buttery crust.  

You sigh, piling the apple mixture on top of the homemade graham cracker crust.  It wasn’t clear to you just how lonely Thanksgiving morning would be without anyone around.  Sure, you had Donnie’s to look forward to this evening but until then, you were on your own, the parade quietly playing on the TV though you hadn’t been very impressed with the floats this year.  Holiday depression was kicking in, a kind you hadn’t experienced yet.  They were usually always a happy time, family surrounding you and distracting you from the lonesome thoughts you usually had.  This year it started feeling more like a ton of bricks was sitting on your chest, no one able to aid in providing you with some kind of task such as the honor of making the green bean casserole to ease the pressure.

It wasn’t like you couldn’t just make the controversially delicious dish, you had everything stashed in the pantry.  It just didn’t feel right.  It went unnoticed by you that tears were slowly sliding down your cheeks until a fat one landed on your wrist as you finished spooning the apple filling.  

Again?

In that moment you swear you looked the most pitiful you had ever looked in your entire life, tears trailing down your face silently, all alone, homesick.  You should be in your pajamas playing some kind of a board game on the coffee table in the living room, surrounded by your siblings.  Not throwing yourself a pity party while spreading apple goo.  To top it off, your hands had gotten completely covered, the sauce making your fingers undesirably sticky.  You hadn’t quite reached the point of sobs yet though you suppose if you let the goo linger on your hands any longer you would.

Some comforting folk music your grandpa used to play religiously rang through the house though you felt no such comfort.  Not as much as you’d hoped anyway.  It brought a familiar sense of his essence to you, his passing three years ago not settling right in your heart.  It only made you more homesick.

But you weren’t going to let yourself soak in salty tears and sticky apples.  No, you washed your hands in soothing warm water, the sludge sliding right off and into the metal of the sink, eyes puffy and red but void of tears for the time being.  You’d sucked them back and changed the music to something more upbeat, some Elvis that your grandpa had also engrained deeply into your brain though you hoped the faster tempo would brighten your spirits and ignite the happy memories.

Only, it landed you on the couch in a whole new sea of sobs this time as Unchained Melody lingered in the lonely room.  There was no getting a grip on the gut-wrenching, stomach-aching isolation you were feeling, sanity was long gone.  You were supposed to be trimming the dough that was meant to create the criss cross pattern for the pie, you were supposed to be enjoying your glass of wine as you sang under your breath to familiar tunes, you were supposed to be okay.  

It was you, after all, who had made the decision to move, right?  It was you who picked up your entire life and plopped it right in the middle of some unknown mountain town in search of yourself.  You feared that you were just losing yourself instead, forgetting just after a few months what it felt like to be surrounded by loved ones, forgetting how it felt to come home to a full house after a grueling shift at the local Denny’s.  You smelled of burnt coffee and dry eggs, your hair greasier than the literal grease trap, but none of that mattered the second you stepped into the coziness of the living room, all family dysfunction left at the door.

The tears wouldn’t stop though you still managed to force yourself off of the couch, wiping snot away with the back of your hand as you stared at the messy kitchen in despair.  Everything suddenly seemed so…impossible.  How were you meant to do anything while simultaneously questioning your entire existence, your entire meaning of life?

You had been in such disarray that cleaning up as you went didn’t even seem close to an option, nearly every pot and pan either set on top of the stove or thrown in the sink, whisks and spatulas scattered among the mess, and apple skins littering the floor.  Now you were taking in the aftermath, not even having the finished product to show as an excuse for the complete disaster, even the dough still rolled out on the cutting board.  You had hours left to prepare though it felt like seconds ticking by to inevitable disappointment.  

The end of the world felt like it weighed down on your shoulders yet you did what you did best each time.  You set it aside and pressed on.  It was never simple, weak hands grasping the dull knife, slicing through the dough to create uniform strips.  Motivation was running dry, the desire to grace everyone with the most delicious apple pie they’d ever tasted was out the window, you could only do what your body allowed.

And like every other time you had to pull yourself out of the gutter.  Life began to bleed back into your eyes as your creation came back to life.  Puffiness still remained throughout your face, eyes still droopy but slowly your drive kicked back into gear.  Sniffles from previous snotty tears continued but nothing felt better than laying down the last layer of dough over the apple filling, a quest conquered.  

Finishing off your cheap red wine, you reward yourself by licking off the spoon you’d used for the filling.  The kitchen still required a good scrub down but you could live with the mess a little while longer as you indulged in the sweetness.  Something well deserved.  You didn’t even want to think about the nightmare that Christmas was about to become, decorating your tree with only the company of your dreaded thoughts.  That was a scenario you were not willing to wander into, at least not until it would actually happen.  There was no sense in making yourself live through it twice, your brain longing to torture you with irrational possibilities.

Elvis’s voice continues to carry through the living room, a second glass of wine being poured in hopes of easing your homesickness, attempting to neglect thoughts of what you would usually be doing right now.  It was barely working, only leaving you feeling slightly lazy with a good layer of sadness still looming over you like a storm cloud.  There was no extinguishing the sorrows you felt for familiarity and the comfort the holidays were supposed to bring you.

Sudden knocking sends you into a brief panic, unexpected guests were not in the cards for your lonesome morning that had only served to encourage your crybaby tendencies.  At the very least you got a pie out of it.

The knocking persists as you scramble up from your depressing divot on the couch, a certain urgency waving over you at the speed of the knocks.  They were rapid, quick pecks at the wood, a worrisome speed that usually constituted an emergency in the end.  

Why today, why now?

With a heavy sigh, you swing the door open, glass of half-finished wine in one hand while the other runs down your drained face.  You expect some kind of eviction notice; god knows why since you own the place.  Maybe the check hadn’t reached the mortgage company, maybe it had been intercepted in transit.  The last thing you expect on your doorstep is a wide-eyed Eddie cradling a large bowl in one arm.  His gray sweatpants swallow his legs and hang low on his hips, a sliver of his tummy on display in between his t-shirt and pants.

It’s conflicting.  Do you act concerned and start begging the questions:  Did something happen?  Who’s injured?  Or do you exhale in relief as a tiny smile tugs at the corners of his mouth even in his somewhat distressed state?  It can’t be that bad if he still finds it in himself to smile, right?

“I, uh, I need help.”  He says sheepishly.

Ever since the night of the hoedown, he’d been a new kind of shy with you.  You couldn’t lie and say you didn’t adore it because truth be told, big bad Eddie Munson who previously chewed you out for being so bashful was now getting a taste of his own medicine.  Except you had been much kinder than he initially was, though it was fun to tease him and force his face to turn a vibrant tomato red.  

“Help?”  You smirk, swirling your wine as if you were some kind of connoisseur.  “My, my, how the tables have turned.”

“Bambi.”  He groans, still maintaining focused eye contact with the wood planks of your porch.

“Eddie.”  

It’s said so softly, in a way that reduces him to a puddle, his knees could give out at any moment if you so much as looked at him a certain way which had been why he refused to catch your gaze.  He internally curses himself for automatically counting under his breath, unable to stop himself: one, two, three, one, two, three.

In an instant your face falls, he only ever counted when he was stressed from what you could gather.  It was a learning curve, navigating Eddie’s quirks.

“Hey.”  You soothe, gingerly grabbing his wrist with your free hand.  “Hey, what’s wrong?”  

His curls bounce with a shake of his head, his eyes fluttering shut.  The counting stops but he still comes across as fuzzy.  Disoriented.  

“Come inside.”  You whisper, gently tugging him through the door, your wine abandoned at the entry table in the process.  “It’s freezing out.”

Instinctually he hands you the bowl he’d been cradling close to his body with a wooden spoon sticking out.  Upon further inspection, a mountain of mashed potatoes-or should you say lumps of potatoes are piled up within the bowl.  The skins are still intact, way too many if he intended to make smooth and creamy potatoes.  They’d be much less than enjoyable in the state they were currently in.

“I fucked them up.”  He whispers.

The sight you’re met with is that of a small child in a grown man’s body, his large eyes pleading.  You’re forced to realize that today may very well be much worse for him than it is for you.  He’d warned you that he didn’t do holidays and here he was, a nervous wreck turning up on your doorstep in a panic with lumpy potatoes.  And suddenly you felt so selfish.

“That’s okay.”  You assure him, tracing a tender thumb over his bicep.  He looked so lost.  “Eddie, it’s okay.”  You repeat with a nod.

“I just, I was gonna buy something from the store, and then, I just thought–I dunno maybe I’d at least try.”  He tugs on his curls, a bit too harshly for your liking.  “I don’t know why I even tried.”  He sighs in defeat.

It’s enough to break your heart.

“Eddie.”  

Turmoil flashes in his eyes, stress apparent in the way his brows furrow and his frown lines grow deeper.  His lips are red, most likely bitten, and he can’t stop twisting one of his rings around his finger.  He looks to be as much of a wreck as you felt although the symptoms seem to be much more apparent in his appearance than yours.  Your slightly swollen eyes were nothing compared to his tousled curls, anxieties littered across his face and trembling hands unable to be subtly hidden without the crutch of sleeves.

“I, uh, I-I shouldn’t have bothered.”  He mutters, reaching for the door.

You intercept him, your hand wrapping around his elbow while you attempt to meet his eyes.  He freezes in his escape, your touch rendering him paralyzed, your fingers suddenly too determined in digging into the meat of his arm.  Not meanly.  Never meanly.  More concerned.  Concerned for the way he cowers away the second he’s offered any fraction of help.  Perhaps it’s hypocritical of you to regard him with such worry when you yourself present the same behaviors under the same circumstances and expect no such treatment.

Your expression offers a certain softness that he’s come across one too many times since you’d barged into his life and taken his heart hostage.  You’d never know you committed such a crime.  And he’d never outright tell you of the ache that sat deep in his chest that he had no clue how to satiate.  All he knew was that he could not jeopardize this.  If he could get through the holidays, if he could get to January and you were still around, then, and only then would he be convinced that he had finally lifted whatever fucked up, out-of-this-world curse that had haunted him all his life.

“It’s okay.”  Barely above a whisper, you assure him.

Eddie doesn’t remember making his way into your kitchen, he can’t recall your delicate hand pulling him along until you let go to discard his potato concoction onto the counter and he realizes he’s taken the warmth for granted in a haze of existential dread.  Like a lost puppy, he stares at your fingertips as they linger on the counter while you lean over to reach for an empty casserole dish.  The entirety of your kitchen cabinets had thrown up all over the counters, a reflection of the way his brain felt.  Scattered.  

“Potatoes are actually super complicated.”  

His ears perk up, unsure of how to conjure up a response.  Instead, he raises his eyebrows, fearful of how dumb he could make himself look with just a few syllables.  It wasn’t like him to care so deeply what others thought of him.

“That’s why I avoid them.  Instead–”  You turn around only to pull out a can of green beans and a can of cream of mushroom.  “-work smarter, not harder.”

Eddie knows he should be hanging onto every word you say and usually he would be, he knows.  Except he can’t help but tune into the melody of Blue Christmas that had been echoing off the kitchen walls from your record player across the room.

The damn record player.  And the records.

He didn’t realize how much the records still affected him.  He had his own collection now, sure.  But anything that resembled the essence of his Mama, lived safely and soundly on its dedicated shelf in his room, untouched.  It took him years to rebuild Mama’s collection.

“Sorry can we-”  He makes his way toward the record player, his face contorted nearly painfully before lifting the needle.  “I just-I can’t think.”

Your motions were paused, can opener halfway through the can of beans as your eyes meet him with questions splayed across your face.  You don’t ask them.  An understanding smile works its way across your lips and god, he doesn’t know why you’re so patient with him after he stepped into your house and suddenly had the uncontrollable urge to shut off your music.  As he strides back into the kitchen, a series of apologies haven't even left his mouth and yet-

“So…Green Bean Casserole.”  You state, fingers tapping against the tin of each can.  “And Sugary Apple Goo.”  A vague gesture toward the uncooked pie.  “Kind of a…weird duo.  Or it will be if I actually get it in the oven-”

“Sorry, what?”  

“Apple pie.  The apple pie.  At home we just call it sugary apple goo, don’t ask why it’s just–it’s just a thing we do.”  You clarify, shoving the dessert into the comforting warmth of the oven, shivering at the sensation as goosebumps begin to prick your skin.

“Apple goo.”  He repeats.  A raised brow disappearing beyond his messy bangs.

Eddie almost forgets the reason why he’d been in such disarray, almost forgets why he even bothered knocking on your door in the first place, only remembers the fact that he was in a panicked state.

“Yeah.”  You sigh.

You busy yourself with slopping the now drained green beans into a nearby glass bowl.  Your blotchy skin and puffy eyes catch in the stream of sunlight, the kitchen window betraying you as it showcases your true state.  Avoiding those large brown eyes is the best you can do, the theory that if you can’t see him he can’t see you dumbly being put to use no matter how aware you are that it makes no sense.  Maybe if you act “okay enough”, he’ll chalk it up to the common cold, placing the responsibility for your rudolph-like nose on the yearly infection.

What you fail to realize is that by this point, he’s become too familiar with your teary eyes and sad worry lines that only seemed prominent in your times of distress.  Times that he had regretfully been the cause of previously.  Words can’t escape his practically sewn-shut-mouth, all sounds dying long before forming on his tongue.  It’s impossible to create comfort when he himself has trouble doing so for himself.  How could he possibly offer such comfort to someone who deserved kinder words from someone of a higher regard?

“Here, dump this in and mix.”  You instruct, forcing a can of cream of mushroom and a wooden spoon in his hands, yanking him out of his mind.

There’s no room for protest, not that he even intended to.  Not when you’re standing there with the ghost of tear tracks down your cheeks.  Not when you’re this kind.  Not when you’re you.  

“Okay.”  He mutters, a disgusting sound filling his ears from the lumpy soup falling into the bowl.

“After that, pour it in here.”  You place a ceramic casserole dish to his right, the dish nearly too large to fit on the cluttered counter though you’re too occupied with tidying up other parts of the kitchen to bother.

“Got it.”

Eddie Munson absolutely hates Thanksgiving.  But he doesn’t mind it so much when you’re rustling around behind him, a silent conversation hanging in the air that neither of you are alone in your holiday sorrows, whatever they may be.

You don’t ask why he continues counting under his breath behind you or why his hands are shaking.

And he doesn’t ask why tears linger in your eyes or why you pause to regain your composure after dropping a pan a bit too loudly for your liking, your lip wobbling.

Because the collective understanding is that neither of you is okay.  And maybe that’s okay.

–

“Careful, the bottom is–”

“Shit!”

“-hot.”

A ringed hand waves around in an effort to rid it of the burning sensation caused by the bottom of the piping hot casserole dish.  Eddie releases a series of curses, the side of the dish pushed against his chest as he balances it between his body and his single arm protected by one of your generously donated dish rags.  Your wide eyes caution him in his balancing act, a perfectly crafted green bean casserole at risk due to his negligence as he had taken the liberty of knocking on the door.

“What the fuck, how can fuckin’ beans be so goddamn hot?”  Brown eyes nearly roll into the back of his head, his fingertips more than likely singed an angry red.

It’s no laughing matter, not according to the scowl that makes its way across his handsome features but you can’t stop the pull of your lips from forming a large grin, giggles caught in the back of your throat.  His irritation disappears just as quickly as it came, harsh edges blurring into softness at the sight of your puffed out cheeks, inflated due to the humor just dying to crawl out of your mouth.

“Oh, shut up.”  A nudge of his shoulder against yours has you shaking your head, laughter finally escaping your perfectly glossed lips.

He could write paragraphs about them if it didn’t seem so creepy and stalkerish.  So he allowed himself the tiniest of glances, only hoping to paint the full picture in his head ever since you’d quickly puckered your lips in front of your mirror at home to complete your finishing touches while he viewed from the porch where he waited in his black button up and nicest pair of jeans.  He’d never been so jealous over a tube of lipgloss.  In fact, he’d never in his life been jealous of a tube of lipgloss and he never felt like more of a loser than in that moment.

“I told you.”  You mutter, an endearing side eye delivered right into his line of sight.  It was something almost child-like, something innocent and not at all like what he’d ever really been on the receiving end of.  Maybe because there was a certain flirtiness you were hinting at although he was no expert and had no right to assume.

“I told you.”  He mumbles back with a higher pitch, mocking you.

You turn toward him, a comeback on the tip of your tongue when his own tongue interrupts with a taunt, peeking out between his lips swiftly, his nose scrunching up meanly before his full attention is back on the door as it creaks open.  And then, a quick wink that only you yourself were a witness to, only creating a stir in your brain as you decipher that no one else would be able to confirm the action.

“Hey!”  Donnie greets, arms flung up in excitement as she ushers you into her welcoming home, smells infiltrating your nose, sweet and savory galore.

Before either you or Eddie can even get a simple “hello” in, she’s talking your ear off, something about who all is already in the living room, how far along the turkey is, where the bathroom is, all while guiding you into the spacious dining room.  She must have set out her fine china, the gorgeous dishes set all around the table lined with champagne colored silver on the edges of the plates.  Two tables had been pushed together, creating enough space for the large number of guests expected.  In the center sat an exquisite arrangement of various orange-hued flowers and some greenery.  

The house was comforting; not too large and not too small, a two story dream that no doubt had acres of backyard.  The Christmas tree had already been set up and decorated, the branches and lights hinting at you from the other room where men roared with laughter, a football game blaring from the TV that contrasted with the familiar voice of Frank Sinatra coming from the stereo.  Combined turkey and Santa decorations adorned the interior everywhere you glanced, surfaces that would usually be empty year around were occupied with tacky little figurines that were more endearing than anything.  Plastic garland traced the rails of the stairs, littered in fake plastic cranberries, the front room being far more grand than your entire home as you inspected it through the archway of the dining room.

Suddenly your nerves were simmering down, a familiar feeling nestling into the bottom of your chest as your shoulders fell from their tensed position, your fingers letting up on their grip on the pie tin you clutched so desperately.  Women squealed from the kitchen, a series of “oh my god”s erupting into the rest of the house, some kind of juicy gossip initiating several gasps as well as some laughter.  Your homesickness began to lie dormant, warmth overtaking you as Donnie went on and on about her family members, which ones to avoid sitting next to at all costs and warning you of the aunties that would corner you and beg for details on your love life.

“Just pretend I’m calling you and run as fast as you can in the other direction.”  She advises.  “And if that doesn’t work, tell ‘em you had too much wine and that it’s making a reappearance.  They’ll scatter like flies.”

You laugh along, taking mental notes as she grabs the pie from you, complimenting the smell as she sets it among several other desserts, a whole table dedicated only to sweets.  When she goes to grab the green bean casserole from Eddie, you can’t help but pause and watch as his doe eyes trace his surroundings, a clearly unfamiliar environment to him.  There’s uncertainty dripping from his demeanor, his single finger tapping against the dish:  One, two, three.  One, two, three.  One, two, three.

“Green bean casserole-Eddie, do you know how many green bean casserole we’ve got?  Like you all read each other’s mind, I swear.”  Donnie jokes.

“It’s-um, it’s hot.”  He cautions her.

Sauntering toward the main table, Donnie proudly sets it on top of a place mat to protect the wood from the heat.  Eddie doesn’t budge, seemingly glued to the carpet, his hands still lingering in the air like he had still been holding the dish.

“You okay?”  You mouth to him, looking up into his worried eyes, only hoping to soothe the crease in between his eyebrows.

He nods though you suspect he’s being a bit dishonest.  

“Oh, c’mon Eddie!  You know I’m just pullin’ your leg.”  Donnie reassures, a heavy hand falling against his shoulder.  “Shoot, I have to go check on the oven.  Yell for me if you need anything, both of you, okay?”  

“Sure.”  You mumble.  “Thank you.”

“There’s a fully stocked bar right over there, help yourselves.”  She calls as she backs herself up toward the kitchen.  “But don’t go too crazy.”  She sends a knowing glance, recalling both of your tendencies to take on more than you can handle.

“Why don’t we get some air?”  You suggest, unable to comprehend exactly just what was happening in Eddie’s mind although you knew enough to understand that he was miles outside of his comfort zone.

“No, no.  I’m good.”  A cleared throat doesn’t reassure you enough but you let it go for the time being.  Prying wasn’t going to help.  “”M gonna get a beer.”  He murmurs, chain jingling from his belt as he makes his way toward what you can only assume is the kitchen where Donnie had just disappeared to.

As pathetic as it seemed, you weren’t going to allow yourself to wander around alone, vulnerable to various conversations trapping you in small talk with strangers: an absolute nightmare.  Timidly, you follow behind Eddie at a safe distance, holding your breath as you take in the new room full of busy women and many glasses of wine.  The smell of gravy heavily lingers, a tinge of the sourly sweet alcohol peeking through as you release your breath and inhale finally.  

And then-they were all over him.  Sweet older women, ranging from around fifty plus years, all doting on him, cooing at him while complimenting how tall he is and his handsome features.  It only forces you to lean your hip against the counter and take in the most captivating scene you’d ever witnessed.  His cheeks redden, his entire face matching shortly after as he nods in response, small “thank you”s sneaking past his lips with a sheepish grin threatening to spread across his face, dimples prominent.  It’s clear he doesn’t know what to do with the attention, has no recognition of the power he currently holds.

“Is this one yours?!”  One woman shrieks, taking your hands in her bony ones.

“Oh-”

“You’re so lucky, he’s such a looker!”  Another chimes in.

“We’re not-”

“You better hope he holds onto all that hair throughout the years.”  A third nods.

Eddie’s face has never been redder, crimson painting his usually pale skin, a beer pinched in between his fingers as he avoids every single eye in the room.  You can only imagine the look on your own face, maybe slightly mortified with a hint of pink pulling at your cheeks due to the unnecessary attention.

“Alright, alright.”  Donnie interjects.  “Enough, you’re gonna scare ‘em away before they’ve even had a bite to eat!”  She waves her hands around, dramatics on full display as she shoos them away like pigeons.

“Thank you.”  You whisper, eyes large and surprised.

“Run, run.”  Donnie displays wide eyes, gently shoving you both out of the kitchen.

–

Throughout the evening, you kept Eddie in your peripheral.  Sure, he was grown and fully capable of taking care of himself but it didn’t worry you any less when holidays weren’t necessarily his favorite thing.  Anxieties lurked in the back of your mind the second he started counting earlier, never once fading away no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself that he was fine, now bantering back and forth with Sam.

“That Steve kid really can’t dance.”  Nathan laughs, pulling you back into the initial conversation you were having, perched on the couch with a glass of wine set in front of you on the coffee table courtesy of Donnie’s excellent hosting skills.

“Well that’s why he excused himself off the dancefloor.”  You softly smile, earning another hearty laugh from the man.

“Hey, but Eddie’s no better.”  He jokes, taking a swig of his beer.  “Looked like a damn giraffe stumbling over his own legs.”

“I wasn’t very coordinated either!”  You defend.  “We were a hot mess.”  You bury your face in your hands.

“Yeah, I bet Eddie thought you were hot.”

The recliner adjacent to you creaks beneath Jett as he makes himself comfortable, slouching with a beer in his hand.

“Whoa.”  Nathan leans forward, ready to reprimand him.  “What-”

“That’s okay.”  You speak softly, your hand covering the older man’s as an act of keeping the peace, something you did best.  Several seconds of contemplation and a glance across the room toward Eddie change your mind.  

“Actually-it’s not.”  You turn your body toward Jett, a man–child before your eyes that refused to even look at you after his comment.  Your hands shake and your cheeks heat with embarrassment, chalking your sudden confidence up to the glass and a half of wine you indulged in.  

“What?”  Jett furrows his brows, examining his beer far too aggressively as a means to avoid you.

“It’s not okay.”  You whisper, a wimpy excuse of a defense.

“What’s gotten into you, boy?”  Nathan scolds through gritted teeth.

Jett’s nearly-black eyes resemble something opposite in comparison to the warmth in those across the room currently harboring a twinkle in an engaged conversation.  The boy is unable to get a word in as you quietly begin to address him.

“Look, I’m sorry if I did something wrong.”  You regret the tremble in your tone, confrontation was well out of your comfort zone, especially with someone who had been so hostile for no reason.  It wasn’t in your DNA to be the “bad guy” even when it would benefit your wellbeing.

Something in your words softens Jett’s eyes, pulls a piece of him back into reality.  You weren’t terrorizing him and he couldn’t seem to grasp that ever since that night you had argued with Eddie behind the bar.  And you hadn’t spoken a word out of line but you weren’t clueless.  Clearly he had an agenda against you and Eddie, it never left your mind since Eddie mentioned that Jett got all over-protective suddenly that night and took it out on him.  But what could you do when all he did was puff out his chest rather than have a decent conversation?  His frayed emotions were not your responsibility, you owed him nothing if he was going to insist on acting like a toddler in adult situations.  You suppose some of it could be due to his lack of years behind yourself and Eddie, Jett still a teenager, almost twenty whereas you had been in your twenties for a few years now.  It wasn’t an excuse, just your brain attempting to work out his logic.

“You didn’t–you didn’t do anything wrong.”  He sighs, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

You don’t offer any words.  Only an expectant look.  Expecting of some kind of explanation as to why he’d been acting so cruel.  And as if the universe decided you didn’t live in enough anguish with your homesickness that morning paired with the current unwanted confrontation, Eddie’s eyes met yours for a brief moment before darting away, a deep sigh and suddenly slouching shoulders clearly indicating some kind of defeat before he quietly stepped out of the room.

“Can we get into this another time?”

You don’t wait for a response, excusing yourself to slip out of the room and follow the trail of cold out the front door, the chill seeping into your bones as your cradle your arms close to yourself.  The porch is spacious, something you hadn’t taken notice of earlier when arriving.  To your left, Eddie sits on a wooden bench with the family name “Scott” carved into it.  A cigarette takes its place between his fingers, his lighter flickering while he lets out a frustrated groan.  He places the stick between his lips and cups the flame to hide it from the wind, finally succeeding in lighting it, puffs of smoke escaping through the corners of his mouth.

“I’m not fragile, Bambi.  Stop following me around.”  He mutters, pulling the cigarette from his lips.  There’s no malice detected in his words, just something lacking hope as he stares straight ahead.

Carefully, you sit at the very edge of the bench, your skirt a tad too short to allow you to fully sit back due to the cold surface.  You catch a wave of his warmth as he rests his arm on his thigh.  It hurts, how far away he feels even being inches from you; his mind might as well be on Jupiter.  A momentary glance over at you causes him to sigh deeply, his head dipping down while he shakes it in disappointment.

“And dammit!”  Eddie snaps, face twitching in aggravation.  “I don’t have a jacket for you this time.  Learn how to dress for the cold.”  He gestures to your posture, your arms wrapped around your middle in an attempt to savor any warmth, and your jaw clenched shut as a means to keep your teeth from chattering though you can’t seem to contain the shivers nearly rattling your bones.

“I don’t need one.”

He scoffs, disbelief evident in his movements, a fidgeting hand reaching up to scratch the barely-there stubble at his jaw.  

“I don’t!”  You lie.

You were never one to willingly be dishonest but a little white lie in this case didn’t seem like the end of the world.  Not when Eddie’s fragile state of mind seemed to gnaw away at him.  You wouldn’t leave him out for the wolves to feed on him; wolves being his never ending thoughts that always without fail, won him over and forced him to crawl back into his comfort zone of isolation.  You suppose you weren’t so innocent either, always succumbing to the very same habits.

“Go back inside.”  A flick of his cigarette ash towards the ground ignites in the thin layer of snow barely coating the porch before extinguishing.

You can’t help the furrow in your brows, staring at him as if to figure him out, attempting to glance into his large coffee colored irises, to no avail.  His shiny eyes dodge your attempts, the windows of his soul closed off, even from you.  Not that you were immediately entitled, though you figure with each trauma he had shared with you, he’d at least be able to look you in the eye.

“Come with me.”  You chirp.  “We’ll taste all the wines.  C’mon, and then we’ll be nice and hungry.  Drunk eating is the best.”  You extend a hand out toward him, your freshly painted nails perfectly imperfect in his peripheral.

“I’m not in the mood, Bambi.”

His gravelly voice has a certain effect on you, one you find not appropriate to dissect right now.  He lifts the cigarette back up to his lips, the chance to take one more drag stolen from him as you pluck it from his fingers, tossing it into the snow without regret, stomping your foot on it for good measure.

“Well, get in the mood.  Let’s go.”  

Boldly, you tug at his arm, unable to move him by yourself, you know.  But he willingly melts into your touch, allowing you to pull him up despite his protesting frown.  Though he follows you to stand, he doesn’t budge much further than that as you try to drag him back into the cozy warmth of the house.  The rounded tip of his nose glows red, the threat of a cold only pushing you to tug on his sleeve with no success in ushering him inside.

“I think ‘m just gonna head home.  You think someone else could give you a ride back?”  The question is hesitant, no longer wanting to participate in the festivities but still concerned for your well-being, especially if you were going to continue to drink.  

Your track record with alcohol wasn’t exactly great and he’d never forgive himself if something happened and he wasn’t there just because the sight of you talking to Jett had left a bad taste in his mouth.  But he couldn’t stand it any longer, watching you act so graceful all the time, especially to someone you didn’t particularly like, and then having to pretend that a simple kiss on the cheek didn’t absolutely wreck him.  A kiss that you hadn’t since mentioned, and he wasn’t going to humiliate himself by insinuating that you wanted him in that way.  No one wanted him in that way.

“What?”  You breathe, face shifting into a sadness Eddie wanted to kick himself for.  “No, you can’t go–”

“I’m sure Jett is ready and willing to entertain you.”

Low blow.  He could always count on himself to deliver a low blow at the worst of times.

Eddie knew now that you had a distaste for Jett, he knew that.  And yet he was stupid enough to continue using Jett as ammo against you for no reason other than his own insecurity.  If he continued to push you away then it wouldn’t hurt so bad when you realized he was scum of the earth.  Trailer trash.  A nobody.  That’s what he kept telling himself.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”  You fume, crossing your arms.

“I don’t know, Bambi.  You tell me cause I can’t figure you out.”

The use of his nickname for you stitched together with words of anguish only further confused you.  You couldn’t seem to win.

“Can’t–can’t figure me out?!”  You widen your eyes at him, only hoping to convey how ridiculous of a statement it is.  “Can’t figure me out.  What about you?!  You’re the one no one can figure out!”  

You’re on the verge of whining, begging in a sense.  Pleading with the most stubborn man in the world and god only knows what you’ll do if he doesn’t stand down.

“Maybe there’s a reason for that.”  He states simply, monotone.  It makes you want to yank your hair out by the roots and offer it to him, asking him if it’s enough.  If it’s enough to shut up the voices in his head.

“Yeah?  Because you don’t wanna let people in?!”  Uncharacteristically, you jab a finger into his chest, frustration making itself known across your face and you only know because his eyes ever so slightly soften.  “Eddie, all you do is give me mixed signals!  How many times do I have to tell you I want nothing to do with Jett?!  What do I have to do to get that through your thick fucking head?!”  He tries to get a word in but you don’t give him an opportunity.  “No, seriously!  I need an instruction manual or something because I’m trying!  I have been trying-”

“-I didn’t ask you to!”  He finally interrupts, sorrow filling his eyes.

With a deep breath, you calm your heaving chest.  It’s apparent you’re no longer cold, your skin hot from working yourself up.  Steam may as well be coming from your ears though it wasn’t your intention to get so irritated with him.  

“I wanted to.  I want to.”  Your voice comes out softer, a gentler approach to his sudden internal conflict.

“No.”

Turning away, he doesn’t quite move to leave but there’s no mistaking the fact that he’s trying to shut you out.  He’s trying to escape like some kind of feral animal but you refuse to give in.  You refuse to let him.  

“Yes.  Eddie–look at me!”  You demand with a small pull of his arm.

“No.”

He goes to turn his body even further away from you but the firm hold you have on his bicep stops him.  He keeps his gaze on the floorboards below, his nose twitching and eyes burning with the threat of tears.  You only know because you’re all too familiar with the mandatory frown that comes with holding them back.

“Stop doing that.  Please.”  You beg.

“I can’t be here right now–”

“What makes you think I can?”

He’s silent.  The world instantly feels so quiet, tiny snow flurries fluttering around you, making you feel as if you’re the only two people on Earth.  Echoes of the celebrating and hollering inside are faint although they don’t do much to pop the bubble you find yourselves in.  Then he breaks the silence, daring to plead with you this time.

“Bambi, please.”  He croaks.

Your initial thought is, please what?  You’d been pleading with him back and forth for god knows how many minutes straight and here he was doing it right back to you.  And for what?  It wasn’t a good enough plea, not for you.  You weren’t ready to let it go, if you even knew what “it” was.

“No, you’re coming inside and you don’t have to associate with me if you don’t want to but you’re coming inside.”

Your demand only seems to irritate him, his brows knitting together while he pinches the bridge of his nose in between his fingers.  If he was agitated then you were about to become enraged.  And that is not something you wanted.  You never wanted to display that kind of emotion toward him but he was practically pulling it out of you and you had to fight against it.  No one had ever been able to pull such a reaction out of you, not ever.  Even if you had gotten pretty close, you swallowed it down and hid it.

“Why?!”  Eddie seethes.

His outburst takes you back, though with the aggravation boiling within you, you were able to contain any reaction he was seeking, if any.  That wasn’t the case for long though as you then launch yourself into another tantrum after staring for a second too long at his snarled lip.

“Because believe it or not, I care, Eddie!”  You practically wail, your voice becoming hoarse.  “If you leave I’m coming with you because I’m not leaving you alone.  Not on Thanksgiving.”  Your head shakes in denial.

Against your own will, a single tear trails down your cheek and the moment you feel it, you’re rapidly wiping it away, hoping he never even saw it when you knew damn well his umber eyes followed it all the way down your face.  He only pulls his gaze away.

“I’m leaving.  You’re staying here.”  He decides, regret etched into his features.

In a final attempt to escape your grasp, he succeeds, feeling your fingertips linger for one last second before drifting away as he turns and makes his way down the porch steps, wood protesting beneath him.  The noise is the only proof you have that he’s actually leaving, that he actually feels he’s not worthy enough to stay.  

You refuse to give up so easily.

Your feet are already on a mission, nearly sprinting down the stairs even with the threat of slipping on the minimal amount of ice beginning to freeze over.  Eddie pays no mind to the fast paced footsteps crunching against the gravel behind him, making his way over to Sugar with his head hung low.  Your heart is racing, not just because you suddenly decided to sprint a few yards but because a healthy dose of dopamine has started coursing throughout your body, a good amount of anxiety accompanying it but not deferring you any longer.

Eddie makes it to Sugar, his hand reaching for the door only for it to be forced shut with a self-manicured hand.  If he didn’t know who the hand belonged to he’d be chewing the owner out for daring to touch his beloved truck.  Instead he rolls his eyes and turns as he prepares to reprimand you in a much more gentle manner than he would anyone else.

Except he doesn’t even have the chance when your lips are suddenly pressed to the corner of his mouth, your body pushing him against Sugar.  His hands freeze mid air, his eyes wide open.  Your hands are resting on his chest and–he can’t breathe.  You pull away, inches from him and he can’t breathe, he can’t speak, he can’t move.  As far as he’s concerned he isn’t even human anymore.  

“Stay.”  You whisper, your breath fanning over slightly chapped lips.

His lips won’t stop tingling, he can’t grasp the concept of what just occurred.  He refuses to even touch you for fear that you might disappear right before him.  Hell, he’s not even sure he’s allowed to.

It’s difficult to gauge his reaction, his heavy breath lingering with the smell of his cigarette that would probably gross you out had it been anyone else but for some reason, because it’s him, you don’t mind very much.  You must smell strongly of wine which isn’t always pleasant so you figure you’re even.

“Please stay.”   You repeat, nudging your nose into his.

It’s like he’s in a trance, his eyelids becoming lazy and his body relaxing when you reach up to trace your thumb ever so slightly over his jaw.  His forehead rests against yours, his eyes squeezing shut, and you can hear a gulp in his throat.  With his eyes still shut, he nods and before you can process it, he launches himself into your arms in a tight embrace, wrapping himself around you, his face buried in your neck.  A wetness catches against your skin catches your attention, Eddie’s body heaving slightly and you just know.

You know that the tear stains on your skin mean more to him than you could ever imagine.

Slowly, your fingers tangle in his hair, threading into the curls at the nape of his neck to lightly scratch his scalp soothingly.  The way he grips onto you tighter, his body shaking, only confirms that physical touch and affection was not a luxury he was allowed in his lifetime.  If he let you, you’d spend thousands of hours holding him, even in the cold.  Whatever he needed.

But the snow flurries began to grow larger and the wind started to pick up.  And you’d be damned if you allowed yourself and Eddie to catch a nasty cold when you could be doing the same thing inside next to the fire.  Though, as you thought about it, Eddie would probably shy away from your touch in front of everyone.  And that didn’t anger you in the way it normally would.  Because you couldn’t blame him, someone so touch starved that he began to sob the second he was willingly kissed and told he was wanted, for shying away from showers of physical affection in front of peers that only know him to be big, bad, Eddie Munson.  It would be too much of a change and you weren’t willing to force that upon him.

So as the cold grew more unforgiving, you continued to hold him.  He would be the one to decide when he felt he wanted to part from you.  And if you both got sick, so be it.  A stupid cold would be worth the price if you were able to provide him the touch he went so long without and so badly craved, even if he didn’t quite know it at first.

Eddie parted from you far sooner than anticipated.  His cheeks were rosy, his rounded nose matching, endearingly so.  His eyelashes were dotted with a few lingering tears, his eyes rimmed with red but sadness was absent from his features.  Instead there was a fondness dripping from his expression and though he parted from the embrace to gaze down at you, he still clung to you like his life depended on it. 

“Can I–can I kiss you?”  He whispers shakily.

You want to laugh, only because he’s acting as if you didn’t kiss him in the first place.  But you bury it deep down and only let a smile blossom.  

“Please.”  You whisper back.

This time, you’re more than happy to beg.  

Hesitantly, his shaky hand cups your jaw, the warmth from his skin more than welcome as he gently slots his lips against yours.  He’s slow with it, taking his time.  As you move in rhythm with him, you encourage him, moving his arms to circle your waist, pressing yourself closer and letting your hands travel up his chest to lock behind his neck.  

“I can’t stop.”  He laughs quietly, continuously pecking your lips like he can’t get enough.

“Don’t.”  You giggle into his mouth.

Teeth clash against teeth and though he hasn’t quite graduated to using tongue yet, you have the urge to introduce him.  Before you can pass your tongue along his plump bottom lip, he curses under his breath as he pulls away, only causing worry to spread across your face.

“You’re freezing.”  His hands rub up and down your arms to somewhat heat you up and only then do you realize your face feels completely numb.

“No, I’m fine.”  You protest against your better judgment.  It wasn’t exactly fitting to be in tights while one of the first snow falls of the year ensued.

“You’ll be a popsicle in like three seconds.”

Eddie softly smiles, reaching for your hand and tugging you with him toward the house.  A whine escapes you, a pathetic whimper but you manage to shuffle yourself along with him.  Before entering the realm of reality beyond the front door, Eddie turns to you, stars in his eyes, something glimmering.

“How’s my nose?  Snotty?”  He grins, wiping his nose with the back of his hand.

~end~

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tags - @gravedigginbbydoll @ohauggieo @spicysix @lunatictardis @ali-r3n @batkin028 @mrsjellymunson @witchwolflea @emma77645 @emxxblog @eddiesxangel @angietherose @lottie-90 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @pullingattheroots @avalon-wolf @vintagehellfire @cryingglightningg @foreveranexpatsposts @winchester-angel @mmunson86 @witchwolflea @kurdtbean @micheledawn1975 @tlclick73 @erinekc @hazydespair @whenshelanded @corrodedcoffincumslut @ms1oftheboys @lma1986 @uglypastels @aysheashea @dashingdeb16

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #smoke signals #eddie munson au #stranger things fic #stranger things au #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic

[luxaofhesperides]

“You know, I’ve spent years looking at the stars and yet, you still manage to outshine them all.” + fluff, established relationship ; requested by @xysidhequeen!

The Signal didn’t often go out at night. He sticks to working during the day as often as he can, a visible figure of safety that the people of Gotham could rely on. He mostly works alone during the day, with only his husband’s voice in his ear (and sometimes flying by his side), and spends the night recovering so he can do it all over again.

But tonight, he’s grappling through the streets, working with Batgirl and Red Hood to bust a trafficking operation. The rest of the Bats are either working cases in other parts of the world, or too injured to go out despite their best efforts to say otherwise. He’s already feeling tired, not as young as he used to be and lacking the energy he had in high school to do so much each day. 

They need the help, which is why he agreed to help out, but Danny had managed to switch him from being one of the heavy hitters to being backup and rescue, so he can whisk away any victims he finds through shadows to deliver them to Gordon, who waits on standby a few streets away with emergency medical services with him. Not a perk he was expecting from marrying someone else in the hero business, but definitely one he appreciates. 

He wishes Danny were still in his ears, humming softly on comms as Duke fits himself into the shadow of the warehouse the traffickers are hiding in. Batgirl and Red Hood take to the roofs as Duke slips inside, stepping out of the shadows onto the catwalk, crouching down so no one spots him. The shadows drape over him, a comforting weight, as he reaches out and rips away the weak lights on in the warehouse.

The added darkness allows Batgirl and Red Hood to slip inside, positioning themselves on the crossbeams, watching the people below them move about. 

They speak in hushed voices, eyes flickering nervously from the windows to the door. Guns are held in white-knuckled grips; they all know they shouldn’t step into Bat territory, but the call of powerful criminal families like the Falcones is too much for them to resist. 

“Victims should be held in freight boxes at the other end of the warehouse,” Red Hood says, voice low as he shifts his weight, ready to drop down and make the traffickers beg for mercy. 

“Try to draw everyone to this end, then, and I’ll get the victims out of here.”

“You got it. Ready, Batgirl?”

Batgirl lifts her cowl to tuck her blond bangs out of her face, then grins. “Ready.”

They drop from the ceiling at the same moment, landing on two traffickers and taking them out instantly. The warehouse is filled with shouts and gunfire as the vigilantes weave their way around the space, hitting hard and kicking away guns as soon as they can.

Duke grabs onto a shadow and follows it along the wall, letting it carry him down to the floor. No one guards the freight boxes, making it all the easier to wrench them open. The movement makes his left shoulder twinge, and Duke winces, knowing it’ll be a pain in the morning. 

The people huddled inside the freight box cry out, alarmed and frightened, when he steps inside. 

“Hey, it’s alright, I’m here to get you guys to safety,” he soothes, hands raised in front of him.

The youngest of them are the first to run to him, whispering fervent thanks as he pulls the shadows over them, hiding them from sight, then taking them to Gordon. He makes the trip multiple times, the other victims eager to be free from the hell they’ve experienced. 

There are tears and panic attacks and people clutching to each other, relieved that their nightmare is over. 

Thankfully, there weren’t that many victims. It’s the smallest silver lining, but after all these years, Duke knows to take what he can get. It’s all to easy to let despair take over. If he wants to save people, he has to keep fighting for the smallest hopes of a better future.

“All victims have been rescued,” he announces, standing outside the warehouse. “Need any help in there?”

“Nah, we’re good,” Batgirl says. Her words are followed by a grunt, a swear, and then her manic laughter. From the sound of it, someone got a lucky shot in and Batgirl repaid it with a particularly nasty nerve strike.

“We got it covered from here. Just need to interrogate a few guys, then we’ll let the pigs clean up this mess,” Red Hood adds. 

“Alright, I’m gonna head in, then.”

Batgirl sends him off with a cheerful “Sleep tight, don’t let the lovebugs bite too much!” It’s been years since he accidentally went on patrol with a fully visible hickey and she still refuses to let it go.

Duke sighs, then turns off his comm. He grapples up to the roof and begins making his way back towards the apartment, far too tired to bother with going to the Hatch. He’s got plenty of hidden storage space to hide away his suit for a day, and the Hatch doesn’t have Danny, so of course he’s not going to go there.

All he wants to do after such a long day is go home, where Danny should be.

Should be, because not even five minutes into crossing the city, Duke catches sight of the white star-glow of Danny up on a rooftop. 

He changes course immediately, turning towards Danny before he fully processes what he’s seeing, as if he’s being pulled into his orbit. 

Danny’s sitting on the edge of a building as Phantom, his gas mask hanging loose around his neck. 

He beams as Duke lands on the building, reaching up for him as Duke takes off his helmet and crouches down to kiss him. 

“You know,” Danny murmurs against his lips, “I’ve spent years looking at the stars, and yet you still manage to outshine them all.”

Six years of marriage and Danny still manages to fluster him. Duke laughs, dropping his head onto Danny’s shoulder. “Well, hello to you too, you flirt. What was that for?”

“I saw you saving those people tonight. They looked at you like you were the sun. I’m glad other people are seeing how wonderful you are.”

“You flatter me too much. What brought you out here so late? I thought you were sleeping.”

Danny shrugs, looking down at the street. “I tried, but a ghost insisted I follow them out here. I didn’t realize how close I was to you until I got here, and then I just couldn’t resist watching you in action.”

“And you wanted to make sure I was fine.”

“That too,” Danny admits. They’ve long since settled any arguments about trust and believing each other to be able to handle the fights they throw themselves into. Danny’s need to protect and self sacrifice because he’s ‘already dead, what’s another thirty bullets going to do?’ and Duke’s determination to do things his way, working off visions of the future he doesn’t have time to communicate meant they fought often and loudly in the early stages of their relationship. Time has tempered those feelings, and now it’s clear to see that Danny simply wants him safe, and Duke doesn’t mind using his status as a hero or his powers to give Danny some special treatment.

Danny checking up on him in fights doesn’t make him think Danny sees him as weak and in need of help. It just makes him feel loved, grateful to know his husband would always be there for him, even if it’s in the sidelines, ready to fly them home.

“What did the ghost need?” he asks, lifting his head from Danny’s shoulder. 

“Well…” Danny trails off. “How do you feel about pets?”

“Sweetheart, did a ghost ask you to adopt their dog?”

Danny’s expression falls, and Duke’s heart twists. He pulls Danny into his arms without second thought, offering him what comfort he could. 

“Not a dog,” he says. “And it wasn’t a human ghost. It was a cat. A cat that had kittens and died because there wasn’t enough food for her on the streets.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Duke says. Animal deaths have always hit Danny hard, and it’s this that made Damian accept Danny as part of the family, insisting on helping ghost animals with him.

“I’ve already texted Dami about the kittens. He’s going to swing by our place tomorrow to pick them up, but there are two that attached themselves to me and I don’t want to let them go.”

“Let’s go get them and take them home. And then we can start thinking of names for them.”

Danny peeks up at him shyly, then breaks out into a relieved smile. “Really? Thank you! I love you so much.” He jumps to his feet and kisses Duke quickly, then is flying down to get the kittens before Duke can do anything.

He flies back up with a cardboard box full of tiny little ‘meows’ that are already melting Duke’s heart from cuteness.

“I buried mama cat already, so I think we’re good to go.”

Duke aims his grapple again, and with Danny by his side, soars above the city. Neither of them are going as fast as they usually do, carefully aware of the kittens in the box. When they get to their apartment, Duke lands on the balcony and opens the door so Danny can fly in without risking intangible kittens escaping. He sets the box down gently on the floor of the living room, then grabs his wallet and flies out again, tossing a quick explanation of buying food for them over his shoulder.

Left alone with the kittens, Duke peeks into the box to coo at them before heading to the bedroom to change into sweatpants. His gear is left tucked into the back of the closet, hidden by some heavy winter coats. 

The kittens are crying when he gets back to the living room. Their little cries are too hard to resist, so Duke uses the shadows to create a small playpen for them, keeping them contained in a small area in front of the couch. He sits on the ground and carefully pulls each kitten out, freeing them from their cardboard confines. 

Within seconds, the kittens are toddling around unsteadily, so small and scraggly, with eyes that have only just opened peering around curiously. Duke pets them with a single finger, terrified of hurting their fragile bodies. 

He’s covered in kittens climbing over his lap when Danny returns.

His husband takes a moment by the door, in human form, to give him a sappy smile, so visibly in love it makes Duke blush. “You’re the best thing I’ve ever seen,” he says, breathlessly, and carelessly drops his bag of kitten supplies on the ground to cross the distance between them and kiss Duke sweetly. 

“Such a sweet talker today,” Duke comments as he pulls away.

“Can you really blame me? I have the best husband in the world who saves people and kittens and has the best smile and reminds me how much good is still left in the world.”

Duke’s mind short circuits at Danny’s words. Instead of saying how much he loves Danny, with his need to protect, his big heart, the way he always puts his cold hands on Duke’s temples before Duke himself realizes how bad his migraine is, what he says is, “Can we name one of the kittens Polaris?”

“Best husband in the world,” Danny says again, his voice soft. “I love that name. Yes, let’s name one Polaris.”

Sitting there at almost four in the morning, just coming in from saving victims of human trafficking, should be exhausting and painful and lead to a long night of wondering how long he can keep fighting when there’s no end to human cruelty. But his heart is light, leaning into his husband with kittens crawling over them.

There is good in the world. So much good.

The best is sitting besides him in their dark living room, and Duke knows that as long as Danny is by his side, he’ll keep fighting for all the good still out there. The world could be so much better, and he’s determined to make it better for Danny.

A world where kittens are safe even in the streets. 

That’s the world he’ll make for Danny.

#ghostlights #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp fic #dp x dc fanfic #prompt fill #my writing #a little look into their lives years in the future where theyre married and still being heroes #duke remains the daytime hero and phantom is a rarely seen hero who only comes out for huge emergencies. or to be with the signal. #theres a rhythm to their lives but they still manage to make everything feel new and lovely together #literally goals. who does it like them!!! #thank you for the prompt!!

[usercupid]

Mixed Signals

hi yall! i know i have a history of making fics then disappearing but i actually have plans into making this a series! i don’t know how long it’ll span but i’m thinking 3 or 4 chapters so stay tuned if u like the story! 🪷🤍 also srry the ending is rushed cause im tired and just want to finish this!

elliot x fem reader

lowercase on purpose

not proofread

2.3k words

synopsis; you and elliot were best friends, and despite being flirtatious, there was never really anything going on between you two.. right?

Chapter 1: History class

junior year was rough. the new schedule adjustments, not knowing anyone in this new school, and being smart enough to not completely fail but also not smart enough to effortlessly pass all weighed down on you. you could get by being alone, but it was never easy. that was up until you met elliot.

“elliot, we have to finish this history project.” you advised. of course, you didn’t actually mean we. you always ended up carrying the weight of the work whenever you worked with him. normally, doing all the work in a group project would drive you up the wall. but whenever you got around elliot, you felt as if his presence was enough. you never pushed for anything more from him.

he was also your first best-friend, and you were his. nothing could compare to the nights you spent on the phone with him, whether you were doing algebra homework, or trying to pick out a dress for your first party, he was always there.

elliot took a pull from the blunt you both were smoking and it became infinitely hard for you to not stare. “y/n,” elliot started as he exhaled the smoke, “we have more than 2 weeks to finish this. and all we really have to do is copy what we wrote in our notebooks onto the poster board! it can’t be that difficult angel”

there was that nickname again. he’s used it plenty of times before now, but its weight never faltered because it always made you weak in the knees.

“but still, i’d like to finish this now so we have time for ourselves later,” you sighed, and in an attempt to hide your flustered face, you began copying down your notes to your poster.

“time for ourselves? what do you have in mind?” elliot teased as a sly smile appeared on his face, taking another hit from the blunt.

he didn’t know if the weed was making him bolder, or if it was the way the light from his window perfectly dawned on your relaxed figure, but elliot began to admire your features.

you were so soft with him, never making him feel smaller than you. always taking his feelings into consideration and looking out for him. even now, where you seem uptight, elliot couldn’t help but admire.

he couldn’t pinpoint just exactly what about you in this moment was enticing him like never before, but regardless of what it was, he couldn’t stop staring. and unbeknownst to elliot, you sensed him eyeing you down.

“y’know if you keep looking at me like that, i won’t get any work done.” you giggled, looking up at him.

“well that would be just terrible” he mused as he got up from his seat on the floor and moved closer to you on the bed to pass you the joint. he then held the blunt up to your lips and as you inhaled, you looked up at him. his eyes were low, red, and they never seemed to leave yours. he was so close, you were able to feel the warmth radiating off his body, and somehow, you never felt more comfortable.

his cool fingertips had just barely grazed your lips but that single, electrifying touch left you longing for more of him, and it took every ounce of strength you had to not ask.

after what felt like a century (but was just 6 seconds), he removed the blunt from in between your lips and watched you inhale the smoke, then exhale slowly. everything you did was hypnotic to him, and he couldn’t get enough.

the next day, you sat with jules and rue in the cafeteria. elliot decided to eat off campus for lunch, and you were glad that you hadn’t seen him all day yet. if you were being honest, you had been avoiding him all day.

you weren’t mad or upset at him by any means, but you just didn’t know what to say to him. i mean, what could you say? your relationship was always flirty, so why has it just hit you now?

“can i tell you guys something?” you blurted to your friends sitting across from you.

as you asked, you started to mindlessly scroll through you and elliot’s messages. you had never thought your feelings towards elliot were anything other than platonic up until a few weeks ago, and yesterday had only confirmed that you wanted him more than you’d like to admit.

“yeah sure, wassup?” rue asked, munching on her sandwich

“would you ever see me and elliot as.. you know,” you hesitated, “a thing? like together?”

“wait.. you guys aren’t ‘a thing?’” mocked jules. “i could've sworn you guys we’re together!?”

rue laughed to herself as she began to speak, “yeah i mean, you guys are always flirting with each other? i just assumed you guys were dating ‘nd just didn’t say.”

“you think so?” you questioned, fiddling with your well-manicured nails. you never saw anything between elliot and you until recently so there is no way that everyone else saw what you were so blind to.. right?

“yes, y/n, oh my god! i can’t believe you guys aren’t already dating!” jules exclaimed while giggling with rue. “i never want to hang out with the two of you alone because i feel like a third wheel!”

you were utterly surprised by the words that were coming out of your best friend's mouths. there was no way other people could see you guys together. there was no way they truly thought that.

you made a face as if all the gears in your head were turning, and in all honesty, they were. they were working their hardest as you started thinking that if everyone sees you both as a couple, that would have to mean he shows some sort of romantic feelings for you, right? he has to have looked at you in some way or said something to make everyone think you guys went out, right?!

“wait so you think he likes me too?” you excitedly asked.

“if his goo-goo eyes everytime you walk in weren’t a dead giveaway to how he feels, you should know he speaks about you every second of the day..” jules confessed, “whenever he starts telling me pointless ass stories about things you’ve guys have done together, i honestly just zone out.”

“how haven’t you noticed any of this? it’s so stupidly obvious, it’s not even funny” rue mumbled with a mouth full of food.

“i don’t know?! i just never thought of him — or us like that!” you said, laughing exasperatedly.

“probably ‘cause she’s in love too!” jules teasingly exclaimed. you knew she was joking, but for as long as you’ve known him, all you ever wanted to do was spend all day with him. he always showered you with attention and quality time. and even if he didn’t, you’d still drop everything to be with him. there was never any words or actions that needed to be spoken or done between the two of you in order for you to feel appreciated and loved.

loved. you would never bat an eye if you used that word to describe your relationship with him before.

“you guys should just get together,” rue said, crashing your train of thought as she gathered her stuff for her next class, “you're both ‘best friends’ already so nothing would have to change, right?”

you didn’t respond.

on one hand, it seemed like there was absolutely nothing to lose. apparently, he’s given multiple signs that he likes you so why not? why couldn’t you shake the feeling that everything would change?

“y/n, you don't have to make a decision right now, but remember that elliot would never do anything to make whatever you guys have going on weird. he genuinely cares,” jules reaffirmed, standing up from the table.

“thanks jules, but i honestly don’t think i’m gonna ‘make a decision.’ i just want to let things work themselves out so i don’t have to” you said, getting you things and going to your history class.

walking into your class, you immediately sensed elliot was there, despite him being sat in the far back. you didn’t really know what to say after that night in his room, on top of the bombshell rue and jules had just dropped on you.

as you walked into the class, you tried to scan for an empty seat that wasn’t the seat next to him. normally, you’d sit there with no hesitation, but you hadn’t prepared yourself enough to have the conversation that so desperately needs to be held.

fuck. you thought as you saw there were no more empty seats, annoyance written on your face.

you made your way to the desk nexts his and tried your hardest to avoid any unnecessary eye contact.

skipping this class would’ve been easier than enduring 45 minutes next to someone you’re trying your hardest to steer clear of but some shit just can’t be helped.

as you sat down and the lesson began, everything seemed to be going well except for the watchful pair of eyes that followed your every move.

you felt them as you picked up your pencil to jot down notes, as you took a sip from your water bottle, to when you opened your phone. you felt your energy being snuffed by his piercing gaze.

“maybe if i just ignore him he’ll stop.” you hoped to yourself.

15 minutes had gone by and he has not stopped once. you couldn’t figure out if he was doing it on purpose to make you freak out or if he was just that nosey but you finally had enough.

“don’t stare, it’s rude.” you seethed silently, looking at him for the first time since class started

“oh you decided you want to talk to me now? to what do i owe the honor” elliot haphazardly taunted.

“damn he noticed i was ignoring him” you thought to yourself.

“only ‘cause you’ve been staring at me for the past like, 15 minutes?”

“only ‘cause you’ve been ignoring me all day.”

“i haven’t been ignoring you?” lie 1.

“you haven’t?”

“no” lie 2.

“so why haven’t you said a word to me like, all day?”

“we just have nothing to speak about” lie 3.

“you sure? cause i heard something completely different from jules”

of course.

of course she was the reason you got caught in your lies. you internally laughed to yourself and left a mental note to never trust jules with anything even mildly important again.

but on the bright side, thank god he stopped interrogating you or else your conscience would’ve started eating you alive to feed all those lies you were spouting. i guess in an odd way, you’d be able to thank jules for saving your conscience. or maybe not.

“oh really?” you smirked “what did jules tell you then?” you couldn’t let your facade fall. you knew how to work your way out of shit, even if jules mucked up your oh-so-amazing plan.

“not much” elliot replied, “she just told me you had something to say to me”

you sighed to yourself. you could either keep playing this game of avoiding talking about your situation-ship, or come clean and possibly ruin what you both have.

you know that there’s a chance that he wants you back. but why ruin what you both have right now? it’s like when you’re doing your eyebrows and they’re absolutely perfect, but you keep plucking at them to make them even better, and before you know it, you end up over plucking and now have 2 uneven brows!

why ruin what’s already been so good to you? you’re both fine with what you were.

“well she was wrong,” you finally said. “do you have anything to say to me?” a tinge of hopefulness written in that question.

after a few seconds of silence, he replied,

“no.”

see, you knew you shouldn’t have pushed it. everything could’ve been gone in a matter of seconds.

“cool.” you uttered.

you picked up a blackberry from the bowl of fruit you were snacking on and ate it while retelling maddy and cassie everything that happened in history yesterday.

“cool?” maddy repeated “why the fuck would you say cool y/n?”

“yeah you’re giving him mixed signals” cassie chimed in.

“i honestly didn’t know what else to say like, i knew if i said anything more, i could ruin 3 years worth of friendship.”

“yeah but by not saying anything you could’ve ruined 3 years worth of friendship” sighed cassie “if one day you guys were hotboxing in his room getting close, and the next you’re giving him the cold shoulder, what’s he supposed to think?”

“it’s not like he wanted to speak about it though so why should i be the one that has to?” you asked, popping a mango cube in your mouth.

“so you want him to come to you?” maddy questioned, “i’m confused why you’re even stuck over him anyway. if you’re not dating why is your relationship this stressful? take advantage of you’re stress-free, single life girl!”

“maybe you’re right about that, i mean, if we’re not together why am i even overthinking this?” you giggled, sitting up from your bed.

“no yeah, don’t stress over shit like this. if you want him to make the first move and he doesn’t, just stay friends and find someone else” maddy suggested.

just as maddy said that, a notification popped up on your phone.

elliot 🤍; do u want to come over tmr?

#elliot x reader #euphoria #euphoria x reader #elliot euphoria #elliot imagine #writing #euphoria fic #maddy x reader #cassie x reader #rue x reader #jules x reader #euphoria x y/n #euphoria x fem!reader #euphoria x you #elliot x you #mixed signals #usercupid

[cyberrose2001]

Announcement

Hello everyone! I've come here with sad news that @uselessmicrowave can no longer gain access to his account.

If you follow @uselessmicrowave or regulary read his fics, he can now be found at @uselessmacrowave.

Please give him all the love, as he is understandably very upset about this :(

And if possible, please reblog this to spread the word so this may reach as many people as possible!

@uselessmacrowave @uselessmacrowave @uselessmacrowave

#uselessmicrowave #i love you honey <3 #tfp x reader #tfa x reader #transformers x reader #transformers #transformers animated #transformers prime #signal boost #miscellaneous

[ratorim]

Batkids

#my art #fanart #dc #dick grayson #jason todd #cassandra cain #tim drake #duke thomas #damian wayne #nightwing #red hood #black bat #red robin #the signal #robin #batfamily #so many tags #ask 'wheres x character' i kill you dead

[starwrighter]

Two out of three prompts baby!!

Another take on the Lazarus waters= corrupted ectoplasm

While not all the batfam has been revived by the Lazarus pits, they've all either been in contact with the Lazarus pits / in the general vicinity of a Lazarus pit. If we go with the idea of Lazarus water having certain qualities of ectoplasm but not all of them couldn't people exposed to Lazarus water become a form of ecto contaminated from the waters?

For this prompt let's let Lazarus water keep the qualities of ectoplasm that contaminants the people who are exposed to it. Except Lazarus water doesn't contaminate people the same way ectoplasm does.

With ectoplasm you can spot when someone is contaminated almost immediately. Whether it be physical sickness or the physical mutations it causes (i.e fangs, pointed ears, glowy eyes, anything else you hc liminals having) it's easy to detect.

However, Lazarus water is a bit more... Discreet. Not that it's trying to be discreet it just doesn't have the same umph that ectoplasm has. Most of the pits effects are a ditch effort of getting/making ectoplasm.

Lazarus water desperately wants to be ectoplasm again. It wants to be stable but it physically can't. Not by itself at least. The people who are effected by Lazarus water are more prone to violence and bursts of anger and paranoia that can hurt or kill the people around them. All those symptoms can create ectoplasm but it will never be enough they need a powerful consistent source of a specific type of ectoplasm.

If you see where I'm going with this good. All the batfam are corrupted liminals/halfas.

Most of their symptoms are dormant but it's still there running through their veins imbedded deep in their brains, some worse than others. Everything they've been doing is a way to create ectoplasm but they can't absorb it. Not only are they not making enough, the ecto they do manage to make is corrupted and just adds fuel to the flames.

Now let's add Danny to the mix. It's no secret that Danny is canonically overpowered to a ridiculous amount so Danny would logically be emitting tons of powerful ectoplasm all hours of the day. The ectoplasm Danny emits is a godsend to corrupted liminals/halfas; the blood type O- if you will.

So when Danny comes in contact with one of the corrupted liminals/halfas (it's up to you if he's on the run or just visiting) they latch on immediately. Unfortunately there is no quick cure for corruption just like how radiation lingers years after an nuclear explosion corruption takes years to purify fully and it gets much worse before it ever gets better.

As mentioned before Lazarus water wants to be ectoplasm again and it doesn't care how long it'll take to get there. Which leads to some... Odd behavior from the contaminated

Danny with his crap luck runs into each and every member of of the batfam vigilantes and civilian persona's. He ran into babs at the library while trying to figure out his schooling. He ran into Tim at a cafe. Signal woke him up when he fell asleep on a park bench and thought he was dead. He literally ran into Jason and Dick. Damian was his seatmate cause they both skipped several grades. ( The angst of the portal accident happening earlier is something I would die for) Robin saved him from a mugging.

When he inevitably got kidnapped Bruce Wayne was called. Spoiler and Red Robin saved him from said kidnaping Batman evacuated him and some dude named duke from riddlers game. He saw Red Hood and Nightwing at bat burger.

Now the meetings in themselves weren't the problem, honestly it was just a typical month with Fenton luck. The problem was when he didn't stop meeting them.

It started with how seemingly there was always a vigilante there when he needed help, it made him nervous but could be chalked up to typical vigilante behavior. Then it was Tim always being there first no matter which Cafe or coffee shop he picked even the ones in the lower district. That was understandable since it was obvious the man was a caffeine addict and high end Cafe's in Gotham typically limited the amount of caffeine they gave you while the ones in the lower districts couldn't care less if you died. It was however annoying how he would comment on how "Danny, you shouldn't be drinking coffee this young" like he had the room to talk.

Next it was the way he constantly ran into Jason at the library. Apparently he was Barbara's brother. He did however help Danny with his English homework in a way he actually understood it! For that impossible feat Danny would forever be in his debt til the day he (fully) died.

Damian was his classmate,Duke and Tim went to the same school as them so he couldn't exactly blame them for that. He actually considered Damian a friend, they talked and ate lunch together. They were also paired together for pretty much everything since nobody else wanted to be Danny's partner for some reason.

He kept running into Dick and Cass whenever he went to eat at bat burger. Dick was funny and Cass started teaching him sign language. They were also Gothamites so he had no reason to tell them not to show up at a public place.

It got to the point he was always running into one of them no matter where he went! And the meetings were getting creepier and creepier.

They started inviting him places specifically to their homes. Danny was smart enough to know not to go home with someone he'd only known for a few months. Danny actively started to avoid them when their asking became more frequent and harder to safely decline.

He finally did go to one of their houses when Damian asked if he wanted to come over and work on a project. The teachers actively encouraged him to go saying everything from " Damian has trouble making friends, he's trying really hard for you ya know?" To" the project needs to be done either way might as well pair yourself with a friend" To just telling him to go because "It'd be good for your future to have connections with people like Damian and his family,"

Eventually Danny caved on his own, he trusted Damian, he was with the dude every hour of the school day for Ancients sake. So Danny goes to the Manor and everything goes as it should until it's time for him to leave. Damian tries to get him to stay longer and when he attempts to leave on his own he is blocked by the batfam.

Now Danny is confused and kind of scared. The fam sit him down and try to have a normal conversation with him but Danny is just asking when he's going home. Bruce then reveals he has full custody of Danny and that this is his home now. Danny starts freaking out even more since this is the second billionaire who's set on force adopting him.

They try to comfort Danny but he's not having any of it he attempts to phase out but he's blocked, the entire Manor has been ghost proofed to keep him in. Danny is full on panicking right now, trying to keep his cool. The batfam are upset because they just saw Danny attempts to escape but they go back to trying to comfort him. Saying it's okay, they understand that he's not ready yet but they couldn't let him keep living the way he was (being homeless or just the Fenton parents in general) inevitably Danny freaks out with a little power use hoping to spook them into letting him go.

Obviously they have ghost proof tech and are only slightly inconvenienced by Danny outburst. They're patient after a few hours of them trying to talk with Danny he finally exhausts himself trying to phase out and the fam take him to "his" room to settle in.

Now Danny has to figure out how to escape or live with this people until whatever effecting them wears off. The butler Alfred said they didn't normally act this way and with how concerned the man looked Danny trusted him.

Tldr: all the batfam are liminals/halfas that need the ectoplasm Danny emits. They go kinda crazy and kidnap Danny cause they are corrupted. From the batfams pov it's a wholesome adoption but from Danny's pov it's a irl true crime episode

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dp x dc prompt #dpxdc #dcxdp #I'll add to this later #Signal when Danny actually wakes up after he shakes him: oh shit meow meow I thought you was dead

[chronicowboy]

tomorrow will always and forever now be today (tomorrow is our always and forever) | 43k

"Think I can get a hug from my best man on my wedding day?" he asks, quietly hopeful in a way that makes Eddie want to tear off his skin.

"Sure," Chris replies with a shrug, turning to throw Eddie a cheeky grin. "Dad, Buck needs a hug."

Two things happen at once then: Eddie has to plaster on a smile authentic enough to convince the one person on this planet that knows him inside out—except he doesn't really have to fake his smile, not at first, because of number two—he sees groom-Buck for the first time. And groom-Buck is every bit as beautiful as Eddie might have imagined him over the years. Happy eyes bright and blue, pink lips stretched wide in a beaming smile, cheeks flushed pink with joy, hair carefully styled and stunningly golden in the morning sunlight. He's half-dressed too, tux jacket still on the hanger on the back of the chair, so Eddie gets an unbarred view of Buck's white shirt stretched taut over his biceps, shoulders, abs.

For a moment, Eddie falls into the greatest betrayal his brain has ever laid out for him, imagining that he might have got to see Buck like this for the first time from the other end of the aisle if he'd just been brave enough to—

"I think he meant you, kid," Eddie teases as he drops their suits to the couch. He widens his stance, so Jee can run through his legs and evade another of Chimney's grab attempts, then he ruffles Christopher's curls as a steadying act before he's suddenly in front of Buck. And he tries not to think about the pathway cleared through the living room by Jee's chase, or the fact that they're under the archway between the kitchen and the dining table, or the knowledge that Bobby is an ordained officiant where he stands behind them. "Hey, Buck," he says softly, smiling genuinely now because this is Buck.

"Hey, Eds," Buck murmurs back, and it's the first time since they'd promised to have each other's backs that Eddie can't quite decipher the emotions making Buck's voice thick.

Eddie wraps him in a hug then, careful and detached as he can manage, but it's Buck in his arms, warm and alive and his for just a few more hours. He doesn't let himself hold Buck's hips like he used to before—before he'd realised why he'd wanted to hold Buck's hips so tightly—just splays his fingers over Buck's back and tries to focus on the soft cotton under his palms rather than the way Buck's temple rests so perfectly against his. Eddie stays there, for too long probably, fingers digging in too tight possibly, and squeezes his eyes shut when they start to water. He's clinging, and he tries not to think about how it feels a little like Buck is clinging to him too.

"Ah," Eddie huffs as he pulls away, taking two steps back just to be safe. He catches Maddie's eyes on him then, sadder than they should be for the happy tears she'd been crying just before he'd got here, and Eddie wonders if her big sister omniscience is working on him too. "Come on, Buckley. Got to make an honest man out of you sooner rather than later."

"Whilst we're on the topic," Chim intervenes, a wriggly Jee on his hips with two shoes on—finally. "Are we sure he should be wearing white?"

(OR: eddie gets trapped in a time loop on the day buck marries natalia)

@butchdiaz @danielsousa @shitouttabuck @alyxmastershipper @diazass @911-on-abc @folk-fae @stagefoureddiediaz @jeeyuns @piningeddiediaz @robsumagpie @athenagranted @prince-buck-diaz @eddiediaztho @carryingbears @ladydorian05 @made-ofmemories @sherlockcrossing @violet-rot @binickmiller @rainbow-nerdss @thatnamewill-probably-change @ducksbellorum @organizedstardust @mangacat201 @faggotjoness @sibylsleaves @kaseysgirl86-blog @daughter-of-winterfell @thisyearsloveisnow @goodiecornbread @wordsofdiana @thehumongouskargomice @xandromedan @acebuddie @girlnamedjesse @pirrusstuff @angstydiaz @haradrimculture @pinky-promisesss @starlingbite @dontneedmyheart @spaceprincessem @shortsighted-owl @buck2eddie @diazly

#sami rambles #SHE'S FINALLY HERE #ahhh im so excited for you all to read this one #please remember i gave myself carpal tunnel syndrome writing this and wrote through the agony #do compensate me with signal boosts kudos bookmarks comments asks etc. #911 fic #911 fanfic #buddie fic #buddie fanfic #buck x eddie fic #palm springs au

[undermine-the-instinct]

Neuvillete is definitely the type to ask you "Did you drink any water today" if you say you have a headache

#'my head hurts' Did you drink water #'im feeling tired/sluggish' did you drink water? #'im sooo hungry' Did you drink water???? #like??? #honestly though sometimes your brain gives you hungry signals when you really need water #not me sick in bed all day #writing this post 8 min after midnight after chugging a quart of water #since i didnt drink anything today but some juice #lol #no wonder i had a headache #i would give neuvi a headache <3 #neuvillette #neuvillette genshin #genshin imapct #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact headcanons #neuvillette x reader #genshin impact #general #my stuff #thoughts #read the tags