Danny Phantom Christmas Novels & Stories

It was Christmas Eve, and I knew I should be spending time with my family, but I couldn't, not when everything I'd worked hard for was falling apart at its seams and I had a chance to set it right. I turned around at the sound of a door opening down the hallway, and Damon walked into the living room a minute later. His eyes seemed bloodshot, almost like he hadn't slept a wink, probably too paranoid that Maya was going to try and escape. I don't blame him, though. “You look like shit,” I muttered, and he sniggered, “Thanks, so do you,” he murmured in response, slipping into the kitchen probably to get himself a cup of coffee.

She even made me wear long heels. It was dark inside. The flickering Christmas lights only did little to illuminate the space. It was cold too. Too cold, but nobody seemed to care. My eyes fell on the giant Christmas tree by the door. For the first time in my life, the sight of a Christmas tree tugged at my guilt. I was still staring at its bright colored red and green ribbons when someone suddenly grabbed it, yanking it off its stand. Then two n***d sweaty bodies came crashing against the glass door.

Dingo/Davin POV I had just got done meeting with Brad and Marcus, buying Danny just a bit more time when I heard Nicks rolling laugh come from her room. I hurried my step and walked in. “What did I miss?” I asked looking around. “Your naughty nip of a girl called me Santa and it’s not even December yet.” Nick said pretending to be wounded. He looked at me, then at her. “Well then, I’m off to the North Pole.” He gruffed as he let himself out. Nick was a good friend, always there when I needed him.

Only on that occasion, he’d been running late for a meeting with the first assistant secretary of his division. Thirst hit him like one of those wayward punches, sudden and crushing, and he wished he and Danny were back at their rental by the beach, sipping tea, scanning the horizon for whales. Something herbal in the mugs, something soothing. Jasmine, maybe. That was how they liked to end their nights when they were here on the coast, away from family and work and the year that was. That was Christmas to them. Batman hit the ground. Arms flailed. “Leave him,” screamed the woman on the phone as she ran in confused circles. “He’s only trying to help. GET OFF HIM!”

Or that my initial suspicion about him as my phantom was indeed correct. “I’m going to meet Damon tonight,” I said, and if my phantom will not show up while I am with Damon, then it could lend credence to my theory. Nancy nodded and then stood up. “Alright. Good luck with that and please be safe. I just came here to check on you, and I’m glad I did.” “Thank you.” With that, she left my office, but not without blowing me a kiss and wink before she closes the door. ****

The Christmas Eve I decided to move to Chicago for Nico Ricci, my father cut off all my credit cards. "He's just a street thug! Betray the family for him, and you'll never take over the business!" I left anyway. Didn't look back. In six years, Nico climbed from the bottom of the mob to a Capo. He built a home for us with those hands—hands that had held guns and spilled blood. Christmas Eve. I stared at the buttercream cake I'd made, waiting for Nico to find the engagement ring I'd hidden inside. Then my phone rang. His guy was stammering—Nico got into a massive bar fight, head covered in blood, might need a hospital. I rushed over through the freezing snow. But at the end of the hospital hal

"That Dana! I saw her! She's a werewolf. I know those red eyes. I saw them before!" "If that's true, they're from Phantom, my dear," he uttered, his voice filled with rage. "They covered their presence among humans. They used the authority that's been hunting them for the disappearance of the people in this town. They used their desperation, then framing me up into something I didn't do. All that so that they could take me in surprise——a clever tactic." I was about to speak when we heard footsteps coming our way. After a short moment, the sound of door creaking placed fear into my whole being. But once a familiar face leaned into the light underneath the darkness, a powerful wrath skulked in

Liam asked, batting Molly’s hand away from his hat. Molly thought back to herself asking Mr. Kerstman, in jest, for a romantic Christmas wish. It was a memory that now caused an undeniable twinge in her heart. “No. I don’t think so.” “Oh.” Liam nodded. “Well, don’t be sad, Ms. Carmichael! Christmas isn’t even over yet. Maybe Santa’s still working on it?”

By the time Yves Golding got home, it was already midnight. I was lying in bed, staring at a photo of him and Melissa Lane. His abs showed faintly beneath his red Santa suit as she leaned against them, eyes shyly closed. Their colleagues had left comments below the post, saying that they were a perfect match and that Yves was quite bold. Melissa commented, "You guys, stop making things up. Mr. Golding was just being kind by keeping a lonely soul like me company for Christmas!"

I NEED to know who he is, and something tells me I won’t discover much if I approach him as Phantom Reaper. I don’t really even know who I actually am, to be honest. I never indulged in friendships or relationships with others. It’s just always been survival. The only person I had any kind of positive relationship was my mother. I don’t know my father but because of my hair color, I’m fairly certain my father was Christian Bartoa. I know he frequented the slave cells whenever he was bored, and the urge arises so it doesn’t surprise me, but I don’t intend to ever claim him nor carry his surname. The thought of actually SPEAKING to Damien makes me feel a weird sense of anxiety. I’m unsure if i