#Secret Santa 2022 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

half-dead-ham · 2 years ago

Text

Family introductions

For @blue-soundwaves, merry Christmas!

summary: Danny and Tim have been dating for about a year now, figuring out their relationship between Tim’s vigilante duties and Danny’s Ghost King responsibilities. Danny is taking a small (unauthorized) break from his paperwork to find his bf flat on his ass sick trying to go on patrol. The only way to stop him was to take his place, and Danny was lucky they're the same size.

[Ao3: here!]

Being King of an entire dimension had its perks, the new powers, meeting new (alien!) civilizations and cultures, getting an actual mentor to help him figure everything out. Those were really cool, and oftentimes it was fun to figure out the new powers with said mentor and his friends, but at the moment all Danny could think about was how much it sucked to be king of the Zone.

Why, do you ask?

The paperwork.

Pariah Dark was many things, a tyrant, a conqueror, a fearsome warlord with a look that could melt steel, but he was not a good king. Might be stating the obvious, but ruling with an iron fist does not a just king make, and the evidence was clear in the sheer amount of paperwork the old king left behind. Several filing rooms had been allocated to the pileup since the previous king was forcefully put to rest, and now…

Now it was Danny's problem.

In the three years since he defeated The Mad King, and the two since he took the throne (only part time until he’d finished his human education) the amount of files and requests and notices Danny had had to go through was mind melting, and so far it had only been the ones of most importance! He tried to keep out of the filing rooms as much as possible, partly because the royal record keeper had a system for those rooms that for the half-life of him Danny could not wrap his head around, and partly because the amount of paperwork in those rooms made him want to melt into a puddle and not reform for the next century.

The one thing currently keeping him going while at his royal desk during summer break (other than his friends and family) was his boyfriend. They had met a year and a half ago when Danny had gone to Gotham on a STEM exchange program with Gotham Academy. They started talking after some incorrect statement the teacher had made about electromagnetism that they had both pointed out. From there they had basically spent the two weeks glued to each other, bouncing ideas off one another and creating coffee induced chaos in the science lab.

By the end of the exchange they had swapped contact information and promised each other to keep in contact as much as they could with their hectic schedules, them having important rich boy stuff and Danny with highschool and ghost king work.

A week later Tim had texted asking if he was Phantom.

He responded by asking whether or not he was Red Robin.

A few explanations and it all went downhill from there, them only getting more and more comfortable with each other, texting and calling after patrolls, Danny abusing his newfound portal making power to hop over to Gotham for hangout sessions, then sleep overs, then spending weekends.

It was Tim that eventually asked him out, and Ancients dammit, he was too cute not to say yes.

It went on pretty well after that, Tim telling him about his family and their nightly activities, how he got into the whole thing himself (which Danny just had to laugh at) and all the… feuds he and his brothers have had since then.

Danny personally wanted a few words with his boyfriend's adopted family, just a few, but he respected Tim’s wish to keep their relationship a secret, with Tim explaining that if his family knew he'd never get away from them.

Right now he’d love for that to happen.

Danny was on his second week of summer vacation, and his second week of ghostly paperwork. The Observants had all but whisked him away the first day of break, and the only thing currently saving him from a lecture about staying out late is the fact that his parents don’t keep up with where he goes during the day and his late hours in the office (and sometimes a little help from Clockwork,) keeping him out until everyone was already in bed.

The observants shuffled him from meeting to desk work and back, always keeping an eye on him so he couldn’t just run off. He had no excuse (that they would take) to keep him from working his way through the stacks they deposited on his desk, and made their opinions of his “inconsistent and intolerable” working habits very well known to Danny.

Ancients, he needed a break.

And just as he thought that for the fifth time that hour (was it an hour? Time was so inconsistent in the realms,) the opportunity for a breather presented itself. Danny was halfway through his most recent stack when the door opened. Another Observant than the ones that had been keeping an eye on him had barged in, fuming about something going on at the Tribunal HQ. They screeched at each other for what must have been half an hour, talking “impossibilities” and “needing to speak to Clockwork about this” before giving him a stern “don’t you dare get up from that chair,” then racing off to do their freaky hivemind shouting match between themselves.

Needless to say Danny didn’t listen to them.

First thing to do was stretch. With the Observants breathing down his neck, Danny barely had any room to move. He felt like being back in school, having to ask for a stretch or bathroom break, not to mention the amount of grumbling from Bert, the Observant currently watching him, that Danny very quickly learned to tune out.

Lacing his fingers and lifting his arms above his head, Danny heard more than a few sickeningly satisfying pops run down his back, even a few in his neck afterwards. He did a few stretches, even sneaking in a few yoga poses Jazz had shown him before, and with each different move he felt something stretch or unstiffen, even a few more satisfying pops here and there.

Next thing on the agenda? Get the hell out of the Realms.

Specifically, to Tim’s place. The Observants would probably check Amity first when they find him gone, and he wanted as much time as he could get out of this. Tim doesn’t usually mind his impromptu visits, and even if he’s out on patrol just getting to see him when he comes back would be nice.

Even with the paperwork Danny had been finding ways to keep in contact, a missive here, a text there. Not a lot, but they were both busy, and they both knew that.

It was with great joy that Danny grabbed the folds of reality and tore, creating a tear in space big enough for him to step through to his favourtie humans home. Reasserting his heartbeat with his human form Danny found himself in the darkness of the upstairs bathroom. It made sense for the bathroom to be dark given the time, but the presence in the apartment gave him pause. The little digital clock on the bathroom shelf indicated that Tim should be on patrol by now, if not just leaving, but the human's presence was down in the living room.

“Timmy?” Danny called out into the equally dark apartment as he opened the bathroom door. A low groan emanating from where Danny could feel Tim’s presence didn’t ease his worry as Danny crept his way through the upper floor and down the stairs to find his boyfriend.

Another groan had Danny rushing down the rest of the flight of stairs, jumping the last three and turning to the living room. Shuffling behind the couch had Danny running around the corner to find Tim, in full Red Robin uniform, struggling to get up off the floor on weak legs.

“Tim!” Danny rushed over to catch a shaking Tim from collapsing again, grabbing him by the cape before pulling his human into his arms. He was pale and sweating, with the vigilantes mask crumpled as he screwed his eyes shut with nausea at the sudden altitude shift.

"Danny?" Tim groaned as he cracked one eye open. Danny was frantically checking the bird over, peeling his mask off to check his eyes, placing fingers to his neck to read his pulse, and placing the back of his hand against the human's forehead to check his temperature. Tim made a small sigh at cooled contact, and while Danny noticed he was burning up, it wasn't to a dangerous degree. Right now it just seemed as though Tim had caught a really bad cold.

"Tim, what the hell? Why are you trying to scare me to full death by trying to go tour the realms in your costume‽" Danny whisper-shouted to the vigilante in his arms, noting the bird's costume was out of place in certain spots. Did he put his costume on like this?

The bird groaned as he tried to sit up, but the grip Danny still had on his cape prevented it.

"Gotta… go, Bats called… bigg breakout a’… Arkham… nnneed to help…" With the way Tim was shaking, he couldn't help anyone, let alone leave the apartment. Another attempt at getting up had Danny sighing at his boyfriends antics, what's with these Gotham vigilantes' and their need for self sacrificing?

"Tim, you look halfway to your grave, I'm not letting you out on patrol, not like this," gently the half-ghost repositioned his grip on the human's shoulders, snaking his other arm around his knees and picking the teen up bridal-style. With another glance down he started walking, softly adding in, "how did you even get up here? A light breeze would make you crumple."

Dazedly Tim made a confused grunt, seemingly only realizing he was not, in fact, in The Nest downstairs and actually in his living room. The wrinkles between his eyebrows would be cute if he wasn't looking about as dead as Danny was.

"Wazn… this bad… before-" a dry cough wracked through his frame, causing Danny to readjust his grip slightly. "-fought Ivvy yeserday… got hit… didn think it wass 'nything to worry 'bout… till now…" he trailed off as they reached his bedroom, watching with half lidded eyes as Danny carefully opened and maneuvered them through the door and striding over to place Tim down on the bed.

As Danny started taking Tims cape from around his shoulder he grabbed Danny by the arm.

“Nnnoooo… Batz’l kill mee.. f’I don go outt…” Tim whined, trying to simultaneously push danny off and prop himself up, but his shaky arms barely held his weight and before long he was back on the bed with his cape removed.

“Tim, you look like shit,” the ghost boy replied bluntly, “you really think you'll be able to help anyone like this?”

Nothing but a soft grunt came from the bed bound bird as Danny folded up his boyfriends cape, setting it down lightly on the dresser nearby. He turned around to see his boyfriend covering his eyes with his arm… Was he crying?

“Boo? Boo what's wrong?” Walking back over he saw his boyfriend was indeed tearing up, using his arm to try and hide the damp rolling down his cheeks and sniffling softly. Danny kneeled next to the bed and took the arm, revealing Tim, crying and pouting like a child. It was so cute, Danny had to resist taking a picture.

“Bruce’ll be mad…” he heard the sick teen mumble softly. Danny had to sigh, why was Tim suddenly acting like a five year old? Was it because of what he got hit with yesterday? Tim had said there was an Arkham breakout, so people could be in danger if they didn’t have enough people to round all the villains up, but Tim couldn’t be left alone… But but if he went out he could maybe find Ivy and ask her for an antidote, but but but he couldn’t go out as Phantom because he still hadn’t been introduced to the family yet…

Ugh, this was giving him a headache.

Stewing in his own head wouldn’t do any good, Tim was supposed to be out for patrol by now. Danny absently looked around the spacious bedroom, eyes landing on nothing until he spotted the folded cape on the dresser.

He and Tim shared quite a few characteristics, height, figure, relative facial features…

A plan formed in Danny’s head as he stood up, a half assed, crazy plan, but one that just might work. Quickly he started stripping Tim of his Red Robin gear, knowing roughly how to take it off and put it on from the few times he had shadowed Tim on his patrol. He replaced the costume with a loose sleep shirt and shorts, then just as quickly stripped himself. A small gasp had him stop halfway through, turning to see Tim with clearer eyes. Tim was looking at him put on the costume. A blush crept onto Danny’s face for a reason he couldn’t figure out, but it had stalled him long enough for Tim to regain some rational speech.

“Danny… what are you doing?” Tim asked, looking absolutely and utterly confused, cute.

“What does it look like I’m doing Polaris? I’m getting Red Robin ready for patrol,” he turned back to finish putting on the costume. It fit him well, with only a few minor adjustments to his form he filled it out nicely. All zipped up and caped, he didn’t look that much different to Tim, and he spun around to show off, even giving little jazz hands as he faced Tim.

Danny couldn’t tell if the blush on the boy's face was due to the fever or the pet-name, but the calculating look was aimed at him nonetheless.

“How do I look, Starlight? Pretty similar?” Danny gave his best smile, even at the near glare his boyfriend was scrutinizing him with. He really hoped the glare was due to hazy vision and not him being mad.

“Bruce’ll find out,” Tim grumbled, but didn’t deny he looked the part.

“Only if we’re together too long. I feel like I know you well enough to act like you in front of them for a little,” he replied humorously as he applied the domino mask to his own face. It didn’t restrict his vision as much as he thought it would, and the readouts streaming into the lenses was pretty useful, if a bit distracting.

“‘Nd the hair?” Tim questioned hoarsely, looking at the mop of black locks that was too short to fall like Tim’s but too long to say he just had it cut.

That was easily fixed with Danny running his fingers through his hair, using the little trick to help show off his form changing and growing at a thought. When his hand dropped he looked like Tim, if Tim had gone through a windstorm and came out with messy hair. The mess was fixed, not entirely but enough, for Danny to look near identical with the mask on.

Another calculating look over from Tim and he seemed to pass his test.

“‘Nd… the voice?”

“A little bit of precise muscle control and I’m peachy,” Danny replied easily in Tim’s voice. Sure, he’s been told by Sam and Tucker that the voice changing was creepy, but for this?

For this it works perfectly.

Tim made a similar face to his friends when he had showed off the voice manipulation, but made a grunt of approval at the display. A nod and Danny was making another swirling green vortex to his castle, popping his head through to a hallway. Sticking an arm through Danny pulled a very startled footmen through the portal into the bedroom.

“You, you aren’t busy, are you?” He asked the footman in ghost speak.

If the ghost wasn’t startled at being pulled into the human world, they were with his lord addressing him personally.

“N-no my lord! I am here to serve!” They hastily replied with a deep bow.

“Good, I’d like you to watch over my human for a while. He’s bedridden with illness and I’m going to be taking over his duties for the night so he doesn’t get the crap beaten out of him by his boss,” Danny waved off the bow, rolling his eyes at another rejection of his order to not bow at him.

The footman looked between the bedridden human and his king in panic. “But my lord, I couldn’t possibly take care of a human! It’s been too long since I was alive for me to remember how to care for a sick mortal, and if I were to accidentally damage them my crime would surely be severe!”

Danny couldn’t stop the chuckle that came from his throat as he replied “Don’t worry, too much. I just need you to keep a water glass full and come get me if he looks like he’s getting worse.”

Danny tilted to look at Tim with a pointed glare, “you will stay in bed and sleep to get better, right Tim?”

A grumble and wave as his human turned away from him was as good enough a reply as he was going to get. So he quickly phased through to the kitchen to swipe a glass, led the footman, Markov, to the bathroom to show him how to use the tap on the sink, then he was racing across the rooftops to where the bat family usually assembles for missions.

So, maybe Danny didn’t entirely think his plan through when he first thought of it.

Why?

The bats were very intimidating up close.

Danny had made it to the rendezvous rooftop just fine, even using the grapple to propel himself across the city instead of flying like he wanted to! (He really wanted to, controlled falling with only a tiny cable to keep him from going splat? He may be self sacrificial but not suicidal.) Had to keep up the Red Robin persona, after all. By the time he had made it to the predestined rooftop the rest of the clan had already arrived and were just barely waiting for him. Barely.

“The hell were you, Replacement?” The guy in the leather jacket and death stank snapped at him. Huh, Danny thought Red Hood didn’t like working with Tim, but that question almost made it seem like the antihero was worried for him. “Dickwing here wouldn’t shut up about you not being here early, and we were the ones that had to deal with it!” Ah, so that’s what it was.

Nightwing elbowed Hood with a glare, before turning to Danny with an apologetic smile. “What he meant to say was that we were all worried when you weren’t here at the usual time, something we should know about, Timmy?”

“Nothing, really,” he replied in Tim’s voice. “I had an unexpected visitor and getting them to leave took longer than expected, that's all.”

He could feel someone’s gaze on him, from just beyond the shadows of the roof's stairway access. Danny could only imagine which more observant bat was in there watching him. Tim had mentioned one of his sisters being able to read body language fluently, he only hoped that if he kept his stance relaxed and open and not looked he’d at least be able to get through this.

“I expect a more in depth answer when I read your report, Red Robin,” the sound of gravel came from Danny’s left, and turning revealed the big Bat himself. Ancients, Danny really needed to keep calm here, Tim had said his adopted dad was intimidating, but holy crap, Batman!

With how silent the bat was he really hoped he didn’t die and become a ghost, he would be terrifying. (Or maybe he should want Batman to become a ghost? Then Tim could still see him and he’d get a fearsome new strategist.)

A smaller form rounded the imposing caped crusader, one Danny recognized instantly. It was hard not to recognize the youngest Wayne with how often his starlight complained about him.

“Drake,” Robin said as he crossed his arms.

“Brat,” Danny replied with a nod of his head.

Batman made a grunt as he turned to face the rest of the group.

“We’re splitting up to cover more ground, teams of two,” the Bat motions to the shadow and Nightwing, with Orphan stepping out of the darkness to be better addressed. “Orphan and Nightwing will be taking the west side, Robin and Spoiler-” he points to the child and the blonde in purple sitting above Orphan on the access hut roof. “-you’ll take the south. Red Robin and Red Hood-”

“If you say anywhere other than the north, old man, I swear-”

“-you’ll be taking the north,” he cuts over Hood’s rant quickly. How used to that was he? Danny could only imagine.

“I’ll be taking the southside, with Oracle on lookout. We have reports of the joker running around, if anyone spots him do not engage. Call for backup and keep a safe distance,” he turns to give what Danny thinks is a glare to Red Hood, the cowl makes it a little hard to guess.

“Are we clear?” Batman challenged, clearly expecting only a yes. A glare-off started and Danny could swear he saw sparks.

Finally, after a good five minutes, Hood relented, huffing out a “Clear,” between clenched teeth. Everyone else sounded off their confirmations as they left in different directions, with Oracle relaying sightings of various rouges through their comms. Seems he and Hood were on the trail of the Riddler to start, with him being spotted near Gotham stadium.

With the directions given from Oracle, Danny had to use a tiny amount of flight to catch up to Red Hood, who had started his run just after the grumble to B. Seems he was trying to lose him, if the dissatisfied grunt when Danny caught up was anything to go by.

Good news, The Riddler was an easy catch, running around in the stadium underground trying to get ready for whatever hair-brained scheme he’d come up with, only to be knocked cold by a few rubber bullets to the back and bo staff to the face. There were a few bombs to dispose of, and while Danny didn’t actually know how to safely dispose of a bomb safely, he did have the ability to pocket inanimate objects into a space between spaces, and no one really needed to see the bombs he disposed of right away.

He figured he could give them to Tim to disarm and he’ll be able to give them to the police later.

Bad news, he and Red Hood split up to make sure they got all the bombs in the basement floors, making it really easy for Hood to ditch once he was done and leave Danny alone.

Coulda at least given him a heads up, so he didn’t try to wait for him while the police showed up for the weirdo in green. Guess he was on his own then.

Propelling himself off another rooftop to the northwestern port, Danny absently listened to the chatter of the other bats over the comms. They all liked making small talk, with Nightwing being the most talkative. Apparently Tim was just about as talkative as his brother, as Nightwing made a comment towards him saying something along the lines of “Tim, you good? You’re quieter than normal tonight,” and he had to spin something about how he was fine, and he was just thinking about something his guest had said before he left and left it at that.

The docks were just as haunted as he remembered, with shades and whisps floating from warehouse to warehouse aimlessly. Danny remembered a few villain hideouts around here from the cases Tim had shared with him, and it was better to be safe than sorry with this port being closest to Arkham.

Danny wasn’t finding anything immediately dangerous as he went from one corrugated roof to the next, thanking whoever staged the breakout mentally that they had decided to do it during a dry spell. He would not do well as a regular human on slick roofs, ancients only knew what would happen if Tim fell from this height just because he slipped.

A clattering noise coming from a few buildings in front of him startled him enough to stop. He was nearing the end of the docks, and the warehouses were becoming sparse enough to see the more residential buildings not too far from him. More noise and he zeroed in on the warehouse it was coming from.

One of the Joker's known hideouts.

Danny really didn’t like the situation he had just found himself in.

“Oracle,” Danny clicked on his comms, silencing whatever Nightwing was about to say. “I’m at Port Hill on the northern point, there's movement inside one of Joker’s hideouts.”

That got everyone's attention, silencing any chatter they may be having on private channels. B’s line clicked on and the low grumble practically shook Danny’s core.

“Red Robin, maintain your position, everyone else rendezvous at his position.”

Several sounds of confirmation could be heard, with eta’s coming in just after. Looks like Danny will be staying in place for a while, so he might as well plop himself down on the ledge of the roof next to the one he was watching.

He busied himself with counting the ridges of the roof as he swung his feet rhythmically. Not really focusing on anything except the weak presences of the nearby spirits as they wandered around the port.

A shrill scream cut through his daydreaming, coming form the warehouse in front of him.

Shit, did the Joker take a hostage?

His core flared to life with protective urges, needing to make sure the origin of the scream really was someone in need, and if there really was a hostage that they could get out safely before whatever the clown had in store for them played out.

Great, this was so going to get him in trouble.

Danny clicked the comms alive once more, relaying the new information to the bats. “Just heard a scream, I think the clown might have taken a hostage.”

“Red Robin, don’t engage. We’ll be able to handle a hostage more efficiently together.”

“But B, we may not have the time to wait! He’s probably waiting for us all to come in guns blazing so he can kill them in front of us!”

“My orders are the same, do not engage,” Batman shut his comms off after that, leaving no more room to argue.

Danny turned his own comm off and growled, deep and inhuman. He couldn’t just not go and try to help. If someone was in there and Danny stayed? He didn’t want to remember the burning his core would give him in response. Making up his mind, he grinned a too wide smile as the whites of his domino lit up green.

Fuck Batman, time for some fun.

Finding a way in was easy, as the roof was lined with windows just below the overhang. They were dirty and rusted at the hinges, but gave easily when he pulled enough against one. He managed to pull one open just enough to squeeze through and drop himself onto one of the catwalks snaking through the rafters of the building.

The place itself was packed with clown themed contraband from wall to wall, some being just benign stage props and others being rather nasty looking contraptions. Danny was pretty sure he spotted an electric chair knocked over in a ball pit.

The center of the warehouse was cleared of the clutter, rounded to the main doors like some inverse stage. Strapped to a chair in the center of the clearing was a guy, maybe mid twenties, with short brown hair and gray hoodie. Poor guy must have been picked up off the street on the Clowns way here, he was gagged and wide eyed with terror.

The hostage was here, and other than looking a little scuffed up he seemed fine, but where was the Joker?

Danny crept along the catwalk silently to canvas the rest of the warehouse for the Clown, even jumping a few beams to get a better vantage. No sign of him. The probability of him going out for a smoke break or something was pretty low, but as Danny’s core was still screaming at him to get the hostage out of here, he'd rather take the chance of a trap than get the guy hurt.

When he returned to his original spot on the catwalk there was still no change to the guy in the chair, no noise other than his muffled gasps and sobs and no shuffling in any other part of the building. Silently Danny slid off the platform to the concrete floor below, crouching and using a bit of flight to negate the impact he had with the ground. He scanned the room once more, looking to see if anything had changed with the new perspective. Still nothing.

Ancients, this situation had ‘Trap’ written all over it in bright red letters.

Still, he made his way over to the guy strapped to the chair, who by then had noticed him and was looking at Danny with tearful eyes. The spotlight overhead cast most of the building's innards in shadow once Danny stepped inside, but he’d still have the shadows and the guy to help him notice if anyone snuck up on him.

Danny’s first order of business was to ungag the guy, both to help him breathe and to ask the guy some questions.

“You’re Red Robin,” the dude sputtered eloquently.

“Sure am,” Danny replied with a huff, moving to untie the guy's arms from behind him.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he added on nervously, shifting his gaze around as he tried to look for invisible enemies.

“Well sorry to disappoint,” Danny grumbled as he moved from the knots behind the guy to the ones tying his legs.

“No, no, you don’t get it! He’s waiting for you bats! He went somewhere a while ago and who knows how long it’ll be before he gets back!” The guy was nearing a panic attack with how quickly his breath was coming out. Danny needed to calm him down so they could both get out of here safely.

“What’s your name?” The non sequitur seems to jolt the guy out of the panic spiral he was going down.

“M-Mark. You really shouldn’t have come in here.”

“Well, Mark,” Danny rolled his eyes behind the domino. “What do you think he would’ve done to you if I hadn’t come in here to get you?”

At that Mark paled, not realizing exactly how bad his luck was tonight until Danny pointed it out. Mark stiffened, never letting his eyes still as he watched the shadows in front of the duo.

The knots came undone rather quickly, and while Danny wanted to question it, he could do it at a better time and place. He looked up, about to reassure Mark that they could make their way to the door now, when he had to cut himself off by dragging the guy off his chair. A bat narrowly missed the back of his head, clanging onto the metal back of the chair and denting the soft metal.

“Awwww, I was really hoping you wouldn’t notice till his head popped like a piñata,” a lilting voice said. The Clown Prince himself walked closer to the two, roughly kicking the chair out of his path as he propped the bat up on his shoulder.

“And, what? No Batsy? Too busy for good old Joker to come himself, so he sends one of his little birdies to play instead?” The Clown exaggerated a pout as he looked to the rafters. “Or are you just hiding Batsy‽ Waiting till I let my guard down!”

Now that he had a good look at the infamous circus freak, Dannny was amazed at just how hated the villain was. The stories Tim told him and the sites dedicated to the Clown really didn’t quite make it feel real, but now that Danny has had a chance to look at him up close. Just, wow.

That was a lot of curses.

The mass of negative energy slithered over and around the crazed man’s form, swirling around him like smoke and hanging off him, covering every inch of the human in thick, oily smoke. The smoke condensed behind him, forming a writhing mass of living curses, angry and sad and hateful. It looked like everyone the Clown ever killed had a piece of their soul stuck to the man just to make sure they knew he’d died in the afterlife. It was beautiful and terrifying at once, just how many had this one mortal killed?

“Seems like I’m just disappointing everyone tonight,” Danny mumbled under his breath as he refocused and got himself and the hostage to their feet, bringing out his bo staff carefully. He placed himself between the hostage and villain protectively as the Clown swung his head around to view the rafters, searching for something that wasn’t there.

Taking advantage of Joker's distraction, Danny pushed Mark towards the door behind them.

“But!-” Mark tried to get out but Danny silenced him before he could say anything more.

“Go, I’ll keep him busy,” and with another push Mark was running to the door and Joker’s attention was back on them.

“Hey! You’re letting my guppy get away, the nerve!” The crazed Clown exclaimed as he charged at Danny, taking a swing at his head and missing by a hair as he dodged. The clown changed the angle of his swing and the bat came down, nearly hitting Danny's shoulder if he hadn’t blocked it with his bo.

“Aw, well… Suppose I did catch a bird with my fish, so I still have some bait to lure the bat in,” another swing that glanced off Danny's staff had him taking a step back, unused to the weapon. Sure, Pandora had trained Danny in a few different weapon styles while training, but he wasn’t nearly as proficient in it as Tim was.

A sadistic grin grew on the Joker’s face as they swung again, manic glint in his eye and cackling as he spoke. “I never did manage to get you in my collection of plucked birdies, did I? Maybe once I clip your wings I’ll give you to the Bat as a gift! Another dead bird for his flock!” A louder cackle and another dodge of the bat as Danny's thoughts swirled in the new information.

Another dead bird? A few things came to mind, including the worrying smell of death revived from another red themed vigilante. The fact that this maniac had got one of Tim’s brothers and killed them, and now he wanted to do the same to another one?

Danny’s core was icing in his chest at the thought.

Dropping any pretence of dodging the next swing Danny let the Clown cackle triumphantly as his bat connected with the side of the hero's face. The laughter turned into annoyed grunt as the Joker dropped the bat in favour of clutching his wrist, now numb and tingly from the impact. Danny hadn’t moved an inch from the swing, watching the confusion grow on the Clown’s face as he looked to the supposed bird in front of him.

“What-” the Clown started but silenced himself at the deep chuckle Danny forced out of his throat, much too deep for someone of Tim’s stature to produce.

“See, now you’ve gone and did something you shouldn’t have, Boingo.” Danny stated, using his own voice and lacing it with a ghostly chill. “You just threatened the lives of people under my protection. Just the fact that you’ve already done something as great as killed one had you on thin fucking ice, but you threatening my people in front of me?” Another low chuckle escaped his throat as he smiled with lips pulled back too far and teeth too sharp. He could see the glow his eyes were putting off on the rims of the domino as he cocked his head jarringly to the side.

“Now we play my game.”

Bruce was worried, they hadn’t made good time to the north port and Tim hadn’t responded when they had tried to ask him more about the situation.

Now, it wasn’t that Bruce didn’t trust his sons, he just didn't trust them against someone like the Joker. He’d already lost one son to the mad man, and even if he did get him back he couldn’t afford to lose another.

Bruce was the last to arrive at the port, and scanning his children left one unaccounted for. He had told Tim to hold his position, why did his kids never listen?

Jason, the first on scene had told them Tim was nowhere in sight, and when Dick asked why he wasn’t with him in the first place he grumbled something about losing him while apprehending The Riddler in the sports stadium underbelly. While Bruse could have called him out on the lie he had more pressing things to think about, so he left that to Dick.

One more look to his children before they dispersed with a nod, off to find their own ways into the building as Bruce headed for the warehouse bay doors. He landed on the ground silently, noting the doors were left open enough for him to move in without moving them. Something intentional? A trap maybe? Dread filled his gut as he realised Tim would have been alone while possibly walking into a death trap.

Two taps over the comms signaled everyone in position, and a tap to his own comm gave them the go to start going in. Bruce maneuvered himself through the door to find a singular overhead bulb illuminating a cleared out space in an otherwise packed room. A steel bat lay dented a few feet from the door, warped at an angle suggesting it had hit something denser than it. A metal chair was on the edge of the cone of light, clearly knocked out of the way as it sat on its side, another dent on its back clearly seen.

At the opposite end of the circle was Tim, unmoving with his back facing Bruce. From his point of view he couldn’t see anything wrong with the boy, but he could tell something was wrong. Tim was too still, his situational awareness would normally have alerted the boy to Bruce coming up behind him, yet he didn’t move to face him.

More taps over the comm signaled an all clear, and still Tim didn’t move, proving he had taken his comm out earlier. Bruce moved to just behind the boy, hearing the soft thumps as the rest of his family made their way down.

“Tim?” Bruce asked softly, fearing dark scenarios with Joker’s poisonous smile on his son.

Finally, Tim moved. Turning to face Bruce with a questioning hum. Bruce minutely sagged in relief, the boy wasn't smiling, that was good. Something still didn’t sit well in his stomach, though he couldn’t place what.

“You disobeyed orders,” he ground out. He knew his son was safe, now he was in deep trouble.

“Yeah, well,” Tim shrugged nonchalantly. “You were late.”

Bruce’s brows came together under the cowl, as he noted a few of his kids stealing glances at each other. That wasn’t something Tim would say. Something wasn’t adding up here, with Joker being nowhere in sight and Tim acting off.

Tim turned his head to follow Cassandra as she moved next to Bruce, Keeping a critical eye on Tim while she spoke.

“Not Tim.”

Those two words sent everyone on high alert, tensing for a fight now that the imposter was outed. Not-Tim didn’t move, keeping his posture relaxed as he smirked.

“You knew the whole time, didn’t you?” The imposter asked in an unfamiliar voice, his tone almost sounding amused with the outcome. Cassandra nodded once, confirming the man’s assumption and he chuckled, shifting to place his weight on one foot as he brought his hand up to scratch at the back of his neck.

“Was it anything in particular, or did you just read me that well?” He asked, still no heat to his tone. By now the others were beyond confused, looking between each other in uncertainty as their forms dropped with the tension, though Jason and Damian still kept their weapons raised.

Bruce would really like to know what was going on right now.

Cassandra smiled at the man in front of them, eyes crinkling over the half mask. The man gave another chuckle as he moved his hand from his neck to his hair, carding his fingers through the mop. When he set his hand down again his hair had become shorter, no cutting or pulling it back, just magically shorter.

Bruised wanted to groan, he hated dealing with magic.

“If you aren’t Tim, then where is he?” Dick asked cautiously.

“He’s at home, sleeping off whatever Dr. Ivy hit him with the last night you went on patrol,” the stranger replied easily. A glance to his daughter beside him told Bruce he was telling the truth.

“What, is he sick?” Stephanie asked with a scoff. “That's bull, he said himself that he felt fine after taking it, for all we know you could be lying.”

“Believe me, or don’t,” the stranger shrugged, pulling his legs up to sit cross-legged in the air as he spoke. “I have someone keeping an eye on his condition while I take his place for the night. He was delusional and could barely stand, I found him in his living room trying to jump out the window.”

A snort from Jason's direction was cut short with a grunt. The stranger before them snickered.

“Y’know, you guys are a lot more fun when you don’t have a mission to be focused on. Maybe I’ll ask Tim if we can hang out sometime now that I’ve met you.”

Bruce narrowed his eyes at the stranger, something still wasn’t adding up, and it had nothing to do with the floating act. Before he could pursue it, though, Jason brought up another good question.

“So where’s the Joker?” The stranger flinched, making Bruce tense again at the sheepish look on the beings face.

“Yeah, see well… About that…” he stuttered, before deflating, sinking a few inches in the air as he motioned over to a dark lump behind him just outside the light. There wasn’t anything special about the lump until Bruce let his eyes adjust some, he realised the lump had legs.

The Joker was curled up in a ball on the floor.

“What the hell‽” Jason alarmingly exclaimed as he backed up a step.

Bruce took two batarangs out of the pouch on his belt, ready to throw them at the being in front of them. “What did you do to him?” He growled in warning, making everyone raise their guard in waiting with him.

“It’s not my fault, okay‽ The dude was just really cursed, I just helped a little!” The being raised his hands as a show of peace, looking slightly panicked.

“What exactly did you help?” Dick asked, batons out at the ready.

“Well, the curses were pretty weak, so after I roughed him up a little I fed them a bit. I swear he’s not dead!”

“He sure fucking looks dead!” Was that a touch of glee to Jason’s voice? Best to ignore that for now.

“No, I swear! He’s just in a coma! He’ll come out of it in a month or two once the ectoplasm wears off!”

Well, he wasn’t dead at least, though now Bruce’s question really had to be asked.

“Who are you?” He looked the still floating being up and down one more time as a surprised look came over them, followed by a sheepish one.

“Oh, shoot, sorry. I guess I forgot to introduce myself.” The being places their feet back on the floor and sticks out their hand. “Hi, I’m Danny Fenton, I’m Tim’s boyfriend.”

#dpxdc #dp fic #merry holidays #secret santa 2022 #surprise #its a fic!#dp x dc fanfic #dp x dc crossover #danny phantom #tim drake #it starts as a sick fic but that isn't the focus

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chickenparm · 2 years ago

Text

Freak (Ghostface/gn!Reader)

oh hey merry christmas. this is my secret santa gift to @dad-dumpster my beloved.

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AO3 Link

Ghostface/gn!Reader 3,663 Words - NSFW Phone sex, stalking, degradation, semi-public sexual acts, fingering, the mask stays on

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For tenpin, these are all 8.5 inches in diameter & can weigh up to 16 pounds

“What is a bowling ball. Duh.” A pause, then, “Damn I’m good. Maybe I should sign up for this shit, huh?”

The cat says nothing. It doesn’t even look at you. Why would it? Felines have no perception of Jeopardy Masters, even while being in the presence of one. Their loss, you suppose. Yours as well, considering you get the next question wrong.

With the rain rattling your window panes, the smell of a TV dinner and popcorn lingering in your apartment, and the thickest blanket you own wrapped around you, tonight’s shaping up to be a pretty good evening off. No plans with friends that you’d cancel at the last minute because they were made while you were in good spirits, no obligations, no work tomorrow-

Though, the blissful silence of your phone is interrupted by a phone call. The number isn’t familiar - its area code isn’t one that you recognize, but it’s not being marked as spam by whatever bullshit blocker came with the phone to begin with. So with a mouthful of popcorn and the phone tucked between your ear and shoulder, you ask, “Hello?”

“Oh, you answered.”

“Thought about just letting it ring. Who is this? What do you want?”

“How rude.” As if cold-calling someone out of the blue wasn’t the definition of rude. But sure, go off mystery guy. He’s got a nice voice, even if his breathing is a little heavy and his words shake. It’s almost as if he’s nervous, but the quiet laugh that comes through the earpiece isn’t shuddering in the slightest.

“Alright, I’m hanging up. Lose my number.”

“Wait-”

You do not. And while there’s a rush of satisfaction at how you’ve cut him off, it’s short-lived with how quickly the number flashes across your screen again - except the last digit is different. Odd.

Answering with a sigh, you don’t get the chance to greet this person before he’s speaking quickly, “Let me just get… thirty seconds of your time. I’m not a telemarketer.”

“That’s exactly what a telemarketer would say, you know. It’s nearly midnight, don’t you have work in the morning or something?”

“Oh, sure.” The guy laughs again, and it’s almost sinister as it trails away. You can hear how his tongue darts out to wet his lips before he clarifies, “But there’s some business I’m trying to take care of, y’see.”

“Does that business involve bothering me on my night off? You still haven’t told me who you are.”

With a quiet grunt, you lift your legs up to prop your feet on the coffee table, nudging the popcorn bowl to the side so you could have room to cross at the ankles. The man’s breath hitches at the sound you make, and something just doesn’t seem right here. Clearing your throat as a sign for him to get to the point, he takes the hint.

“Maybe it’s bothering. Who knows, we might have a good time together.”

And if you were any less suspicious - and any more of an idiot - you wouldn’t have picked up on that sentence. It wouldn’t have put you on higher alert, and you definitely would not have been wary enough to listen closely and hear the slow wet sound that could be either someone rubbing their wet hands together, or someone stroking their dick.

You’re certain it’s the latter. It takes only one hand to beat his meat, and conveniently he’s got one available while talking on the phone. With a scoff, you confront him without delay, “Are you jerking it right now?”

“Nothing gets past you, huh?”

Against your better judgment, you come to the conclusion that the sound he makes when he has to grind his words out in an attempt at nonchalance is at least a little attractive. But then there’s the whole stranger-calling-you-to-beat-his-meat thing, and any semblance of your sick arousal at the situation goes out the window.

“You only asked for thirty seconds. Is that seriously as long as you can last? Loser.”

And he laughs. Full and from the back of his throat, the phone pulled away in an effort to keep himself from blowing your eardrums out with its volume. You don’t find it very funny, and with a grimace, you hang the phone up and block the number.

What a creep.

—

The sun is barely over the horizon when your phone rings again, pulling you from the sleep you’d only just fallen into. The number - unfamiliar, but not remote similar to the one from only a few hours prior - flashes across the screen just long enough for you to read it and pick up the phone.

“Hello?” A little more forceful than would be considered polite, except it’s just short of dawn and you’d been tossing and turning all night.

“Oh, did I wake you? I’ll be quick.”

God forbid you ever find this man, you’ll catch a homicide case. Rolling onto your back with a sigh, you ask, “Thirty seconds again? Don’t you have a hobby or something?”

“What if this is my hobby?”

“One-sided phone sex? Touch some grass, dude.” Palm pressed to your left eye, you hold pressure until your growing headache starts to subside. Then, you ask, “Do you need me to google you the number for a phone sex hotline? 30 seconds would be pretty cheap. I’ll even venmo you the money for it if you leave me alone.”

“Yeah, but their heart isn’t in it. They’re just after the money.” You can nearly see the way he shrugs, hear the rustling of fabric. Is he in bed? At least he’s comfortable while he’s ruining your night. If you could just make him cry, that would be just about even for all the grief he’s causing you.

A sharp inhale, held for a moment before he blows it out of his nose and confesses, “You’re just the right kind of mean.”

Oh fuck, okay. But also ew. Kinda hot though. A little. Mostly gross. He needs to know that was gross. It’s your god-given duty to call this dude out on being nasty.

“Are you shitting me right now?” Sitting up, sheets falling into your lap, you shiver from the chill in the air and the anticipation of what he just revealed. “You’re getting off on me degrading you? Making fun of you? No fucking way.”

“...yes fucking way.”

“You little freak!” Your laughter rings through the room, and you don’t pull away from the receiver like he’d done last time. You want him to hear this, to feel mortification at exactly how pathetic he just sounded. Whether he gets off on that too, you don’t care. “Is this a habit? Calling up strangers and getting them to tell you how much of a loser you are?”

“If it helps, no one’s been as thorough as you.” There’s a smile in his voice, the sound from the previous call is louder now. You’re on speaker phone.

“Did they know you were jerkin’ it? That you got off on them being disgusted at you?” An uncontrollable grin crosses your lips, spreading wide enough that your cheeks hurt from delight. Something in your gut twists, and you pointedly ignore it for the moment. “Pervert. That’s what you are. You’re out there taking upskirt shots of chicks on the train, I bet.”

The steady drag of his own hand pauses for a moment, before doubling-down and speeding up. A sick little thought crosses your mind that you want to see, to watch what you’re doing to him. His excitement spurs you on more, egging you further down the path he obviously wants you to take. And who are you to deny him, when it costs you nothing?

Chewing your cheek in thought, formulating the perfect words, you drop your voice a little and ask, “I bet you look real pathetic right now. Sitting there with me on speakerphone, touching yourself and begging for me to call you out on what a freak you are. A loser. Some lonely little pervert that can only get off when you’re humiliated.”

“Yes-”

“Do you think you’re going to get some reward for enduring this? As if I’d bother. If you were here, I’d kick you out the moment you were done shaking from getting off.” Sitting up on your knees, almost as if that would bring you to a position of power over your mystery caller, you jeer at him, “Or maybe I wouldn’t even let you. Maybe I’d bring you around just to watch you writhe like the nasty little worm you are, then leave you hanging. Perverts don’t deserve to cum.”

“Please,” his voice quakes, trailing off at the end into a breathy little sound that strikes you as almost pretty. Almost. A thick swallow comes through the line before he doubles back, “don’t do that to me. Pleasepleaseplease-”

“Jeeze, you’re a sad sack of shit aren’t you? Even your begging is lame.” The fingers that you hold your phone with are sweaty, nearly too slick to catch purchase on your plastic phone case. You grip it tighter, fingertips nudging the button that increases the volume until your ears are filled with the sounds of him frantically fucking his fist, his breathing laced with whines.

There’s a steady groan of bedsprings that suggest his hips are bucking into his own hand, rocking to the sound of his fist over his dick. You could make him groan louder-

“Fine, but only ‘cause I wanna know how stupid you sound when you cum. C’mon then, give it up. I wanna go to bed and you’re annoying.” Nothing at first, only the steady sound of his strokes. Your fingers itch to move in time, to smack his hand away and do it yourself because he’s taking too damn long.

Aggravated, you sigh into the receiver and push him further, “Well? I’m waiting. Get a move on, scumbag, I wanna go to bed.”

A choked-off curse comes over the line, and you can hear the sound of his release hitting something with its force. It’s likely the floor, but it sounded far too close to the phone and far too wet to be anything but himself. But, he’s already done, and he’s taken far longer than the thirty seconds he asked for.

Heavy breathing is the only sound from his half of the call. Impatiently, you wait for him to say anything at all, but it takes nearly a full minute for you to break the silence. “You’re welcome. Ungrateful one, you are.”

A scoff, tired and without any bite to it, “Told you, you’re the right kind of mean. Give me a second to get myself together. Jesus Christ.”

“You had sixty. That’s double what you wanted to start with, not to mention all my time you wasted in between just to get your rocks off, creep.”

Weakly he laughs. If you close your eyes, you can almost see the way he must be sprawled across a bed. Probably some mattress without a sheet, scratchy blankets and lumpy pillows surrounding him as he no doubt uses some sock to wipe the cum off his stomach. Gross.

What’s worse is you’re into it, throat closing at the thought of this pretty-sounding loser in some basement out there. There are probably ramen cups on his nightstand and a gaming computer in the corner that costs more than all of his belongings combined. Maybe you could ruin his life more - that’d be cool. Y’know, just keep him around for a while, string him along and take your frustrations out on this little weirdo.

Your quiet musings of how badly you plan to fuck this guy up are interrupted by him asking, “You mentioned venmo. What’s yours?”

“What’s it to you?”

“Well, that was better than a phone sex hotline,” a grunt as he likely sits up. Shit, even that sounds pretty. You nearly miss him offering, “and I’ll pay you every time you get me off.”

What a freak. By the time you get the notification that a payment has been received, your opinion of this guy has completely turned around. Well, maybe a little. If you can get paid and be a complete asshole? Well, that’s a win in your book.

Hell, you might be in love with the guy now.

—

Four calls later, you’re pretty familiar with your nameless, faceless phone-gimp.

While you’ve forgotten to ask for the payment each time, he hasn’t, and your bank account has never looked better for such easy work. All you do is listen to this guy jerk off on the phone while calling him a deadbeat piece of shit and you’re golden. Life has never been better.

But Forrest Gump said life is like a box of chocolates, and you knew it was too good to be true. One of the chocolates was swapped out for a turd, and you’re left speechless as your back presses against rain-wet brick, the world dark thanks to the figure that’s crowded you away from prying eyes.

Of course you watch the news - it’s too lonely in your apartment to not have something going in the background. So recognizing Ghostface is a no brainer, even when your brain is a little addled after an evening out with your friends. The stark white of his mask is all you can see, your pupils dilating as if it were as bright as the sun.

Terror is the smart thing to feel. And you’ve always been smart enough to be considered self-aware. So you’re terrified, shaking as your fingertips dig into the mortar between the bricks, as if having a handhold will save you. This guy is gonna kill you, and your little buddy on the phone is going to have to resort to phone sex hotlines because no one is going to put up with him like you have.

And then Ghostface speaks, and you realize oh, fuck. You’re not as smart as you thought.

“You didn’t answer the phone.”

Oh. Throat dry, voice cracking, you answer, “Uh… it died.”

“But it rang. You just didn’t pick up.”

“I was busy. I have a life outside listening to you jerk off-”

The mask nearly smashes into your face with how close he gets. The eyeholes should be see-through at this distance, but it’s so very black that you lose track of yourself while looking for what’s beneath it. If you weren’t so in tune with how he sounded at this point, you’d almost miss the sound of him sucking his tongue quietly in disappointment.

“I’m paying you, shouldn’t you keep yourself available in the meantime? I don’t think it’s too much to ask.”

And you’re annoyed. Because of course it’s too much to ask, to expect you to sit around your phone waiting to listen to Joe-Schmoe-Ghostface over here fondle himself while you let him know how grossed-out you are.

Or rather, lie about it. Really, you haven’t been that grossed out since that first time. And if your fingers travel elsewhere when he hangs up, he doesn’t need to know about it. That’s really not his business - the interaction ends with the venmo notification.

The sound of his sigh is louder when it hits the inside of his mask. Next to your head, his hands cage you in, and one leaves the brick to grab your shoulder. It could be innocent, if not for how quickly it changes with the slide of his wet glove to the base of your neck. The space between his thumb and forefinger press firmly, not enough to cut off your breath but more than adequate as a lingering threat to do so.

“But I’m not paying you now. So don’t think you can get away with being a brat. Consider this to be corrective action for poor performance in the workplace.”

Swallowing thickly, the movement difficult thanks to his hand, you watch with wide, stinging eyes as his other hand travels south. Across your collarbone, down your sternum, to the hem of your shirt where it dips beneath. Surely he can’t feel anything with the gloves on, but that doesn’t stop him at all. It makes little difference.

At your full-body shiver when his fingertips tease at the waistband of your pants, his head tilts to the side. Is it wonder, or confusion? The thickness of your thoughts aren’t able to be sifted into something coherent - only a constant thrum of excitement as you single-mindedly think about the potential for finally getting to see what’s been on the other side of your phone.

Centimeters at a time, his fingers push further, beneath both layers of your clothing and against the slickness of your arousal. Despite the chill in the air, his gloves are searing-hot against you, each of your nerves hyper aware of the way he casually strokes. There’s a smile in his voice as he murmurs beneath his breath, “I knew you weren’t as cold as you seem. You must really like me, huh?”

You want to rail against him and shout the complete opposite, to tell him that you’re drunk and addled and any old person could get you this frazzled. But there’s a time and place for that sort of thing, and the dynamic that’s existed up until tonight is insubstantial to the point of nonexistence. While before you might’ve held control, the drag of his fingertips against you speaks volumes of how it has switched.

And so, with a swallow and a shuddering breath, you nod your head and stare into the pitch black of his mask. What you don’t expect is his excited little laugh and the bump of his forehead against yours - cold and wet. It’s almost sweet, the closest thing you’ll get to a kiss while he wears that thing, and his middle finger pushes into you without preamble.

At the sudden sensation, your hips rock down against him, and he coos at you, “There it is. Sweet thing you are, I knew you weren’t prickly all the time.”

Without a moment to craft a rebuttal, his ring finger prods inside and your hand leaves the wall to wind into the fabric of his body suit, holding yourself steady when they crook just right. It happens with such ease that you’re unable to stop the whine of pleasure that bounces off the alleyway’s walls.

Ghostface could taunt you, he could demean you for being so needy all at once, but instead he strokes along that pinpoint spot that has your eyes snapping shut. The sound of his voice is all around you, encompassing with its proximity, the tone low and musing. “I thought to myself - surely something had to give. Don’t get me wrong, I love it when you’re mean. But knowing how you can be, it makes this so much sweeter.”

His head falls to your shoulder, mask digging into your neck as he lets you cling to him. The stretch of his leather-clad fingers is divine, perfect enough to satisfy as he works you closer to what you’ve pushed him toward so many times.

His voice is muffled now, the rain picking up and soaking the two of you steadily. “Don’t worry, I won’t make you beg.” Laughter, quiet and pleased, interrupts him for a brief moment. Then, unbearable softness, “You’ve been so good for me this whole time. I’ll treat you nicely - it’s what you deserve, after all.”

The hand that had once been at your neck now glides down your side, pressing into the dip of your waist before pushing beneath your shirt. With it hiked high enough to accommodate his hand, you should feel more exposed as he thumbs your nipple that hardens when exposed to the air. But Ghostface is above you, below you, inside and out. The rest of the world may as well not exist for all he’s managed to barricade you away.

The added sensation is nice, but it’s the speeding up of his thrusting fingers that send you into near-hysterics. Without a name to call, you can only bury your face against the side of his head and incoherently babble your appreciation for how good he is with his hands. For once, the only thing coming from your mouth is praise for him, and he positively preens beneath it as you clutch yourself closer.

“That’s it, there we go.” He has no right to be this soft with you, but he takes the liberty with unabashed confidence. “Glad I waited to hear you make these sounds in person. Wanted it to be special, y’know.”

With slowed fingers, guiding you down from your high, Ghostface gives you enough self-awareness to speak through a thick voice, “This is what you call special?”

“A little impromptu, I guess. Should I have brought flowers?”

And there is that snipping tone again, where he throws your attitude back as easily as you dish it to him. Rolling your head against the wall, you steady yourself as he pulls away and absently rights your clothes for you. Cute, you remark as he pointedly avoids wiping his soiled glove on your clothing. The air of the alleyway isn’t the nicest-smelling, but the coolness of it feels soothing as you inhale and respond, “That would’ve been appreciated.”

“Go home. I’ll meet you there with whatever I can pick up from the Seven-Eleven on the way.”

How romantic. Maybe you are in love with him, just a little. Stumbling down the alleyway, you feel his eyes at your back. Pointedly, you avoid thinking about how he knows where you live. Perhaps it’s better if you don’t look into it too much.

Just accept your flowers and try not to get lost in thought about how hard he’d been against your thigh, how badly you wanted to kiss him. Maybe he’s not the only creep here.

#ghostface #scream #ghostface x reader #gender-neutral reader #gn!reader #mind the a/n for content tags #gift fic #secret santa 2022

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