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vintagehellfire · 2 years ago

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The Prowler | Eddie Munson x Reader

❦ 1/8 ☙ tw: unhealthy coping mechanisms, smut, abuse, broken families, 18+, minors DNI ❧ When reader moves to Hawkins from a small town in France after having been kicked out to live with their extended family, they lean on unhealthy coping skills. Rumours spread quickly and soon they are known as the town harlot, sleeping around to deal with their unfortunate circumstances.The Prowler, Eddie Munson, always around in some capacity, doesn't bat an eye at what people are saying, after all, he is the devil incarnate himself....[Based on Iron Maiden's self titled album]

Chapter One: The Prowler

“They’ll charge you a fiver for the main course, but you might even get some for free!” The roar of laughter drowned your thoughts, pressure filling your ears as you tried to ignore the sea of teenagers pointing their fingers at nobody else but you.

❦

The muddy boot connected with your trailer door, a sepulchral thunk echoing through the room amidst the rhythmic plunks of the pouring rain against the tin roof. It couldn’t be anybody but the Prowler. You’d spotted his head of hair in the halls of the hellhole that was known as Hawkins High. As much as you loather to admit it, he was quite the attractive character, but you couldn’t allow yourself those thoughts or feelings, no, it was best not to have them.

❦

The cruel smoke wafted from the cigarette that hung between their lips, a sigh of ecstasy, a moment of relief. Their « fix » having just left, leaving them in a ratty shirt, panties bunched on the floor of the trailer, and the ashtray on the floor. To say that the sex was anything but atrocious would have been a lie, but it was a coping strategy and one that was hard to give up. Sure cigarettes took the edge off, but they didn’t make you feel wanted and warm the way a body might, and that’s exactly the way in which (y/n) coped. Cigarettes, booze, and sex. In these moments of deep frustration, (y/n) ran a hand through their shock of dyed hair as they exhaled the poison, silently wishing the cancer sticks they smoked were menthols instead.

Not even a month passed and rumours of (y/n)’s afterschool activities were flying, and accusations were thrown left and right. Of course, only half of them were true. What was this cunning yet elusive figure from hell doing in such a dump as Hawkins? To be honest, there wasn’t an answer to be given, not even one that could have used to try to justify this choice to themselves. They might as well have tossed a dart at a map with their eyes closed, but they didn’t. It was actually more like extended family that did. After (y/n)’s ridiculously haute classe parents kicked them out to go abroad and live with their impoverished uncle, they didn’t really have much of a choice, however; there was a charm to the quietude the town provided in comparison to the rowdy home. Even despite proving to be a rumour mill, there was rare peace that settled upon the town which provided a becoming charm.

Fucking bastard, (Y/N) internally hissed before pushing themselves off of the creaky bed. Coincidentally, that same thought blew through the head of someone a few doors down from their trailer.

“Fucking bastard ,” Eddie gritted through his teeth as he tried to bandage the cut on his forearm, cooly dangling a cigarette from his lips. He worked away at bandaging himself up, the sting of the antiseptic solution burning his fresh wound. The poor man hadn’t had much luck, not just with his grades, but with being considered anything close to remotely human. Eddie “The Freak” Munson they all called him and just about anyone sane knew that he didn’t deserve it, but he was, of course, a metalhead, a Dungeon Master, in the middle of the oh-so-incredible “Satanic Panic”. Naming his club Hellfire sure didn’t feel like the smartest of moves at the moment. If he were honest with himself, it was huge reasoning for the big red target on his chest, and no, not just the snarling demon that adorned his old shirt.

After bandaging himself up, Eddie threw himself onto the bed, finishing up his cigarette and exhaling out the cancerous cloud, the very same that surrounded (y/n) in their trailer a few doors down.

Hawkins High, the hellhole, the place where all souls go to die… The place where after nights of debauchery rumours would spread like a wildfire in a drought. To say the stories and tall tales of (y/n)’s extracurricular didn’t get around was a lie, after all, it was of their own volition that they decided to bed the popular kid but this wasn’t to be expected. The rumours started as soon as they had stepped foot through the door. Some were gracious such as being a freak like that Munson kid, others were downright cruel, the most nefarious being that you were a harlot. To say that was definitely over the line, and it wasn’t like (y/n) solicited sex or anything, but being such a cherry bomb, it made it easy to get what they wanted and when they wanted it. How were they supposed to know that it would end in that prick spreading false accusations of solicitation? (Y/n) found themselves grinding their teeth together. If living in a small town in France had taught them anything, is that being an eyesore, a femme presenting person, who didn’t fit in in the least, put a target on their back, and it looked like it did about the same thing in Hawkins, Indiana. Well, all except for one person.

Eddie Munson, The Prowler, caught (y/n)’s attention on day one. Sharp canines, addictive smile, stupid fucking I don’t give a shit attitude, yeah, just their type, but this is what they aimed to avoid A person they were genuinely interested in? What could possibly go fucking wrong? They didn’t send (y/n) to Hawkins to fall in love with some metal head, Hawkins was supposed to be a punishment and not the place they found true love. Love, what even the fuck was love but an emotion that brought weakness? (Y/n) shook their head before sticking their headphones in and turning up their music as loud as the walkman would allow them to. Love was a weakness, there was more comfort in a fleeting moment than in an emotion that wields the power to rip the happiness from your heart and leave a black hole in its place, sucking all light into it.

When was this god-forsaken day to be over?

❦

The tangled bodies, the sweat, and the moans filled the tiny trailer.

“Fuck yeah baby, oh yes, yes, yes!” The man groaned out as (y/n) lay mostly still. It was almost a nightly ritual at this point. The man, or woman, would buy the booze, (y/n) would take them back to theirs, offer the smokes, and then put on their dominatrix act, but that didn’t always last long. Men liked to take control, tug and yank at their hair, liked to assert dominance over “the whore”. That’s what they were right? Nothing but a cheap whore for a night of fun. Sometimes men would throw in a fiver because they genuinely believed that’s what the agreement was, other times there wasn’t even so much as a goodbye. The nicest person by far had been a man who was clearly trying to have his first time but backed out after (y/n) talked him out of it.

“What are you doing fucking a nobody for the first time? Don’t you want it to be with someone you love?”

“ I don’t know that anybody would love me.”

“ That’s bullshit, look at you. You didn’t try to pay me, you treated me like a human, bought me flowers, whole nine yards, for what? A lay?” They scoffed. “Come on, I’m not gonna take your virginity, but I’ll let you hang out and have a drink.” The man nodded and thus began a night of philosophical conversation and literary analysis.

“Okay sweetheart, I’m done here.” The prick (y/n) took home declared, pulling out, tossing the condom into a corner of the room, and shimmying his pants back on. “Maybe we can do this again sometime, huh?” He offered them a tenner before throwing it at them like a cheap whore when he realised they weren’t taking it.

“I’m not a prostitute.” They called after him as he was leaving and with the clank of the door they let out a “ bitch.” Under their breath. Pulling themselves off the bed, (y/n) decided to light one up and make themselves a coffee before picking up their guitar and flinging themselves onto the worn couch.

Two doors down, Eddie had gotten up from the comfort of his bed and was grabbing his head, pacing back and forth, oblivious to the scandalous acts that had just taken place next door. He couldn’t place his finger on what exactly his Dungeons and Dragons campaign was missing, but it was something rather significant. No, no, they went through the Vecna storyline, he made it nearly impossible for the kids to get themselves out of that one, but they managed. A damsel in distress? To classic. Eddie wanted to scream. He had never had this much trouble in his goddamn life when it came to coming up with ideas for his campaign. A sigh left his lips as he ran a hand through the lion's mane that was his hair. Time to light up I guess , he thought to himself before pulling out a cigarette from behind his ear and marching to the trailer door. He ripped it open in frustration and plopped himself down on the first step, pulling the lighter from his pocket at the same time.

If he didn’t make this the best damn campaign, he’d be fucked. The pupils held him in high regard with expectations that blew through the roof. After all, it was Eddie, the theatrical and dramatic freak. He couldn’t revisit Vecna, could he bring back Kas? He shook his head and scrapped the idea quickly, taking a hit from his cigarette. As soon as the smoke hit his lungs he felt the buzz of nicotine and the gears started turning. He’d have the kids leave the clutches of Vecna’s realm, maybe face a few monsters, and he’d have to introduce a new threat, and interdimensional threat possibly. New monsters, new threats. Transition the kids to a new region? After Vecna wreaked Havoc, he had to introduce new characters, not like he had a choice. Once your character was dead, they were dead… well, Eddie could have included the option to have them unconscious for one to six turns… God, if death-saving rolls were a thing… He cursed at himself and tried to think, wishing he had pulled out his notebook. Could be interesting to force em to go through Bloodstone pass or even the Bloodstone Mines. There was a highly anticipated chapter coming up down the line and so it would give all the more meat to the storyline or he could introduce the forgotten realms, and involve more magic as opposed to total war.

His thoughts were interrupted by the delightful sound of a guitar playing in the background. Snapping his head towards the sound, he wondered how come he’d never heard this before, and he wondered just how sorrowful the person behind the playing must be.

(Y/N) strummed the gloomy chords, letting the heavy emotions fill the air with tension. Of course, making use of the Locrian mode was essential to them, especially since they played doom, haunting the ears of those who bothered to listen. The harrowing tale of their past sorrows, their current misfortunes, and the dark twisted tales of the occult filled what would otherwise be silence. They closed their eyes and lost themselves in the music they were writing, oblivious to the outside world. Music had become a sort of escapism ever since their parents had decided that they weren’t meeting their standards and (y/n) was good . They didn’t leave room for a single doubt on that front. Even those who would diminish them, their accomplishments and their peculiar choices were forced to admit they had a natural talent. It was as if it was an extension of themselves and it never went unnoticed.

(Y/n) played well into the night and eventually tired themselves out completely, having nearly shot their sorrowful voice. Gently, almost lovingly, they placed their guitar in the corner by the bed and tossed any soiled clothing to the ground before turning the light off and crawling under the warm sheets, the smell of sex lingering evermore.

It was lucky for (y/n) that despite waking up late the following day, it was no matter seeing as it was a Saturday. The birds chirping, the sound of those stupid fucking neighbours flowing into the trailer, but no sun beaming through the windows. With a groan, (y/n) pulled themselves up, rubbing their eyes and smearing whatever liner was leftover from the previous night before swinging their legs over the side of their bed and padding over to the kitchen to brew themselves a coffee. They liked their coffee strong and slightly bitter, without sugar or milk, and certainly without the sound of their neighbours having a row. As their coffee brewed, they reached into their cabinet for a mug before slamming the door shut in annoyance. Do they not shut the fuck up?! It wasn’t like the fighting was new, it had been going on for quite some time and if it hadn’t become a daily part of (y/n)’s routine, they didn’t know what had. Usually, the fight would die down by the afternoon, the husband would start his Chevy Citation II, rev the engine and speed off. Sometimes he came back at 4 am, other times he’d leave for days. Rinse and repeat.

Eddie nearly tore his hair out every time the neighbours would argue, he would regularly drown them out with music or his own playing. Sometimes he too would leave, but today was different. They had started fighting as soon as he had talked himself up to leaving his trailer to go talk to (y/n). He had seen them around school, in the music rooms, alone in the lunch room, and he knew their car as soon as it pulled into the trailer park but one thing he hadn’t seen up until last night was (y/n) singing. He found their voice soothing yet haunting, the memory of sitting in the night, smoking, and listening following him to the dawn and compelled him to try to approach. He knew of their reputation but that didn’t matter, hell, even he had a reputation as some kind of cult leader due to his little school club. Hellfire wasn’t satanic, it was far from it. It was just a group of teenagers indulging in a tabletop roleplaying game. Truth be told, it was a fantastic creative outlet for everyone involved and it had brought the gang much closer together, but that didn’t matter to anyone else.

As soon as he heard the screeching of tires and the engine of the Chevy roar, he decided he would make his way over to (y/n)’s trailer. He threw on his Hellfire shirt, and his tattered jeans, before jogging over.

(Y/n) heard a knock on their trailer door and rolled their eyes, could they get a fucking moment of peace? Absolutely not apparently. They grabbed their mug, knuckled turning white, and unintentionally stomped over to the trailer door, ripping it open just before another knock landed. They didn’t give a shit that they were still in a t-shirt and underwear, they didn’t care that their hair was matted or that the remnants of their makeup were smudged across their eyes.

“What do you want?” (Y/n) hissed before being able to process who exactly was standing in front of them.

“My apologies,” The Prowler spoke, eyes wide as saucers, “I didn’t mean to bother you, I can uh…” He turned his head to look back at his trailer. (Y/n)’s eyes flicked over to where he was looking before a grim expression crossed their face. How he knew they lived here was obvious, but didn’t make it any less strange for (y/n). “Listen, I’ll get out of your hair, but I wanted to let you know that I heard you last night,” and with that, the grim expression turned to anger, (y/n) thinking he’d heard them hooking up, “and you sounded really good, I just- yeah.” Eddie rubbed the back of his neck.

“Excuse me?” (y/n) asked in shock. “Get the fuck away from me, you fucking Prowler.” They growled, baring their teeth, and body began to shake. The intensity of the venom in their voice shook Eddie to the core. Nobody had ever called him a Prowler, that was certainly a new name to add to the books. Eyes wide, he started stuttering, unsure of what (y/n) thought he was referring to, imagining that their wires got crossed somewhere.

“No no no!” He tried to backtrack quickly. “Your voice, your singing,” he tried quickly, bringing (y/n)’s anger down a few notches, They stared intently at Eddie, letting out a huff while pursing their lips in thought. So it wasn’t what they had initially thought. The white-hot anger began to subside and they fought the urge to snap back a nasty retort.

“Thanks.” The reply was curt, almost bitter but the venom softened up and the anger subsided. “Is that all you want?” (Y/n) asked, wondering when this waking nightmare would be over.

“I- well,” Eddie rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, his usual cocky demeanor fading quickly when around (y/n). He didn’t understand why they had this effect on him, but they did, “you’re new to Hawkins right?” He asked, earning a slow nod from the other, eyes squinting slightly and jaw tightening. “Look, I- I’ve seen how people have treated you, I’ve heard the rumours.” He bit his lip and looked away, fearing he’d be subject to (y/n)’s anger once again. Their demeanor, however, softened a bit. Maybe they should be giving a chance to The Prowler despite that he may have heard about their x-rated activities. “If you need someone, a friend, a shoulder to lean on, just… My trailers right over there.” He pointed his thumb behind him.

(Y/n) couldn’t help but take a better look at Eddie, the curly head of hair, the wide yet soft brown eyes, the crow's feet by his eyes, they could see this becoming dangerous, but was it more dangerous than sleeping around without care? Probably not. They sighed.

“I’ve been a dick.” They state before gently looking away and adding, “I appreciate the gesture, I know you probably think I can’t take care of myself, but I can.” They say, running a hand through their hair, thoughts racing. It would be easier to be a dick, and push Eddie away, but what if… no. No, they wouldn’t allow themselves the luxury.

“It’s not that I don’t think you can, it’s just that we’re freaks, you know? And us freaks, we have each other.” Eddie conceded, he wanted to include those who were cast out, to be there, give them a space to be themselves, and (y/n) was no exception. “Anyway, I came here to tell you that I love your voice, you’ve got a good one for the doom-like songs you're writing.” With that, Eddie turned back and started walking back home.

❦

Over the next few weeks, (y/n) avoided Eddie. He was too kind, and all they could think of was how he would probably be a golden retriever boyfriend. He tried to invite (y/n) to lunch, or even offer them a ride home from time to time. He’d somehow always be around and that made their blood boil and so they decided that it was time to push him away in any way that they could, which so happened to be inviting someone back to their trailer to fuck the desire out.

It was a Tuesday and (y/n) was having a drink at The Hideout, unbeknownst to them, Corroded Coffin, Eddie’s band, was playing. A groan left their lips and they ordered another round, trying to forget about the dashing smile and soft gaze that the metal head shot their way. They needed to get him out of their head and they thought that maybe if they filled their bed with someone else, it would do the trick. Luckily, or rather, unluckily, a tall and handsome man slid into the seat next to (y/n).

“Hey, sugar,” He purred causing them to gag, “can I buy you a drink?” (y/n) looked him up and down, he was built, but his get-up left much to be desired. A tight white t-shirt and blue jeans, nothing special, and yet it would do. His green eyes were piercing and his sandy blonde hair flopped in front of them. He needs a haircut.

“Depends what you’re offering.” (Y/n) retorted with a little wink before taking a swig of their beer. This is fucking exhausting. What they didn’t realise from this interaction is that Eddie was watching them. To say he didn’t have a soft spot for (y/n) would be a lie, though he tried to justify it by telling himself it’s just physical attraction the more he learned about them, the more drawn to them he became, and it was pretty easy given they were neighbors. He’d often poke his head out the window to see them feeding the birds, watering the little garden they had planted, petting the dogs, and playing with them, and he’d even seen them take in a stray cat. That’s not even touching on their haunting voice.

He was so distracted that he barely registered Jeff talking to him until he snapped his fingers in front of Eddie’s face. Only then did he tear his eyes from the sight he was fixated on - the man dragging (y/n) out by the hand.

“Dude, let’s go, we’re on in a minute.” With his eyes glued to the door, Eddie nodded slowly. When he managed to tear his eyes from the door he made his way to his guitar and picked it up violently before setting everything up, making sure all his pedals were where they belonged on the pedal board and that nothing was loose. He took one look at the guys, then trailed them back to the door, grip tightening on the neck of his guitar.

“Hey everyone, we’re Corroded Coffin, hope you enjoy.” And with that, he let the first chord ring out before throwing himself into a violent performance. To say the guys had seen something like this come from Eddie would be a lie. They hadn’t seen this much rage and passion in a long time. It had to be one of their best sets to date.

❦

“Are you enjoying yourself, sugar?” The man inquired as he went down on (y/n) and all they could do in response was moan. What else were they supposed to do? The man was going at them like a fucking dog licking peanut butter off a spoon. Has he ever even eaten someone out before? “Mmm yeah let me hear you moan baby.” He hummed. God, he spoke way too much.

“Just fuck me already.” They breathed out through half-gritted teeth, waiting for this hell to be over, why they expected any one-night stand to go well was beyond them.

“So fucking needy… Mmm, I like that.” The stranger growled. “You don’t mind if I don’t use a condom right?” With that, (y/n) shot up. “It just feels be-” The man got cut off and pushed away by (y/n)’s foot connecting to his shoulder.

“Get out.” Disbelief was plastered to his face. He went to protest but was promptly and swiftly cut off. “I don’t want your excuses, get up, get dressed, and get out, now! ” they roared before getting up and pulling their panties back on. The man did as instructed while cursing.

“Don’t need to be such a frigid ass bitch. Can’t believe people say you’re an easy lay.” With that, rage flooded (y/n) and they picked up the man’s belongings and swiftly opened the window, throwing them into the mud.

“Get the fuck out, get out of my sight, and so help me god, if you call me a frigid ass bitch again…” They started to shove the man towards the door. “I will cut your fucking dick off. Don’t come back.” And with that pointed threat, they shoved him out the door and slammed it in his face. (Y/n) locked the door before pressing their back to it and sighing, reaching around for a t-shirt before sinking down to the ground. They heard the man cursing as he picked up his clothes and walked off. The relief flooded them slowly but was almost immediately replaced with a feeling of guilt and regret. They felt dirty. For the first time since sleeping around, they felt dirty .

A knock came at their trailer door soon after – or so it seemed – honestly, (y/n) had lost track of time, dipping in and out of full consciousness. They had picked up a cigarette at some point and had started to smoke yet there was no recollection of it at all. Slowly, they got up and peeled the door open only to find Eddie in front and a dumbfounded look on his face.

“What the fuck? ” Eddie let out, eyes softening as he saw you. “Are you okay? He just spat something about you being frigid” Anger overtook him, he had somehow become protective of (y/n) despite the fact that they were avoiding him like the plague. He avoided mentioning that the thick-headed jock spat something or the other about fucking the town freak right after.

“Wha-” (y/n) began but couldn’t put two and two together. In fact, they didn’t understand why the man who was at their door just a couple of weeks ago and hadn’t been there since was so worried., “Eddie… I- Come in.” They tried before moving over to let the man through.

“What did he do? Did he hurt you, (y/n)?” That was the first time he’d used your name and it struck a chord. (Y/n)’s eyes almost softened up, almost , tears brimming their eyes and threatening to spill over. They took a minute, blood roaring through their ears like a river, it was similar to when you’d put a conch shell to your ear, and the pressure in their head was becoming too much.

“I’m… I’m tired.” They broke down, the river of tears spilling over and flowing down their cheeks. “He- No, no, I’m not okay.” And with that Eddie took them into his strong arms, tangling a hand in their hair and the other around their waist. (Y/n) stiffened with shock before gently relaxing into The Prowler, Eddie Munson, the man who seemed to be everywhere they went. He smelled of tobacco, oud, and something a little woodsy, and (y/n) could safely say it was addicting and it scared them how much it made them feel at home with this man.

“It’s okay…” Eddie muttered into (y/n)’s hair. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.” He just hoped that you couldn’t feel his heart hammering in his chest. This was the closest he’d been to you and he was so afraid to fuck it up.

#eddie x y/n #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #angst #enemies to friends to enemies to lovesr #enemies to lovers #well. kind of.#reader insert #french reader #moved to hawkins #strained relationships #slowburn #1986 #stranger things #eddie munson is alive #he's a cinnamon roll #reader is a hardass #nb reader

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dcxdpdabbles · 5 months ago

Note

I was thinking about Danny talking about Dan to the Justice League and all it would take would be a little slip of the tongue for Danny's "he's my evil future self" to be heard as "he's my evil future son." Because it's one thing to have futures where You turn evil, but another thing to have futures where your family members, your KIDS, turn evil.

Phantom was new to the Justice League team. He had been inducted only three months ago and could be seen coming and going at odd hours. No one really knew much about him.

Phantom was recommended by Wonder Woman during the last selection. Apparently, she knew him due to a mutual acquaintance, a woman named Pandora, who had asked the princess to meet the boy—teenager? Man? It was hard to know what to call him because his physical appearance was that of a youth when he was immortal. She rarely nominated anyone for membership, but the person was precious to the team when she did.

And the ghost was.

Although he needed some formal training, Phantom had an excellent grasp of his powers and the cleverness to pull off moves with them, which Batman even praised. Many of the members adored Phantom's willingness to take on any role in a team.

He never complained about letting someone else take the lead, followed orders without much trouble, blended well with anyone as a teammate, and, most of all, had compassion for civilians. Phantom was often the hero who lingered after a battle to help clean up and provide relief aid.

Civilians adored him, and his fans were growing in numbers.

Despite all of this, Phantom wasn't really close with anyone. The ghost rarely lingered after his missions or monitor duty. He flew in, kept to himself, and left out once he was done.

Phantom never started or helped the conversation progress if it was not mission-related. He wasn't as bad as Batman, but he made it hard to connect to him. Diana assured everyone it wasn't because Phantom did not like them—he was only shy.

It was hard to put the being who single-handedly held off Superman the last time he was mind-controlled next to the word shy. Yet they've seen it.

They saw him nervously play with his gloves as someone spoke to him, struggled to think of what to say in conversations, and even ducked his head when he got too anxious.

It was like whiplash to see the ghost go from a shy, nervous teenager to the one that stopped and held Superman in a taekwondo hold until Batman could stab the needle to get him free of mind control.

Then, that same powerful fighter drags himself to the crowd and the smocking city, ready to assist in any way.

Despite being exhausted and covered in wounds, Phantom helped the crew in charge of clearing the debris by lifting heavy objects and scanning the building for people needing medical attention.

Phantom had been more than willing to follow emergency services' commands, personally thanking the EMTs and firefighters once the chaos was over. When a little boy asked for a photo, Phantom told him they could take one when everything settled.

No one expected the ghost to keep to his word, finding the boy and his mother later at a hospital for that photo. He has been awfully apologetic that the camera could only catch a blurry outline of him with his glowing green eyes.

The little boy hadn't stopped grinning despite suffering a broken leg.

He was literally the sweetest little hero—Bruce had to remind himself that he was not an actual child and was, in fact, thousands of years old whenever he saw the ghost fidgeting with something while on monitor duty.

That's why, the day Phantom threw himself into one of the lounges couches with a distressed sigh, everyone in the area surrounded him.

"Everything alright, Phantom?" Asked Oliver as the ghost's glow flickered in and out of his usual glow.

The immortal did not remove his hands from his face but nodded. His glow lowered again as if reacting to his lie.

The heroes gave each other loaded looks before Diana stepped forward. "You seemed troubled, dear friend. Are you willing to allow us to lead an ear to your woes?"

"Dan is just giving me trouble," Phantom mumbled, his words muffled by his hands.

Wonder glanced at the others, but when they shrugged in confusion, she sat next to the teenager. Placing one supporting hand on his shoulder, she rubbed it gently and leaned towards him. "Who is Dan?"

"Me."

Barry blinks. "You?"

"Yeah, the evil me of the future."

Phantom becoming evil? That was inconceivable.

"Did something happen to make you think you're going evil?" Barry asks gently, taking the other open seat on Phantom's left. He places a warm hand on Phantom's hunched-over back and is violently reminded of how tiny the boy must have been when he died.

It breaks his heart. He's smaller than Wally.

"The ancient of Time showed me that he destroyed the world. I helped create him, so I had to be the one to stop him. For the good of the world."

Diana sucks in a gasp, making Oliver, Hal, Barry, and Dinah weary at once. She made the hand motion, signaling that she would explain later, making the other heroes nod. "I know you may blame yourself, but that was merely a warning from the gods. You still have time to change the outcome."

Phantom glances up from behind his fingers. "You really think so?"

"Yes, of course."

The ghost offers everyone a small smile before vanishing from sight. There are gasps and a desperate cry for his name, but eventually, they realize the ghost has left.

"What was that about?" Hal asks after a moment.

Wonder Woman stands, striding over to the large windows of the watch tower. Her eyes turn to the brightest star visible with a small, sad smile. "Clockwork is the name of the ancient- one of the gods- that controls time. He rarely has champions, but when he does, he often gives them glances of their future. Many claim it's more of a curse than a blessing, for they often see the worse of what is to become."

Dinah straightens. "You're saying Phantom really will go evil?"

"No." Diana closes her eyes. "Ghosts are formed in three ways. The first is death. Someone or something dies, and they are formed from the souls getting attached to ectoplasm. The second is that they are bestowed a duty and are created to keep that duty alive. It often governs a part of our reality- space, dreams, wishes, and even plants. The last is the least common due to how rare it is for ghosts to have powerful enough cores. It is to be born from a stronger ghost, taking pieces of their core and growing into their own person."

Diana turns back to the confused-looking heroes to deliver her blow. "Phantom said it was himself that turned evil, but referred to himself as "Dan". Ghosts do not change their names, for their names are part of what holds their cores together. This means Dan is not him but came from him. His son will grow to be evil, and Phantom will likely have to put him down per Clockwork's instructions for the good of the world."

Hal bites out a curse. "That's sick. How could the time god ask Phantom to kill his own kid? Even if he is evil, Phantom doesn't deserve to have that duty placed on his shoulders. He's just a kid."

"But he isn't," Barry sighs. "Phantom is older than ancient Egypt. He just looks like a kid."

"It does not matter." Wonder Woman declares. "Clockwork's warnings can be overturned. We just need to help Dan off the road of darkness while he is still young."

They call for a Justice League meeting, one that only includes the original team that founded the league, to discuss a strategy plan. At first, some want to change the meeting to discuss how to put down Dan, wondering if being Phantom's son made him just as powerful before Batman stands up.

Bruce does not like the idea that the boy will end up destroying the world, but he is the most outspoken about Dan's innocence in the present day. His scorching words make a few ashamed of themselves for giving up on saving the boy before even meeting him.

The meeting drags on for hours until they eventually agree that they will monitor the child. If they realize he is too far gone to save, they will be the ones to end him. Phantom did not deserve to be the killer.

Clark asked Phantom to bring Dan around and introduce him. They dress the indentation as a league-wide party for the member's family (those in the know). The ghost looked spooked before he agreed to bring his child to meet the team.

A week later, every hero smiles politely at the six-foot-tall man with flaming hair who introduces himself as Dan. He's as bulky as Bane, and his low, dark voice echoes through the room. It's comedic compared to the cracking voice of his father, who has to flout to make them the same height.

As soon as the pair of ghosts fly away to speak to Supergirl and Robin, Barry grabs Bruce's cape. "That's a full-grown man."

"I know"

"Bats, that man is built like a brick house. "

"Yes"

"I thought Phantom said he was three? How in the Speed force is that man three?"

"It seems ghosts age differently. Or they are formed to take on the age they desire. I need to do research."

While the surrounding founding members whisper to each other, more heroes arrive at the makeshift party, some in their costumes and some in their civilian identities.

There are various reactions to Dan. A few consider him Phantom's father or brother, but both ghosts quickly make faces. Phantom reminds someone no less than five times that Dan is his future self.

Wonder Woman has to follow the pair whispering to confuse members about the cultural differences between ghosts and children. She doesn't have to explain that to the magic users or those who have worked with ghosts before.

There were a few who had vastly different reactions.

The members of Young Justice, including Secret, all backed up the claims that ghosts did not change their names and were treating Dan as a Phantom's son without blinking an eye.

John Constantine looked at Dan and cooed. "Aw, a baby core. How old is he?"

Phantom cracks a smile while Dan scoffs. "Three"

"Adorable." He raised his flask in salute, "He's powerful. You must be so proud."

Phantom's smile becomes strained. "Thank you."

Across the room, the founding members swear they will save Dan no matter what, as the larger ghost rolls his eyes and crosses his arms.

#dcxdpdabbles #dcxdp crossover #misunderstandings #The cinnamon roll's son #Danny is the office (Justice Leauge) sweet heart #They think Dan is destined to destroy the world #So they will baby this full grown man to teach him right from wrong #Dan's core is only three years in that time 's earth #So he does register as a BABY GHOST #Part 1

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