#prompt: coffeeshop AU

[harryjamespotterweek]

HJP Week 2023 - Day Four

Prompts

Friendship Omegaverse Coffeeshop AU

Prompts - SFW , NSFW , Tropes Rules & Guidelines - here or here. AO3: here

If you want the blog to reblog your work, please tag��@harryjamespotterweek and #hjpweek2023. 

[chiquilines]

Ochako my relatable academically exhausted queen

[alpineshift]

03 for NicoJack please :)

most certainly 🥰

[3] a tiny village bakery, the shelves stocked with freshly baked goods

"I don't like this."

Beside him, crouching at shelf level and carefully arranging the tray of sweet apple hand pies and chocolate banana muffins, Luca snorts.

"Haven't been hearing that one all week," he says sarcastically, and Nico nudges his older brother with his knee.

"I'm being serious," he complains. "Why aren't you more concerned about this? This is--this is direct competition!"

Luca straightens and gives Nico a very bored look.

"They're a coffee shop, Nicky. Their focus is coffee. Which is pretty good, by the way, if you ever bothered to go over and try. Which I also noticed, you haven't."

Nico doesn't pout, but it's a near thing. A Hughes Cup of Coffee has been the bane of his existence ever since they soft launched a month ago, unveiling a glossy red and white sign and a sleek, upscale interior. Apparently they're a family business too--three brothers, from what Nina reported when she stopped by to say hi.

(Fraternizing with the enemy, Nico had complained. Locking them down on the rent control agreement before the landlords could draw blood, Nina volleyed back.)

Nico should really be in the kitchen, focusing on his updated lemon cream tart recipe (always a hit with the local book club), but he just can't stop scowling at the coffee shop. Sure, it smells extra heavenly down their street and Nico has to admit the custom window lettering is pretty cool, and he's seen one of the brothers (one of the younger ones? with nice blue eyes and wavy honey-brown hair, probably?) try to wave at him from behind the cash once, but it's the principle of the thing.

"I bet you they buy the cheap mass-marketed stuff from the city to go with their drinks," he grumbles instead, slipping back into the kitchen.

"You wouldn't know, since you've never visited!" Luca hollers back.

He feels better once he falls into the comforting baking process. The kitchen is a delightful mess, the air filled with sweetness and warmth and spice and citrus. It's hot back here, and Nico's shed his sweater within minutes, down to his usual t-shirt and apron ensemble as he works. Luca pokes his head in at some point and says he has to run to the bank for change, but it's past rush hour anyway. He's humming along to the radio and he's just popped the last tray of blueberry scones into the oven when he hears the door open.

"Coming!" he calls, and wiping his hands down as he walks into the front. "How can I--"

He stops short. It's one of the Hughes brothers, the one who'd tried to wave at him, hovering nervously at the counter. When he catches sight of Nico, he raises his hand to wave again, then blushes and quickly puts it back down.

"Hey. Um. Hi. Nico, right? I'm one of the owners and baristas across the street--I'm Jack, my brothers and I just opened our shop. Just, uh, thought I'd come over to say hi. And, um, bring some coffee for you and your siblings."

He raises a tray housing three large takeaway cups. Scrawled on the lids are the letters L and N and another one with N, but there's a sticker of a seal on it.

"You and Nina have the same letter," Jack says sheepishly. "But she told me what your favourite animal was. And that you liked cappuccinos, which, luckily, is my specialty. So...these are for you."

"Oh," Nico croaks, then hurries to take the tray, because his mother raised him well and now that he's actually meeting Jack for the first time--wow. Wow.

(Is there a principle to follow when his neighbourhood barista is cute as hell and kind as hell and absolutely Nico's type?)

"Thank you," Nico manages, sincerely. "Uh--can I get you anything? What do you and your brothers like to eat? I can put together a sample box for you."

"Actually," Jack says, rather hopefully, "Whatever you've got baking back there smells fucking incredible. Literally makes me think of Thanksgiving dinner at home."

"Oh--our pumpkin cinnamon loafs," Nico says, and grins, chest warming with pride. "My mama's secret recipe. You want to come around and check it out? It's literally fresh out of the oven."

Jack beams. "I'd love to."

it’s almost hockey season again! send me a jacknico prompt?

[simp-for-long-hair]

✨️mason jar tropes✨️

[prompts-by-anjali]

"God, why are you staring at me?"

"You... you look um, really pretty today. Well, all the days, not that I stare at you or anything, not like a creep, but, um, yeah."

"Oh my GOD."

"I'm. I'm so sorry, I -- that wasn't professional."

"No, that was so sweet. I'm mortified. Thank you. I was a microbitch just now, wasn't I?"

"Mi-micro... bi--?"

"I'm so sorry. I mean, it's like this. I got into a fight with my dad over the stupidest thing and we never fight, you know? And I just... I always take out my bad mood on everyone around me, and I'm really sorry you were in the blast radius. You were literally just doing your job and then you were so nice to me and I was a total ass and not in a cute way. I'm so sorry. Let me make it up to you? Can I buy you a coffee?"

"You. You didn't do anything, uh, wrong. I just -- wait, coffee?"

"I mean, if you want to! Or something else if you're not into coffee? I could get you anything, really. You've been so nice to me, I just want to make it up to you."

"I... okay. Okay, coffee. Yes."

[okiankeno]

short descriptions of things I have in my drafts:

1.

Sarah is determined to find out more on the chase for this killer, but how can she trust her informant when he won't even let her in on his name? And why does he know so much? The deeper she digs, the less she knows.

And Cameron and him fighting all the time didn't help at all.

2.

Angela, a rogue, participates in a heist with other bandits into a well-fortified castle, expecting to roll out with coin. Amanda, a mage, and next in line to the throne of the house Cantaré, interferes. Arasha, her retainer, is less than thrilled to see the outcome of it.

3.

Ian prays. He prays for well wishes, for good luck. For forgiveness of the souls he has freed from this world, for those who have lost their spirits. He prays that he will not have to see the face of his lover again, and surely not in the face of the undead.

Because if he were forced to kill him once again, he may not have the strength to do it.

4.

When it rains, Angela is happy to see her holding that umbrella by her side, because when the sun shines, she knows Amanda will go away. Under their umbrella, the rain tapping away on the small, dry shelter they have, she has an excuse to be close. So she snuggles in closer to Amanda, basking in her warmth. There's a desire to be there. A desire to linger like the dewdrops upon the grass in the mornings after rainfall.

Yeah. Angela loves the rain.

[i-did-not-mean-to]

YOTP - July

Ah, I've forgotten to finish and upload this. Forgive me!

Pairing: Curumo x Aiwendil

Prompts: Vacation together, Power Swap, Enemies to Lovers, “Batman won’t like this”, Stars, Coffeeshop AU

Words: 2 015

Warnings: Hostility, a lost wallet, 1 bed trope, Aquarium, a kiss

Aiwendil pursed his lips but didn’t object when the rooms were assigned.

Curumo looked as if he’d bitten into a lemon, which was not exactly edifying either.

“All right?” Mairon asked impatiently.

“All right,” Aiwendil muttered. What else was he to say? He couldn’t very well tell his imperious top manager that he was afraid that Curumo might be unhappy.

Since he’d started working at the little, cosy coffee shop, he’d constantly found himself at odds with the tall, imperious, heart-wrenchingly alluring junior manager of the establishment.

At first, the tension had been distinctly hostile, and Aiwendil had suffered profoundly under the devastating certainty that he was loathed by his handsome superior when he’d done nothing to deserve such instant dislike as far as he recalled.

“We should go—I want to freshen up,” Curumo hissed without looking over and strode away.

Aiwendil followed him wordlessly, trying hard not to think of that hazy night of the last company Christmas party. Someone had spiked the punch, and they’d ended up making out frantically in the establishment’s impeccably clean backroom.

It had been an unexpected, cataclysmic event, and—to his knowledge—nobody else was aware of what had transpired.

Unfortunately, at least from Aiwendil’s perspective, such a thing had then never happened again.

On the contrary, from that incident onward, Curumo seemed to despise him even more; he could barely look at his young colleague without his thin-lipped mouth curling into a cruel, disgusted line.

They were, of course, much too professional to let the fraught enmity between them have any negative repercussions on the shop, and thus, the little business had known record figures this year around.

It had been generous of Melkor, the owner, to invite all his employees to a trip to the seaside during their obligatory off-season, and Aiwendil was far from ungrateful, but he now wished that he’d declined the offer, nevertheless.

Probably, it had all been a subterfuge to get Mairon, who managed most of the day-to-day affairs for Melkor, alone while wearing a skimpy bathing suit.

A sharp sting of envy shot through Aiwendil’s heart at the realisation that others fared much better with their workplace romances, and he vowed that he’d at least try to clear the air before he spent a whole weekend sharing a room with someone who seemed to hate him.

“Which bed do you want?” Curumo asked as he pushed open the plywood door, only to freeze mid-movement with a small but deep groan. “Never mind!”

Perplexed by this sudden change of stance, Aiwendil poked his head into the room and suppressed a low exclamation of distress of his own.

The point was moot because there was but one huge bed, looming like a pool of quicksand in the middle of the cosy room.

“Ah,” Aiwendil said indecisively because he felt that he needed to say something.

His intense desire to melt into the worn carpet, never to be seen again, remained mercilessly unfulfilled, though.

No matter how often or frantically he blinked, his unfortunate situation—condemned to spend his holiday perched up with someone he’d neither call an enemy, a friend, nor a lover confidently—didn’t change.

“This will absolutely not do,” Curumo grunted, his face ablush with righteous anger.

Aiwendil’s heart sank; he’d never considered the other a rival or even a foe, despite his outright inimical behaviour, and he’d secretly hoped that their inebriated folly would eventually have a positive impact on their strained relationship.

How bitterly disappointed he’d been in that regard. He hoped that it wasn’t too late to change that.

“I’m sorry,” he said automatically as if he’d purposefully booked the room they’d been assigned randomly. “Maybe we can swap with someone else?”

At that, Curumo frowned. “I highly doubt that any of the others would be any more comfortable sharing a bed than us.”

His eyebrow quirked expressively, telling Aiwendil that he’d not forgotten about his fall from grace either.

For a long moment, the only thing in the room was awkward tension and the wheezing of the old air conditioning.

“Maybe we should rejoin the others?” Aiwendil then said dejectedly—as much as he’d hoped that this little get-away would be the perfect opportunity to mend fences with Curumo, he wasn’t the kind of man who willingly, consciously imposed his prolonged presence on someone to whom it was visibly loathsome.

Unfortunately, their streak of bad luck didn’t end there.

When they’d made their way back to the lobby, having been delayed by an uncoordinated, fat woman trying to get all her suitcases out of the lift before the doors could close, their party had already left.

The snooty young man behind the reception desk wordlessly shoved over a glossy flyer, advertising a marine biology museum.

Curumo’s eyes lit up—he’d once dated a half-mad surfer who’d liked to wax poetic about various sea creatures. After the seemingly countless hours he’d listened to Aiwendil talk about local and exotic critters, he felt that it was only fair that he’d for once be the one to bore the other to tears with utterly irrelevant factoids.

“The next bus comes in 5 minutes,” the receptionist informed them before turning to the very same rotund lady from before who was now in tears because her AC unit was not working properly.

“Oh, that sounds fun…If you want to go, I mean,” Aiwendil muttered miserably, picking up random brochures and stuffing them into his very unattractive fanny pack haphazardly.

“Do you think I want to spend the day alone with you?” Curumo hissed. “Let’s go!”

To his surprise, his unwelcome companion’s choices had been much less random than he’d originally thought. As a matter of fact, Aiwendil was able to locate the bus stop and work out a shortcut that might get them to the museum in time to rejoin their group.

Uncomfortable and embarrassed, Curumo launched into a long diatribe about the sexual habits of dolphins—it soon turned out that Aiwendil was a much more gracious listener than his cranky colleague had ever been.

That much could have been predicted, but Curumo found himself nevertheless bemused by the evident swap in roles and powers.

Usually, it was Aiwendil who was chattering away while he tried to keep things running smoothly. He was also astounded by how relaxing it was to, for once, let someone else worry about the applicable minutia and rules while he could simply prattle on and on with gusto.

“No! Really?” Aiwendil exclaimed, proving that he’d been listening carefully, as they got out of the last bus. It had been an unbearably hot and uncomfortable ride, but Curumo almost regretted its inevitable end.

He even grimaced when he saw his bosses and colleagues standing around aimlessly in front of the wide-open glass doors.

“Melkor lost his wallet—again!” Mairon snorted. Their manager wore his white linen suit with the enviable elegance of a black widow squandering her inheritance at the French Riviera, and his designer eyewear flashed in the merciless sun as their chaotic boss crawled on his hands and knees under benches.

“I had it when we left,” Melkor swore and narrowed his eyes at his employees in a silent bid for assistance.

“At once,” Aiwendil exclaimed and dropped to his own knees readily.

Curumo watched him scurry this way and that, and—behind his own sober sunglasses—he shamelessly ventured a few lingering looks at his colleague’s small, firm behind poking out from behind a massive flowerpot.

Finally, when the renegade wallet had been located and retrieved, they all shuffled into the blue penumbra of the museum obediently—it was uncomfortably hot and muggy inside, and people soon split up into smaller groups so as to not overcrowd the displays.

When Aiwendil looked up from an explanatory plaquette about the conservation efforts made by the local government he’d been perusing with earnest interest, he was startled to discover that Curumo was still hovering at his side, evidently patiently waiting for him to finish.

“Would you like to go see the tunnel?” he asked sheepishly. From where he stood, he’d seen his colleagues rush through the hallway that cut right through one of the bigger aquariums, and he’d been irrationally dismayed by their lack of patience and admiration for their unique surroundings.

“The glass is solid, right?” Aiwendil mumbled. “I’m not a superb swimmer.”

“If it should collapse, swimming would be least of your worries,” Curumo assured him in what he only realised had been more of a threat than a kindness when Aiwendil’s eyes widened in sudden alarm. “Nonsense, the glass is perfectly safe. Come!”

Since that night when Curumo’s thin, firm lips had driven him half to distraction, Aiwendil had never received another invitation of any kind, so he was not about to forego this one. He lurched into motion.

Standing in the flickering darkness, he felt his heartbeat quicken and his cheeks warm up as he listened to Curumo explain the different species that were gliding past them with majestic equanimity.

Aiwendil was a creature made for verdant forests and muddy ground, so—between the ever-shifting hues of dark blue and sea green and Curumo’s intense gaze—he felt as if he was floating through a foreign, not entirely soothing world.

“Oh, look at that school!” Curumo suddenly exclaimed softly, his long finger pointing at a silvery cloud of tiny fish.

“They look like stars,” Aiwendil mumbled, awe-struck, and then immediately ducked his head in anticipation of the harsh reprimand for having spoken such a silly, unnecessary observation.

“They rather do, yes,” Curumo mused.

“Is that a ray?” Aiwendil asked breathlessly to distract himself from the surge of unbidden, yet indomitable hope.

“So it is,” Curumo whispered. He was mesmerised by the way the light, reflecting off the innumerable bellies of passing fishes, danced upon Aiwendil’s gently smiling face. Why did he always have to look so enviably happy?

For months, Curumo had more or less consciously tried to dim that fierce light of compelling optimism and pure joy lest it break down all his walls and overcome his cautious reservations.

Standing here felt oddly intimate—he was used to seeing Aiwendil under the bright, flickering lights of the coffee shop, his hair tied back and his best customer service smile plastered across his cute face, but this dreamy, undeniably private smile inevitably awakened something dark and dangerous in the depths of Curumo’s heart and soul.

He leaned forward ever so slightly.

“Batman, I mean Sea Batman, won’t like this,” Melkor hooted from behind a corner and was promptly shushed by Mairon who dragged him away to look at a fearsome octopus instead.

“Sea Batman,” Aiwendil chuckled nervously, his eyes darting to and fro between Curumo’s intense expression and the majestic ray hovering above them like a living parasol.

“Don’t listen to him,” Curumo laughed. “We’re on holiday—he’s not our boss right now.”

“He’s always our boss,” Aiwendil started to protest but his display of unconditional loyalty to his place of work and his superiors was silenced by the brush of blessedly cool lips against his own.

The featherlight touch was silken and smooth, just as Aiwendil imagined the sleek bodies floating around them to feel under his twitching fingers.

The oppressive, damp heat of the tunnel seemed to grow inexorably, but that long-awaited kiss nevertheless felt like a soothing caress of cool water and fresh air against Aiwendil’s burning skin.

As from far away, they heard their colleagues declare that they’d seen enough.

“Let them go,” Curumo murmured. “They won’t miss us. We’ll find our own way.”

The thought of having dinner alone with his most cherished foe made the tall man grin sharply. “You’ve proven that you can steer us safely through the city, haven’t you?”

At one, Aiwendil nodded proudly.

They waited for another 5 minutes, giggling and kissing like schoolboys under the motionless, expressionless gaze of thousands of aquatic spectators before they left, breathing in the clean, cool night air greedily.

“Let’s not switch rooms,” Curumo laughed, took Aiwendil’s arm, and started walking towards the city centre.

Thank you for reading and sorry for the delay!

-> Masterlist

[acasualcrossfade]

It’s On the House

Written for @thefreakandthehair Sping Fanworks Challenge 2023, Prompt: Mud

Stranger Things, Steve/Eddie, Steve and Eddie

Words: 4326

Read this on Ao3 and find me at thunderously_halo over there :)

Summary: Steve works at Ungrounded, Hawkins’s new café in town next to the record store. When a person clad in all black bikes up with a guitar on his back, Steve is intrigued. Through many closing shifts, Steve learns more about the person, Eddie, and eventually helps Eddie after he gets caught in the rain.

--

“Large iced coffee and a chocolate chip loaf, warmed for Megan!” Steve called, holding up the bagged dessert as he slid the freshly made coffee forward. He turned back to the machine to foam milk for the cappuccino. He stepped to the side to let his boss, Keith, place a cup on the pick-up counter.

“Tuesday Special for Hannah!” Keith called.

As much as Steve hated closing shifts, he hated the company-mandated uniform a bit more. The uniform was no more than a tan-colored shirt and jeans, but the shirt was his least favorite. It had the words “Get Ungrounded” written in groovy letters on the front, and had a giant printed coffee bean on the back.

“I’m gunna go on break,” Keith said, scooting past Steve.

Steve sighed, already knowing that was code for I’m leaving, close up on your own . He was used to it by now, and as the last of the evening rush dwindled, Steve felt the familiar peace that came with the closing shift. A few of his evening regulars were already seated at their usual tables; the booths on the side were left empty except for one study group that sometimes came in around finals season.

The quiet of the café was his favorite. As the sun started to set, the streetlights glowed brighter against the dimming sky.

Traffic thinned and bikers were scarce.

Which was why when a biker whizzed past the window, Steve’s head snapped up in surprise. He abandoned all thought of cleaning the next table and watched as the figure on the bike, dressed in all black, gracefully dismounted. It wasn’t until the figure turned to lock their bike that Steve made out the hardback guitar case strapped to their back. The two seemed to move together as one, and Steve was sure if he strapped a guitar on his back, he wouldn’t look like that.

Steve finished wiping down the table before glancing up at the biker again. The figure had removed his helmet and was walking towards the coffeeshop. Their long hair flowed along with them, and Steve suddenly panicked.

Was it cooler to meet him at the counter or greet him at the door?

Why was he suddenly worried about that?

He was saved from having to figure it out as the man headed into the record shop next door.

A rush of relief seeped through Steve, and he went back to cleaning tables.

--

Steve was in the middle of bussing tables when the door opened and a customer walked in. He grabbed the last of the dirty mugs before heading towards the counter.

“One minute,” he called, before setting them all in the sink behind the register. And when Steve looked up, he immediately recognized the man standing at the counter.

It was the biker from earlier.

The biker stood patiently at the counter, taking his time to read the menu and glance at the dessert case. The man looked comfortable in his dark gray shirt and denim jacket, and his skinny black jeans were ripped in the knees. The light breeze from the coffee shop's weak AC blew the man’s flyaway curls around his face and made his features look soft and welcoming. The man carried his guitar case, and had set it down to lean against the counter.  

His brown eyes studied the sweets and he rocked back and forth slowly as he contemplated, then turned his interest to the snacks along the side of the counter.

“What can I get for you?” Steve asked politely, doing his best to keep his voice from cracking. It always happened when he was nervous. The man had this gracefulness to him, and Steve automatically felt pulled in by it. His apron suddenly felt crooked and he fought the urge to straighten it.

The man’s gaze traveled from the snacks to the small card of specials next to the register. His brow furrowed as a soft smile played on his quirked lips. “What’s the Tuesday Special?”

“It’s a java chip Frappuccino with strawberry and peppermint drizzle,” Steve explained. “And you can get it with or without whipped cream. It’s pretty popular.”

The man nodded approvingly and spent a moment debating before finally shaking his head. “Another day. But can I grab a chamomile tea instead? Large?”  

Steve typed in the order and then looked up again. “And what’s the name for the order?”

The man shifted to the other leg. “Oh, Eddie is good. E-D-D-I-E, though,” he said, standing on his tip-toes to peek over as Steve wrote on the cup. “Not E-D-D-Y.”

“Gotcha.” Steve wrote it on the cup. Eddie. The name fit him.

“And can you do me a favor?” Eddie asked, his voice going quieter. “Or, well, can I make an order in advance?”

Steve glanced around at the quiet coffee shop before nodding. The evening rush had died down, leaving the coffee shop in a quiet ambience. The evening regulars sipped their coffees and there were a few study groups gathered at some of the tables.

“Yeah, sure. I can also bring it to your table since it’s not too busy,” Steve mentioned.

“That’d be great.  I’m waiting for someone and I want to order for them.” Eddie thought for a moment. “It’ll be a medium hot chocolate with whipped cream with a bit of cinnamon sprinkled over it? And can you bring it in like, 20 minutes or so?”

Steve added a note about the hot chocolate before putting in the order. “So it’s one hot chocolate with whipped cream and a bit of cinnamon,” Steve repeated as Eddie nodded along. “Okay Eddie, I’ll have that ready for you in a bit.” Steve took a handful of crumpled bills from Eddie and handed him his change.  

When Steve handed him his tea, Eddie smiled once more before heading back towards the windows, taking a seat at one of the booths in the far corner.

A few more people trickled in, and Steve watched as a young kid headed to Eddie’s booth. In one hand, the kid held his windbreaker and in the other, a briefcase.

Steve hid his smile as he watched Eddie jump up to greet the kid, pulling him in for a tight hug. He placed a hand on the kid’s shoulder as he spoke to him and Steve watched the young boy nod a few times before hugging Eddie again.

They must know each other pretty well.

It wasn’t until the boy sat down and opened the briefcase that Steve realized it was a case of colored pencils.

The boy fished a few figurines from his jacket pocket and Steve watched as the two started exchanging pencils and erasers. Steve was sidetracked from his watch as a few more students came in for a light night caffeine fix. By the time he glanced back at Eddie and the boy, they were both sketching quietly.

Moving easily through his evening duties, Steve carefully rinsed the dirty mugs and closed up the sticky syrups. He snuck glances at Eddie’s booth more than he should, and each time he saw them, both were in deep concentration.

They pair worked in quiet tandem; the boy shaded something furiously as Eddie sketched quietly. They’d each turn the figurine every now and again to capture it in different stances. And Steve found that Eddie looked most comfortable with one leg hugging his chest, and his other stretched in front of him. There was a quiet, unspoken bond between the two; more than once, Steve caught sight of the boy holding up his drawing and Eddie giving him a high-five and a wide smile.

Work was busy enough to keep Steve at the counter, even though he burned with curiosity to see what they were drawing. Between drawings, they sipped their drinks and at one point, both of them dissolved into giggles at the kid’s whipped cream mustache.

Steve caught the boy’s name as they laughed. Will.

Steve’s finished stacking the clean mugs as laughs burst from the back table. Eddie and Will are giggling over one of Will’s drawings, both talking about something called a Thessalhydra.

Steve made a mental note to look up what a Thessalhydra was.

--

Steve just finished collecting the dirty mugs from the Tuesday evening rush when he caught Eddie walking through the door. Instinctively, he straightened his apron and headed to the counter.

“Hi, what can I get you?” Steve was glad his voice stayed even.

“I’m thinking I want something sweet. Is there anything you’d recommend…” Eddie paused and leaned closer over the counter to peer at the nametag clipped to Steve’s apron. “Anything you’d recommend, Steve?”  Eddie rocked back and forth as he studied the dessert case.

Steve’s ears warmed at the way Eddie said his name. Somehow, Eddie made it sound more melodious than five letters.

“Well,” Steve started. “That chocolate chip loaf is pretty popular, and we’ve got some good donuts, too.” Steve searched the bottom of the case, but shook his head. “Our iced raspberry lemon loaf is good, too, but it looks like we’re sold out.”

Eddie tapped his chin before pointing to the loaf at the top. “I’ll give the chocolate chip loaf a try,” he requested. “And also small mocha.”

Steve smiled. “Good choice.” He took Eddie’s crumpled bills and brought out the man’s order.

“Do you want your loaf warmed?”

Eddie’s face opened into surprise and playfully grasped his chest, pretending to swoon. “I think you just became my hero,” he sighed dramatically before smiling. “I am truly both thankful and amazed such a thing exists.”

Steve waited for Eddie to add an order of hot chocolate like last week, but instead, Eddie handed over a crumpled bill.

“I’ll have that right out for you, Eddie,” Steve said with a nod, and Eddie headed back to his usual table. Instead of colored pencils, Eddie set a worn notebook and pen on the table. Steve could tell that from the way the cover bent upwards, it had been folded and bent backwards multiple times. Eddie settled into his usual perch and started writing.

When Steve brought his mocha and warmed chocolate loaf, Eddie smiled at him with the pen cap wedged between his teeth and Steve felt something warm inside him at the sight.

Steve wondered what he was writing. Could it be songs? Or poetry? He couldn’t dwell on it for long as another few late night students sauntered in. Steve stole a last glance at Eddie, and found he was crossing something out on the page. Steve caught Eddie’s slight frown before turning back to his own evening duties.

Steve glanced up at Eddie once more and found that he’d started gathering his things. As a pair of headlights swung into the parking lot outside, Eddie rushed as he shoved the notebook under his arm and grabbed his guitar. He was almost to the door when he turned to Steve at the counter. “Thanks again for the dessert rec,” Eddie called, and lifted one hand to wave to Steve.

Steve’s ears went warm as he nodded and smiled, raising one hand to wave back.

--

Over the next few weeks, Steve picked up on Eddie’s schedule. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, he biked in to teach guitar lessons (Steve saw him chatting with the kid and their parents outside one Tuesday). And Steve learned that Eddie had a specific drink depending on what he was doing there; art with Will meant a large chamomile tea and anything that dealt with the black notebook meant anything caffeinated paired with something sweet. Steve discovered that Eddie loved anything sweet, and it only took two weeks for him to nail down a favorite pastry. His usual was now the warmed chocolate chip loaf.

Steve found that he enjoyed picking up these small details about Eddie. Each one felt like collecting a piece of something special. And catching him writing, or better yet, pondering what he could be writing. The entire sight pushed Steve’s heart into overdrive.

Steve spent any free time of his shifts sneaking glances at Eddie as he sketched or wrote.

Was it creepy?  

Steve was no stranger to having evening regulars; he knew that Mr. Westler was recently divorced and Candice and her young son Grant were going to the movies on Friday.

Eddie as a coffee shop regular felt different. No other regular made Steve excited to come in for his closing shifts. And he found that he even hated the uniform a little less.

After a month of observations and a goodbye wave at each shift, Steve begrudgingly accepted that seeing Eddie and serving Eddie was something he looked forward to.

--

It rained hard the next Tuesday shift and Steve looked outside as thunder rolled across the sky. The darkened sky made the overhead lights in the coffee shop glow a warmer yellow.  The water on the window caught the headlights and lighted storefronts from outside, making the windows look like a watercolor painting.

Steve appreciated rainy days. The evening rush wasn’t as busy since people wanted to stay out of the rain, but, there was always a possibility of a rush for people to escape the rain. There’d been a slight rush in the afternoon, and Steve realized as time went on that Eddie most likely had stayed home. A bike whizzed past as Steve handed out a small Americano to a student. He watched curiously as the back wheel flicked up water, causing it to patter against the window. Steve’s brow furrowed.

Biking? In the rain?  

The figure hurried in and it’s clear that they weren’t just wet from the rain. They’re soaked .

Water ran off the sides of the jacket sleeves and some of the patrons stared offensively at the dripping sight. It’s not until the man swiped back a handful of plastered curls when Steve blinked in shock.

“Eddie?” Steve’s heart stuttered, trying not to focus on how wide and innocent Eddie’s eyes looked as he slogged towards the counter. Questions bounced around Steve’s mind, but he cleared his throat and grabbed a few clean rags from under the counter.

It’s the closest thing to something dry that Steve can think of.

“They’re clean,” Steve explained. “And we’ve got some more in the back.”

Eddie immediately pressed the towel to his face and shrugged out of his guitar to lean it against the counter. The water droplets pearled against the hard casing of his guitar case and dark flecks decorated Eddie’s shirt and jacket.

“What….What happened?” Steve asked slowly. He suddenly wished the coffeeshop had bigger towels.

“Caught in the downpour,” Eddie replied quickly as he toweled off his neck and chin. “I never saw it coming,” he sputtered sadly. Eddie shook slightly and Steve realized the flecks on Eddie’s shirt weren’t the design, but were flecks of mud and sediment. Water is caught in his hair like crystals, and they shine down his curls and pearl at his ends. Some of the heavier drops  splash to the floor.

“My uncle would have driven, but he’s already at work.” His face disappeared into the towel again before moved on to his jacket sleeves. “And I didn’t want to cancel the lesson.” He shivered, swiping the towel down the front of his shirt. His hair hung in soaked strands. “But I did not plan to be soaking wet like this. Fuck, it’s cold.”

It isn’t until Eddie starts patting the back of his jacket when he abruptly stopped. He twisted to look at the back, and then turned again, trying to see it better.

Steve suddenly envisioned a kitten chasing its tail.

Eddie cursed quietly. “The mud got sprayed up my jacket,” he moaned. He held up the handful of soggy towels. “Can I get these dirty? Is that okay?” He rotated around  again, trying to get a better look at his back. “Actually, do you mind telling me how bad this is?”

Steve tried to keep his composure, but he was sure that his ears were fire-engine red. “I, uh, it’s not…” Steve thought of skirting around the question, but then he saw that Eddie’s back was splattered with mud. He winced out of sympathy. “It’s pretty dirty,” he finally settled.  

Eddie groaned and studied his jacket. “Do you mind getting some more towels? I think I’ll need a few more.”

There aren’t any more towels under the counter, but Steve grabbed the few stacked next to the sink. “Here, try these.”

Eddie took them and dabbed at his soaked sleeves. “Guess this is coming off, too,” he sighed. The wet denim fought him and he yanked it to free his arm. When he turned to look at the back of his shirt, Steve caught a glimpse of Eddie’s quarter sleeve tattoo. An outline of a wing peeking under his left sleeve.

The weak breeze of the AC did nothing to help Eddie as he shivered in his black short sleeve shirt, and Steve suddenly wished he could wrap him in something warm and dry.

Steve paused, checking the coffee shop. There were only a few people that sat around, and all of them looked served. Steve lowered his voice. “We actually have extra uniforms in the back,” he offered. “It’s not the most stylish…” He glanced down at his own tan monstrosity. “But they’re dry.”

“Are you sure it’s okay? I-I,” Eddie started before shivering. “I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

“Keith is gone for the day,” Steve explained. “Besides, he can’t do much more than tell me off a bit.” He shrugged. “We gotta get you outta those wet clothes, come on.” He lifted the counter and it opened like a drawbridge and Eddie stepped carefully behind the counter.

“It’s kinda…fun to be back here,” Eddie mused as he took in the view from the café. “I feel like the king of the café.” He twisted to look at Steve as cleared away the few carts in front of the storage door. “Is this how you feel every day?”

Steve couldn’t help but smile at the thought of Eddie, soaking wet but serving coffee to other evening regulars. “Not exactly, but now that you mention it, Café King does have a nice ring to it.”

Eddie’s squeaky converse followed Steve’s sneakers into the storage room. Steve had only been back there a handful of times, but he didn’t remember it being such close quarters. Eddie felt attached to his back, but Steve found his presence surprisingly warm, despite the man’s shivers. He searched the shelves, certain there were extra shirts somewhere.

“Oo, it’s a little creepy back here,” Eddie whispered. “Looks almost haunted. Have you seen ghosts back here or like, felt cold spots?” He peered at Steve through one of the shelves. “Or have you seen anything out of the ordinary? Something you can’t explain?” Another smirk played at Eddie’s lips.

Steve gave him an intrigued look. “There was that one time I tripped over a sack of beans that were back here.”

“A bag of beans?” Eddi repeated.

“Yep, it was on a cart but I didn’t see either.” Steve nodded towards the wall. “So I redid some of the lighting.”

Eddie’s brow furrowed. “You...what?”

“Here, flip that switch on the wall?”

Eddie kept his brow furrowed curiously as he slowly flipped the switch by the doorframe. Instead of the expected harsh lighting of a storage room, the lighting of the storage room was done up in yellow Christmas lights that hung, strung from the ceiling.

“Okay, wait,” Eddie paused, looking around. “This is the coolest storage closet I’ve ever seen!” His hair flicked out cold droplets of water as he turned in a slow circle to take it all in.

“Yeah, I sometimes get migraines so this room is a bit darker than the coffee shop ones,” Steve explained. His cheeks heated in muted humiliation; why was he talking about this?  

“It feels so cozy in here,” Eddie replied. “And if anything, you could keep the lights out if you’re sensitive to low lights, too.”

Steve nodded. “Exactly.” He turned to Eddie to ask how he knew about migraines, and immediately was reminded the man was soaking wet. “You must be freezing.” Steve went back to searching the shelves.

“Will gets them. Migraines,” Eddie explained. He hugged himself as Steve searched the next shelf. “Kid’s a trooper, though. He’s better at catching them early.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “Sucks that they can start so young, too.” He moved to the next shelf. “Found ‘em!” Steve called, holding up a tan shirt that smelled faintly of stale coffee. “And looks like they left behind some chef’s pants.” Steve held up the black and white checkered pants, holding  back a laugh. “Is small okay for the shirt?”

“This’ll do,” Eddie responded gratefully as he took the shirt. “Thank you so much, Steve. I also did not expect to be doing any of this.”

Steve felt another strong urge to wrap Eddie up and watch him sip warm chocolate. He pushed away the thought. “You can change back here, and if you want, there’s some hangers and such back here if you want to hang up your clothes.”

Eddie looked down at the clothes he held. “That’s so great, thank you. And I can get my clothes back when I return them.”

Steve nodded. “Sounds like an even trade.”

Steve nodded once more before turning out of the room to let the man change. He couldn't help himself as he took one more glance at Eddie, dripping wet under the soft lights.

Eddie emerged from the storage room looking considerably drier. There was more color in his cheeks and he wasn’t shivering.

“You look better,” Steve smiled.

Eddie’s lean frame swam in the shirt, but the tan brought out the chocolate in Eddie’s eyes. Even with the tan shirt paired with the checkered chef’s pants, Eddie looked… cool . His curls were more damp than wet, and some of his usual flyaways did their usual dance in the light breeze of the AC.

Steve blinked. Could this man pull off anything? Or did this mean he liked a man in uniform?

“What, soaking wet isn’t my best look?,” Eddie playfully replied before going serious. “But really, I cannot thank you enough. You’re truly saving my life.” He ducked under the counter and reached for his guitar.

Steve shook his head. “Well, we don’t just let anyone wear the tan,” he laughed.

“It’s an honor, truly,” Eddie laughed. He gave Steve another one of his famous bows. “And are you closing on Thursday?”

“Yeah. “ His ears heated at the thought of Eddie knowing his schedule.  

“Okay, cool, I can bring these back then.”

Steve nodded. “See you then.” Suddenly, he grabbed one of the drink trays. “Here, use this for the way over. It could be a good makeshift umbrella.”

Eddie gave him another grateful look. “You’re a genius, Steve,” he rushed. “Truly.” He grabbed his guitar and held up the drink tray in a wave. “See ya later!”

Steve lifted his own hand up to wave back. “See you!”

It isn't until Steve closed up that he remembered Eddie's clothes in the storage room. He quickly headed back there, and sure enough, the man's jeans and usual denim jacket were laid out on the shelves. Without another thought, Steve grabbed them to take them home to wash.

--

Thursday’s rush is busy enough for Steve to miss Eddie’s graceful dismount, but Steve caught sight of his parked bike as he cleaned up after the evening rush.

Eddie arrived at the café later  with his guitar on his back. “Hey Steve,” he bounced, holding up a paper bag. He took a sneaky look around before placing the bag to the counter. “I’ve got the goods.”

Steve didn’t stand a chance against the smile that broke out on his face. “What are you, a drug dealer?” he joked. He took the bag. “Thanks, though. And besides, Keith left at like, seven thirty. As usual.” He pulled out a bag of Eddie's folded clothes, the ones he took home to wash and dry.

"Steve, you washed these? And folded them?" Eddie gave him a wide-eyed look as he stared into the bag. "You really didn't have to do that."

Steve rubbed his neck nervously. "It's nothing," he replied shyly. "Just a little mud."

Eddie took out his denim jacket and unfolded it before slipping it on. Nice and clean, it seemed to be glad to be back on his shoulders. "Well, thanks again, Steve. I feel like I'd be an Eddie-ice pop without you."

“Speaking of, is today a chamomile tea day or a mocha day?”

Eddie beamed. “I’ll take the usual small mocha and a chocolate chip loaf.”

“Warmed,” Steve added with a smile. His heart squeezed as Eddie beamed at him. He nodded towards Eddie’s notebook that he held under his arm. “So, do you write poetry?”

Eddie gave Steve a shy smile. “No, actually. Songs, they’re songs, well, half-songs. So kind of like poetry.” He patted his pocket before reaching in and producing a small folded piece of paper. “Actually, I’ve got a show coming up next week. It's a pretty small show, but it’ll melt your pretty little face off.”

Steve took the flier and looked it over. “Yeah, I’d-I’d love to come. Thank you.”

Eddie smiled. “And if you need, café-mandated uniforms are okay to wear.”

‘Hey, I thought you were done hating on the tan,” Steve laughed.

Eddie gave him a pointed look. “I’m not hating on it, I’m just saying their welcome at my show.”

And later that night when Eddie wrote, all leg-bouncing and pen-biting, Steve carefully set a second mocha in front of him.

“On the house,” he said.

Steve knew he’d spend the rest of his night remembering Eddie’s million-watt smile.

[hp-coffeehouse]

SEPTEMBER 2023 COFFEEHOUSE PROMPT  Welcome to the @hp-coffeehouse monthly prompt post! @hp-coffeehouse on LJ / DW (Post your works on our AO3 COLLECTION) Tag us, and we’ll reblog your work!

PROMPT 76

DESCRIPTION: Top view of white cup of masala chai or coffee with star anise / herbs spices inspired / cinnamon sticks.

Interpret that how you wish for coffee or tea. RULES ON LJ / DW are here.

[thatguyatthetypewriter]

Random Prompt n°46

"What can I get you? Tea, coffee, mil-"

"Anything that may help with feeling like your skin has been taxidermied."

"Cappuccino it is,"

[schmem14]

Coffeeshop

@sapphicmicrofics​​​​​​

Pairing: Pansy Parkinson/Luna Lovegood Rating: T WC: 50

*****

Pansy slams the cup down, sloshing a bit over the side, just because she can.  The lids snaps on, loud and brash.  She shoves it over the counter.  “Here,” she grumbles. “On the house.” Luna’s answering smile feels like a sunburn.  “Thank you… Pansy.” It’s a beautiful day for coffee. 

[tdbkauz]

What do you think would be Todoroki and Bakugou’s favourite order in a coffeeshop?

[simp-for-long-hair]

please click for better quality

Some fanfic au vinyls 💙 which ones would you play on repeat?

@swayamev

[ew-selfish-art]

My brain is unwilling to let go of Twin AU prompts. Sorry for the long post lmao.

Jazz and Jason are getting pretty serious in their relationship, and honestly, they’ve both been hesitant to introduce their family members to one another despite constantly talking about them. They’ve been dating since she started her doctoral studies at Gotham U and she’s about to defend her dissertation, so it really is about time. He saved her in her first week as the Red Hood and he immediately felt at home with her (something, something liminal), she runs into him the next day at a coffee shop and thanks him for taking the time to help her. 

Identities are obviously blown. Jason knows that her brother works in ‘politics’ and her younger sister is a travel blogger, and that the three of them don’t talk to her mad scientist parents anymore. Jazz knows that he came back from the dead, his adoptive family had a slew of issues in addition to their hero-complexes and that he would be prepared to kill for any one of his siblings. Their communication skills are top notch. 

But then came the issue of actually meeting the family. Like Jazz knows all of the drama between the siblings but could not pick them out of a line up, or more importantly, know who to talk to if an emergency situation came up. Jason agrees, that yeah, it would probably be for the best if he could at least identify her little brother and sister if they had to like, meet at hospital or something. 

So that was the plan. Invite just siblings over to their shared apartment, no parents and no fuss. (She even called Danny ahead of time to tell him not to portal straight into the apartment, he needed to walk in the door like a normal person. They could share Ghost King secrets later.) 

Tim arrives first, he’d been working a case nearby and Jazz & Jason live pretty close to a nice coffeeshop, so he stopped along the way. He’d done some creeping to figure out that she drinks Chai so he brought one for her. Creepy and yet, endearing. 

Ellie comes in second from the window, launching into a story about how annoying it was to find the place with all the gloom, didn’t this city have any respect for the dead? Tim doesn’t get it but Jason is laughing along so Tim files it away for later. 

Dick comes in with a shit ton of Pizza he panic ordered, a fruit bouquet and two bottles of wine from Bruce’s cellar. Duke came along with him, a large tupperware of Alfred’s cookies. 

Then Steph, Babs and Cass show up, immediately treating Jazz like family while also being hella suspicious about the whole thing. She notices them looking at her hands and Jazz explains that no, they weren’t doing this because Jason proposed. Steph and Cass are annoyed at Jason but tell Jazz she could do better if she wanted. Babs is happy they aren’t rushing into anything (she’s the only one besides Tim that knows how long they’ve been dating- this is just to throw out a red herring for the others)

Everyone is getting along and having a great time, Ellie being a natural entertainer along side Dick, everyone trying to tell embarrassing stories about Jason. Loud noises are coming from the hallway when they realize that neither Damian nor Danny had arrived. 

Rushing out the door, the boys are alternating putting each other into choke holds and arguing about not being clones. Danny keeps phasing out of Damian’s grip and Damian keeps pulling out more knives. The hallway looks like it had been blown up and the two are continuing to yell at one another about going to a family dinner. Jason and Jazz just stare at them from the doorway, and wouldn’t you know it, they look like fucking twins. 

Jazz grabs Danny, Jason grabs Damian, and everyone is fucking confused. Both sides of the family can confirm growing up with the twins, that neither are a clone. Ellie helpfully supplies that she’s the clone and that opens a whole other bag of chaos. 

Eventually they get everyone to sit down for dinner and the night gets weirder from there. 

[takes1]

Some fluff w Koushi maybe?🫶

koushi realizing barista!reader is pretty cute

thanks for the request! this was a cute and refreshing prompt for me <3 much love!!

warnings. none info. sfw / fluff / college!au / coffeeshop!au / simple but cute / suga wears cardigans / timeskip!suga / like imagine english teacher suga pulling a stretchy cardigan over himself ugh so cute / 630 words links. haikyuu collection. masterlist. requests open. my ao3

"Good morning!" A gentle voice blessed your ears.

You smiled without looking up from the register.

Mr. Cardigan's ritual began. Glance over the menu, top-right to the espresso drinks, consider getting a decaf-- of course he won't go with the decaf, it was 7:40 and he was already tapping his foot to get to his 8 a.m class. Then he would decide on his tried and true as if it were a brand new idea:

"Double espresso, steamed milk, sweetened with honey."

He was wearing a face of mild shock, a touch of embarrassment, when you looked up from the order you already input.

"Oh, shit--," You laughed, warm at your slip-up, "I'm so sorry."

"Nono, it's- it's fine," He sported a similar color.

After a moment's hesitation, he chuckled and gave you his card.

Your Monday, Wednesday, Friday shift lined up with everyone who had a MWF 8 a.m (+9, 9:30, 10:00, and 10:30, regrettably). He was one of the few you cared to remember since he was such a cutie and he usually tipped you well.

"It's been a long morning, I get it," He graced you with a smooth forgiveness.

You sighed, relieved, and agreed wholeheartedly.

Spring semester was right at the close. Most were coming in to the Business building's little ground-level cafe early or late to cram for finals. He stayed consistent throughout the past few months, though, with his 7:40 sharp arrival.

7:44 if there was a line, but that was Mondays. Fridays weren't as busy because so many people skipped. But reliable Mr. Cardigan never missed a class.

"Almost done, though," You handed him his card back and spun the tip screen around for him, expecting nothing this time.

"Thank god," He tapped for No Receipt and closed his wallet.

He stood at the counter with his hands crossed in front of him to wait for his drink.

He never noticed how pretty your hands were before today. He looked down at his own kinda stumpy fingers. Then he watched -careful not to come across as creepy- at how gingerly you held the mug to the steam wand while screwing the filter in place.

The urge to talk to you nudged at the back of his throat, but he fell silent when you flipped the switch on.

The espresso machine was always a little too loud to talk over.

It was a graceful background noise to those who studied in this lobby, and a good backdrop to stay quiet to.

This time, he didn't feel as though your usual exchange was natural anymore. He wanted to talk, but didn't know quite how. The usual 4-minute wait felt like ages, but today he wasn't keen on leaving until he spoke to you again.

Your eyes flitted over his when you turned towards the lobby side for the honey.

His broad shoulders tensed and he turned his head to take false interest in some of the artwork on the walls. He didn't realize he was staring so hard.

He wondered how long you had been paying attention to him. If was just habit, or maybe a fondness had been growing and he was always too tired to notice anything other than how well you made his drink.

Now it was impossible not to overthink your friendly customer-service smile, or the smiley face you always put on the side of his cup.

Say something!

He repeated it so many times that his mind had been made unintentionally blank when you held the cup up for him to take over the counter.

"Good luck with finals," You said softly.

When he reached for his latte, your fingertips brushed for the tiniest moment. An intense heat crept up the back of his neck.

A shaky, "You, too," was all he could manage.

masterlist.

requests open.

[leafyeyes417]

I decided to create a masterpost or two with all the reblogs that I like in hopes that when someone sends out the “help me find that post” I can find it faster. It will be added to slowly because I do not have the patience to do it all at once. Also in no particular order of preference.

Keep in mind none of these posts are my works and I do not claim them as such.

If you see *** they are really good prompts with lots of reblogs.

Will be edited later, last updated: 1-28-25

Masterlists

Multi-story masterlists

dcxdpdrabbles

Hdgnj

Tu-turu-turah

Somnoir

Chaoticwriting

Specific Story lists

Jason is Catnip to Danny

Hyena Danny

Finally Getting Help

Wrong Robin

Badger Day

Man has needs

Almanac

Take out for Dummies

Danny is just some guy

Changling AU (part 5, other part links at bottom of post)

Fast Car Driver Danny

Haunted Car

Harmless Series

Don’t eat anything

Hero Tweets

Just a Bite

Single posts

Ellie-centric

Ellie realizes how dangerous Danny’s home is

Danny’s Rescues from the Infinite Realms

Green Lanturn & crew stuck in IR

Dead on Main

Jason courting Danny with a casserole

Overprotective Fenton parents shovel talk

Danny courts Jason by giving him wine cups made from the Joker’s kneecaps

Jason becomes a Ghost Summoner after giving Danny food***

Dream Lover***

Soulmate summoning ring gone wrong

Dead Tired

Coffeeshop accident

Dead Serious

Dead Silent

Danny kills the joker with his thighs

Danny on the run from the GIW

Superman startles Danny and gets a concussion***

Danny In Gotham

Sleepwalker Danny who escapes all traps

Unknowing Fae Danny works at coffee shop

Danny pretends to be a Vampire***

Feral McGee

Danny only gets a Vacation from work in Gotham

Danny seems like an Oracle of Delphi***

The GAV affected by Fear Toxin

Tucker streams while Danny does what Danny does in the background***

Danny is kidnapped(?) by Batman***

Danny gets hired for a money laundering front***

Portal is built in Gotham, not Amity

Naga Danny

Villain Danny

Danny’s obsession is twisted, forcing him to be a villain

Danny teaches heroes their mistakes by being the villain***

Adopted Danny (as in not Bio Fenton)

Danny is Hal Jordan’s son

Harley asks Batman to take away her son

Harvey Dent is Danny’s bio parent

Danny adopted by Bruce Wayne

Danny distribution system

Danny makes a sales pitch to join the Batfam

Reincarnated Danny

They wake up as Talons

Reincarnation

Clockwork reincarnated as Alfred

Misunderstanding’s that end in chaos

High Danny mistakes Batman for Jack

Mis-text-derstanding

Summoning Danny

Number is not in service

Danny: Please get that stalker (Ra’s) away from me

Demon Twin/Brothers

Damian is normal by Amity standards

Maybe(?) his lost twin

Nyssa steals Danny

Danny undercover in Amity

Jazz decided she wanted a brother

Tim Twins/Brothers

Danny and Tim are half-siblings

Danny sleep teleports to another dimension

Jason and Danny are brothers

Jason is a Baby ghost, adopts babier ghost Danny***

Ghost King Danny

Danny needs to take care of the Lazarus pits

Danny finds out there is a Ghost LOA

Miscellaneous

Danny possesses the president

Danny takes Jason’s online cooking class

Danny forgot what is regular human

Jack was a hitman named Phantom

Ghost Calls

Danny & Jason have the same scars

Superman was supposed to wait for the JLD

Water Core Tim

Fenton Driving curse still applies

Danny asks Wonder Woman to make him a grave on Themyscria***

Kryptonite is actually trapped souls

Danny and self-fulfilling prophecy

Danny pretends to be a demigod son of Hades

Danny gifts Red Robin a jar with Ra’s eyes

Vlad Cloning Danny was actually a much worse offense, breaks oldest ghost law

Amity got put back in the wrong place after the Pariah Dark fight.

Jason involuntarily taken to the ghost hospital

Phantom Letters

Danny learns Astral magic

Miscellaneous Angst

GIW succeeds in shooting the portal

DPxMarvel

Loki falls through to the IR and is adopted by Danny

Pure DP (not crossover)

Danny was Eldritch the whole time

Danny gets sprayed with a chemical where he hallucinates the person he hates

Demon!AU (with Art)