#Casper Needs to Shut the Fuck up and Then Sleep

[thegreatestjournalistofalltime]

I clicked on my inbox instead of my messages and I found some asks in there that I apparently didn’t answer FROM BACK IN 2015!!! Do you think I should answer them now? Like, not tonight, but this weekend? I think I should do it.

[jolapeno]

More Helen x Ghost pleaseeeeee

sometimes, I am merciful

Simon Ghost Riley x F!Reader

Word count: 1k

AN: mentions of a wound and dressing it. fluff-ish (probably more than I’d like but it’s been a day and a half and I needed this too). Helen isn’t readers name, read Helen.Simon for more context. take pity on me, I wrote this on my phone (: but hope it’s okay, anon.

+++++++++++

“Helen,” he hisses through gritted teeth.

He clenched his other fist, the bones on the glove cracking under pressure. He’s trying not to stare at you—fearful you’d turn him into fucking stone.

The look on your face is still etched into his eyelids. Eyes flicking from him to his clearly bleeding hand, a mixture of relief and disappointment he’s come back with another scar you’ll obsessively try and heal.

Your grip on his hand tightens, wrenching it closer. “Keep still, Casper.”

He doesn’t hate it. The grip you have on him. Both literally and figuratively. Even if he doesn’t fully understand the ifs, buts and how’s of it all.

But he doesn’t fucking hate your new pet name. The one you’ve clearly thought about over the thirty-six hours he’s been gone.

He’s had it for all of fifteen minutes and already cannot stand it. But he refuses to ask for Boo.

Instead, he puts up with it. Letting you relish in inflicting your own choice of torture.

Because if you’re calling him a friendly ghost, it means you’re still calling him. Still talking.

He’s learnt how painful and torturous your silence is. A punishment he’s not sure he could handle on such limited sleep.

Sighing, he blinks. Purposefully blanking his face, letting his eyes soften and settle.

Then he wills your eyes to meet his.

If you were anyone else, he’d command it. But that doesn’t work on you. Not unless he says it softly, not unless shards of him are breaking off and you take pity on him.

Look at me. Please look at me.

You don’t.

The scent of antiseptic, vanilla and blackberries meets his nose, mixing with the smell of blood, dust and death he’s brought with him.

He prefers your scent. A perfume he struggles to remove from his casual clothing and his bed sheets. Not that he complains. He’d never complain.

If he had his way, the scent would be burned into his skin. It keeps him rooted and reminds him of the truth in all the lies that his brain conjures when insomnia strikes.

Helen. Look at me.

You don’t. You’re too busy using all of your focus as you dress his wound. Your delicate fingers slide the bandage around his palm, silently judging, silently tutting as you work your magic.

He knows you’re pissed—before you start muttering and tutting. You weren’t half as gentle with the needle as usual. Not even muttering an apology when you’d stabbed it a little too hard.

If it weren’t inflicted on him, he’d have egged you on. Rather liking your conniving ways. On him, not so much. Even if he can tell, you’re getting some sick satisfaction from making him wince.

But he needs your eyes.

He’s missed them.

“Sweetheart…”

It comes out stern and quiet, but it forces your chin up. Those big beautiful eyes land on him, and they feel like the sun.

At first, they’re soft, all kindness and love. In one blink, they’ve shifted. Scolding him, attempting to peel back his mask and scorch his face.

Fuck, you’re beautiful.

“A rusty knife? Really, Simon?”

“Better my hand than my neck.”

You clamp your mouth shut, hiding insults and your wicked way with words from him. The fact you do annoys him more than the coward who tried to stab him.

“There’s a choice to choose neither, you know,” you whisper, continuing to bandage his hand, focusing on the bow. “Could come back to me with just bruising and cuts. That’s a choice too.”

You tighten the final part of the bandage more purposefully, him biting back a wince as you look up at him again. The anger softens, sadness replacing it. A look he instead fucking hates, even if he’s the one who put it there.

“I’m never leavin’ you.”

“Oh, I’m aware,” you say, pushing back on the wheels of your chair for more distance, “Because if you considered it, I’d hunt you down. Hell or high water, I’d find you. And, let me make this crystal fucking clear, Simon Riley. I am both.”

He wants to lift his mask.

Show you the prize of his smile.

But he can’t risk it. Not here, not in the middle of your medical room that people barge in and out of.

It doesn’t matter how often the two of you try to steal moments; life has a way of ripping them from your grasp. But it doesn’t stop him from trying.

Instead, he grabs your leg, pulling you, pleasantly surprised you don’t fight him as you wheel between his legs. Your annoyance is painted as clear as day, his fingers releasing your leg before resting on your knee.

“Understood,” he says, drawing a soft circle against your knee. Watching you, watching him. A moment, between all the others, where it’s just the two of you. “Go eat, Helen.”

“I’m fi—“

He squeezes your knee, silencing you. Staring at you to remind you he knows you. Knows that you haven’t eaten two meals a day, never mind three. That he’s had people check on you, ask about you.

That in his own fucking way, he cares, so let him care. Let him take care of you.

You swallow as if realising this. As if the two of you are in the middle of a conversation, you’re both having with your eyes.

He wins.

The only way he knows that is from the sweet little groan you give him as he returns to drawing a circle on your knee.

“Sometimes, Simon. I really can’t stand you.”

“Feelings mutual, Helen.”

You remove your glove, placing your hand gently over his. It’s warm, gentle and yet calloused in its own way.

And he should tell you to leave.

Tell you to get food before you’re left with scraps you’ll complain to him about later. But this is nice. It’s comforting. It’s something he can’t genuinely articulate and is glad you don’t ask him to try.

And then, you hand him his glove. The one stained scarlet and still damp with his blood.

He nods.

You nod.

The two of you send the other a look which has become close to a parting kiss, without you both touching. One that will have to do until he can really kiss you later. Until he can remind every inch of your skin that he came back, that he’s alive. He’ll do so, silently promising too, until you’re chanting his name to the point he realises this isn’t a dream, but reality.

A beautiful, unexplainable reality.

[ideasarestuckinmyhead]

It would be cool if you could make some headcanons the yv boys and an insomniac listener or maybe a Charlie and Casper one shot with Casper having some family issues or childhood trauma(projecting) I love your posts btw :D

Insomniac Listener

Since I'm doing all boys the HC will be short!

Alphonse:

I feel like his dad had insomnia too, but like not so extreme as Boo's.

He knew some tricks from when his Ma would make tea to tire his dad out.

Makes sure your phone is away from you so you don't get distracted.

Since naps could mess with you he'll only let you have short ones or none at all depending on the day you've had.

Seth:

His sleep schedule is shit too bc when he got out of jail it fucked with him.

Until Sugarboo got him on a schedule he has one for both of you.

No phone after 5 and yall eat early so when you do get tired yall can just go to bed.

Has some lavendar lotion he puts on both of you and clocks out.

Charlie:

He kinda knew about it when yall were younger. When he said you'd move around so much when yall cuddled during sleepovers.

But once yall reunited again he kinda? Is not the person to ask for help. We've seen his eye bags he ain't sleepin good either.

He did try some sleep remedies and the only one that worked was white noise. So he uses that for both of you, or some lavender spray on yall pillows (projecting)

Also has semi routine for yall when going to bed.

Faust:

HC he has a strick sleep schedule bc he needs beauty sleep. He immediately gets you on it.

Will adjust the routine so it works for you too. But once it works for both parties hes happy.

Uses a lot of lavender things for you, teas, lotion, spray, bubble bath, and more. He got a deal with some company and was like why not?

A weighted blanket as well bc he likes the weight on him.

Auron:

I feel like he has a shitty sleep schedule too. Always working but when he gets a big headache he takes it as a sign to go to bed. You both help each other to go to sleep at a good time.

He also has a schedule for yall since you both look rough when you don't follow one.

Auron learned a bit from Faust when he did live with him when younger and uses some of those.

If you need sleeping pills he'll buy them. Just tell him what you need and it's getting bough with a single click of his phone.

Finn:

There is so much tea you'll drown in it. He also has a special oil he made to help you sleep. He'll massage you (iykyk). Bubble baths number 2.

Warm meals to make you sleepy. He also needs this bc if he doesn't eat something warm before bed he's not tired. Either tea or warm milk as a drink before bed.

Phone is also taken bc he knows you're always on it (👀 slight projecting) he also closes the window and puts a fan on so you guys can listen to it.

Lucien:

He is your personal heater and weighted blanket. Just tell him if you need him to smoosh you into the bed for a comfortable night.

He will pick you up to be taken to bed (in more ways than one) but he knows it's hard to shut your brain off so he'll try and distract you with stories to make you sleep.

Also makes meals and drinks for you bc the chief in him commands him to do so. Good meals. that make you sleepy and want to go straight to bed.

Also is a man of semi routine. Mostly for you bc he can clonk out very fast, so he tries to make sure your comfy to sleep then he falls asleep.

[revenantlore]

. WIP introduction.

the spookyboys, in collaboration with @reeseweston

With an aching secret wedged between his ribs, Felix Novak embarks on a quest for truth and to unveil the existence of aliens, ghosts, cryptids, and everything in between.

Casper Nguyen, a firm non-believer in anything not proven by fact, unexpectedly becomes entangled in Felix’s pursuit of the impossible.

Together, they blur the lines between the known and the unexplainable—and their friendship along the way.

. soft rain hitting fallen leaves . disembodied voices on the wind . audio crackles on the radio . cozy sweaters a size too big . handprints on foggy windows . milkshakes and french fries . inside jokes between friends . murder mysteries and mayhem . a face in the mirror not belonging to you .

characters :

Felix Novak

Psychosis runs in the Novak family. At least that’s what his father’s been trying to convince Felix of ever since the day his mother was sent away following her hysterical claims of seeing a woman in their house that no one else could see.

Except … Felix is positive he saw her too.

Even more certain that he spoke to her.

Maybe not in words, but through his Ouija board.

Years have come and gone since then, and though Felix hasn’t yet been able to prove his mother’s sanity, he has seen his fair share of ghosts and monsters, of creatures both evil and benign, and he’s not given up looking for the truth.

Casper ‘Cas’ Nguyen

Ghosts don’t exist, Cas is as sure of that as he is the insomnia that plagues him.

That is, until he meets eccentric and curious Felix, a man insistent that this insomnia Cas suffers from might in fact be the cause of a ghost not only haunting his apartment but also sharing some sort of deeper connection that is much too extreme for Cas to grasp.

Even in the face of proof that this ghost, and others like it, might indeed exist, Cas remains skeptical.

Even after years following Felix prove the existence of the paranormal on film, Cas remains skeptical.

Because there has to be another explanation … right?

Croix Harvoth

Croix was once a kinder and gentler person, but ghosts ruined that for him.

A near-death experience during an attempt to bring his former best friend’s girlfriend back to life has left him haunted. Literally. To the point he can’t sleep most days because the ghosts in his occult shop / apartment won’t shut the fuck up.

Like he owes them something, they come to him seeking help, seeking guidance to the next stage of their lives … or lack thereof … and no matter what he does, he can’t seem to get rid of them.

It’s turned him into an asshole of a hermit who avoids the living as often as he can … which isn’t easy when you run a business.

Someone’s got to pay the bills, though, and his cat, Jackass, will starve without her damned cat food, so what’s a guy going to do?

Atticus Flood

Some might say he is too giving, too gentle, too eager to help, and they would be right.

Atticus can heal the ailments of others, from minor wounds to major ones, from simple sorrows to the deepest mental aches, but in turn, it takes a part of him, too.

His hair is losing its color, drained from its deep black roots to a haunting white like a spider’s thread. His nails have taken on a similar fate, but his eyes still hold some of the life still lingering in him.

Taking it too much further might mean the end for him, but Atticus isn’t sure he can say no.

Especially not when he meets Croix and knows he might be the only thing that can save him from his demons.

Katy Lovelace

Everyone needs a friend acquainted in witchcraft, though Felix might have been skeptical when they first met. Which is saying something, considering all of his out-there beliefs … but this was different. This was putting his best friend in the hands of a stranger, inexperienced in the ways of magic, no one quite knowing what risks they might face.

Now, though, she’s a go-to friend for advice on crystals and spells, and the occasional bath time essential oil recommendations.

[lya-dustin]

(@queen--kenobi) Oh the bed prompt #8, dealer's choice as the pairing!

ohh I love that perse💙💙💙

⁸⁾ in a fit of anger after a mission gone wrong, both characters sleep in the only available bed because no one was chivalrous to offer to take the floor

Desperate Measures

cw: mentions of murder, poison, sex, implied sexual abuse, referenced domestic abuse, mentions of court intrigue

Jena Mertyns knows damn well what awaits her if she does not do this.

She has no brothers and while Andal law prohibited a cousin or an uncle inheriting before a daughter, Jena knew they would just marry her to her brute of a cousin and call it a day.

After all that was what they did when she was six and ten a decade ago. And now Casper Mertyns was dead by her own hand only to have his odious brother dispose of his bride after she finally birthed a healthy son and brought the matter to the King.

Jena could not become Byron the Brute’s wife nor lose Mistwood to that fucker. She didn’t kill her drunkard of a father and her cruel husband to lose her freedom and rights to Byron of all people.

The only way to keep her title and lands away from her goodbrother was to seek a husband with the power to shift the small council’s favor to her and give her the son Casper the Cunt lacked the virility to provide her with.

Not necessarily a lord paramount nor the heir to a greater house, the son or a member of the King’s Privy Council would do. But Beesbury’s sons are wed, Larys Strong would kill her before she can kill him, recently widowed Cousin Jasper is too new to his post, Tyland Lannister was happily married to a Reyne and, while she would give her right arm to fuck Criston Cole, the Kingsguard were sworn for life and chances are he will end up fucking the queen the moment Viserys croaks.

Which left only two men.

The Queen’s brother, heir to nothing but some meager holdings and also said man’s father.

But Ser Otto had not been in his rooms and his staff too difficult to bribe which resulted in this change to her plans.

Come morning she will be betrothed to Ser Gwayne Hightower and plenty of red-haired babes will stand between her and her goodbrother soon after.

“I heard rumors of your promiscuity, but never heard the part where you chase your victims, Lady Jena.” Gwayne enters his room to find her in a half-laced kirtle on his bed.

“Then it is your lucky day, Ser.” The dark-haired woman plays up her seductive nature as he makes to leave only to find the door locked from the outside, just as she had paid his manservant and guards to do.

“Night, you mean.” The red-haired knight groans when he finds himself too high up in the tower to successfully climb down from it. “I will not fuck you, but I will not let you sleep in my bed.”

“And I will not leave this bed, you may put your sword between us if you fear I will steal your virtue.” She moves to the side and pats the place where she expects her soon-to-be husband to sleep.

For the crime of fucking some of her father’s creditors to keep herself alive and fed, she has been branded a whore. As if the world wasn’t filled with women who had to fuck a man they didn’t want to stay alive, or in the Queen’s case, on their father’s orders.

And now because she will not marry Byron and suffer under him like she suffered his elder brothee and her own father, she has done to Gwayne what some men do to gain a wife.

He will forgive her and marry her; he is known for the chivalry his father pretends to have.

“Why are you doing this?” Gwayne asks as he undressed behind a screen as if a naked man were something unknown to her.

“I need a husband who is well-connected enough to keep Byron from claiming me and Mistwood.” The Stormlander does not beat around the bush, her prey is captured, and the trap shut too tight to prevent escape. “Your father would not wish to lose the chance of gaining a real inheritance for you as well as a foothold in the Stormlands if the offer presented itself.”

“Then why not seduce him?” the red-haired man pulls on a cotton nightshirt over his head now having completely tossed away his court clothes.

“I tried; his room is too closely guarded.” Jena’s answer results in stifled mirth.

“So, you consoled yourself with trapping me?” he asks, and she answered with a yes.

“Upon reflection, I realized I needed to change my course if I wanted to succeed. While it is impractical to wed a man too old to manipulate and too young to die of perceived natural causes—” Jena explains her schemes inner working.

“Perceived natural causes?” he laughs knowing how easily it came to her to admit she’d kill her husband the moment he became a burden.

“He has been removed once; the second time will include the removal of his soul from his mortal body. Most bet it will be Daemon Targaryen who does it, others think your sister might dine privately with Lord Larys again and make him Hand.” The dark-haired lady states the obvious. As good at hiding as the Green Queen is, she forgets the Master of Whisperers was publicly seen entering her chamber and in a fortnight his father and brother were gone along with Harrenhal’s century long repairs.

Gods, Jena loathes when people deny their own capacity for evil. Alicent Hightower may claim innocence all she wants, but no one who plays these sorts of games lasts a single round without blooding their hands directly or indirectly.

Jena should know, her last sexual favor paid for the poison in her husband’s drinking horn and soon enough it will be Byron’s turn. If her dear goodsister wishes, it could go into King Viserys’ favorite goblet and his daughter’s wedding wine.

“I never resort to tricks like this, when I want to fuck a man all I have to do is look at him and he will cross mountains and oceans to find my bed.” She holds his gaze to show her boast holds grains of truth.

No matter how many prayers are held, and Seven-Pointed Stars appear, a cunt opened more doors than a chest full of gold dragons. Something Ser Otto confirmed when he sent four- and ten-year-old Alicent to Viserys’ bed almost six and ten years ago.

“Then why not seduce me that way? You were quite impressive at eye fucking me during yesterday’s service at the Sept.” the Knight asks finally giving up and laying on the bed with her.

“Byron’s petitioning the King for my hand tomorrow. Killed his wife for the occasion and everything, I cannot afford to have the Council rule the way they did back then.” This interrogation was not what she had planned, but she supposed Gwayne is not the type to rush into the battle without a strategy. “Trust me, I would have had you on your back by the next service if the situation allowed it.”

“You are a bold one, but I do not believe your appeal is that powerful, Lady Hightower.” He turns on his side and takes in the sight of her finally getting to the part she wanted: the part where they fuck.

“Shall we put it to the test, Lord Mertyns?”

----

[antis0cial23]

The Pride of the Navy

Chapter 6: Familial Ties

Summary: going home has its ups… and its downs

Warnings: Mentions of deteriorating health, swearing

Maverick sat at the bar, cool beer in hand. Some aviators chittered around him, back by the pool table, some by the dart boards Penny kept having to replace, and some just scattered throughout. His phone was cool in his hands, not being used and most certainly not on Penny’s bar top, never in a million years would he forget about that, nor would his savings recover.

“Long day, pilot?” Penny asked, already knowing what happened during todays class. Maverick gave her a tired look, all telling. “Word travels fast in the Navy, Mav.” She offered him a smile, then got back to tending to her patrons at the bar. Maverick’s phone buzzed, the screen lighting his palm. After a sigh and some contemplation, he looked at the glowing screen. Lo and behold, it was none other than Admiral Kazansky, or outside of work, Ice.

‘I need to see you.’ Of course he did. After the burnout today during training, what higher up wouldn’t want to see him.

‘Not a good time.’ Because of-fucking-course it wasn’t. All Maverick, in his self-proclaimed old-age-but-let’s-not-act-like-it, wanted to do was go home and sleep like the old man he kept getting told he was.

‘I wasn’t asking.’ One thing Maverick had learned in his lifetime, is that Tom ‘Iceman’ Kazansky was absolute shit at asking people nicely. Maybe that’s why he had climbed the ranks of the Navy as quickly as he did, but boy did it get beyond annoying. Maverick wanted to slam his head on the bar top, but he had a feeling if he did so it would be against one of Penny’s not explicitly written rules, and he did not want to risk spending his savings on Navy-men’s beer. Again. So, it looked like he would have to make the nearly three hour drive to Ice’s abode. His phone dinged again, so he looked at it with a sigh full of annoyance, but it wasn’t Admiral Kazansky, it was Quinlan.

‘Srry 2 bother, u heard anythn frm Roo’ The way kids typed always confused Maverick, full words were not that difficult.

‘Im driving, don judge me, I can feel the old mn judgmnt frm hre’ Adding to his annoyance, Quinn was texting while driving. ‘Oh joy, how did one of the pilots under your supervision die? Not mission related? Crazy.’ Maverick could already see the headline. To keep her off her phone, Mav decided to call.

“Sup, Mav.” Quin tried to sound less tired than she felt, not wanting her mentor to know the real strain the training was having on everyone, or more so not wanting him to ask her about it.

“Cas, don’t text and drive.” Mav sighed, “So you think calling me, when I drive a 1972 Impala, is any better?” The sarcasm her voice held was immense.

“Just keep your eyes on the road.” Maverick put his hand on his head, slightly massaging his temples. These kids were going to be the death of him. “Why do you think Bradley would talk to me, Casper.” By now, Maverick had made his way to the back deck of the bar, everything less loud, also leaving money on the bar for Penny.

“Long-shot guess to see if he’s contacted anyone… Mav he isn’t home and isn’t returning anyone’s calls.” She had a worried edge to her voice, which Mav completely understood because he had felt just like she sounded.

“So you text me, because you are worried?” He honestly felt a little bit of joy, knowing at least one of the aviators he taught didn’t hate him in totality after today.

“Shut up.” Quinlan grumbled, barely audible over the noise from her driving and from the bar behind Maverick.

“If I hear anything, I’ll let you know, kid. Where are you even driving to at…” He looked at the time, his phone displaying 9:47 shining in pale bolded numbers. “Jesus, at nine forty at night.”

“Headed home to see some family…” Quin was never very forthcoming with personal information, but this was indeed a start. At least to Maverick it was. “Thanks for the day off, Mav.” And with that, Quin hung up and continued her drive.

 She was about two and a half hours in, about thirty minutes to go, and Quinlan couldn’t be more ready to get out of her car. The rumbling of the old engine was making her hands numb, all her muscles already sore and tense from training. The drive to Santa Monica was one she had only ever made with Emmelyn. Although Quin and Emmelyn didn’t share the same dad, Quin’s always treated Emmelyn as his, well, that being after he found out about Quin. A DNA test right before entering the Navy found Quinlan’s still very alive dad, contrary to what her mother had told her.

“Did ya get the results yet?” Emmelyn called through the kitchen. Quin, not knowing much about her lineage, or anything about her father for that matter, had decided to complete a DNA test that included health risks along with the family tree. Every time she had brought it up to her mom, she got told no, but now she was eighteen and had her own money from working at the local supply store.

“Just came in the mail, Em. Where’s momma?” Quinlan did buy the kit with her mother’s knowledge, but she still felt guilty opening her results if she were home.

“She’s out at the Cody’s. Think Diane invited her.” Quin nodded, if her mom was at Diane’s house, she’d most certainly be gone for a while. Oh, how mothers could talk.

Quinlan peeled open the envelope, Emmelyn over her shoulder the whole time. First on the paper was the list of genetically predisposed illnesses and her likelihood of getting them. Mostly everything Quin was low risk for, thankfully. Further down was her mothers relatives, which she slightly knew, at least by name, each having a ‘living’ or ‘deceased’ label next to them. And on the back? Her father. Looking down the list from double great grandparents and down, apparently her grandfather was alive. Quinlan paused, eyes hovering over the name of her father. She had known his first name, one night when her mom had a little too much Rye Whiskey and slipped up, but never his last. Next to his name was the label ‘Living’.

“Wait, didn’t momma say Daddy died?” Quin took a minute to respond, Emmelyn still hovering as closely as ever, unsure of the true weight of her statement. “Yeah, she did.” Quin read the name at least five times. Well this was going to be a fun conversation.

And that was the first time Quinlan learned her father was actually living and breathing. The following conversation with her mother, while her mother was unfortunately a bit tipsy on whiskey, went just as well as one would’ve hoped, full of tears and misspoken words. That fight, words never being able to be taken back, is was led Quin to reach out to her dad. Maybe he didn’t know about her beforehand and was slow to warm up, but Quin was beyond glad she had found him.

“Uh… Hi. My name is, uh, is Quinlan Emai. I received some results from a DNA test, and it uh, it told me you’re my dad? Shit, this is so weird. Jesus this could have been an email, I’m one of those people. Um, I don’t really know what the fuck else to say, soo… Call me back when you get a chance? Maybe? Jesus- sorry” After that voicemail to one Navy man, Quin honestly thought about throwing herself off a bridge. This guy was stationed in Cali, Quin living in a small Texan town near the coast. She was hoping, at the least, the man would not return her call. But alas, a few days later, a call from an unknown number.

“Hello?” Quinn held her phone, expecting whoever called to be spam.

“Hi, this is Tom Kazansky…” Quinlan froze at the name, “You, uh, you called about a week ago?” “Oh, shit. Uh, hi?” Quin responded after a moment of phone static. Both sat in silence for a few moments, neither knowing what to say.

“Fuck, sorry. You’re probably wondering who my mom is. She’s uh, her name is Cecilla Emai. We’re, um, We’re in Texas.” Another few moments of silence followed, Quin could hear the gears in his head turning.

“Oh, beginning of ‘86?” Quin assumed that was when they met. “Well, would make sense. Was born October 1986.” Quinlan honestly didn’t want to talk about her conception date.

“I… wow. Sorry, I uh didn’t expect to have a kid.” Quin chuckled,

 “Yeah, and I didn’t expect to have an alive dad. Momma always said you were dead.” A small noise of surprise escaped Tom.

“She told you I was dead?” the surprise was as clear as day.

 “yeah, said you died so I shouldn’t go lookin’. Guess she was ashamed to have a kid without a dad so she told everyone he was dead.”

“She never even tried to tell me, if she told me…” Tom trailed off, “You’re in the Navy, and I don’t think there is anything that would get momma to leave.” Quinlan did truly wonder what life would be like if her dad was around.

“I at least would’ve given her money… How is she?” Quin gave a disappointed laugh, “usually drunk or not at home. Two kids take a toll, especially when the father of the second is a known felon.” At that, Tom Kazansky was officially speechless.

“Hey, I guess wanting to be a pilot runs in the blood. I just got my naval academy acceptance letter…” Quin trailed off, not knowing why she was telling a man she just honestly met.

“What’re you going in for?” A new form of excitement filled his tone.

“Pilot. Air Force wouldn’t accept the condition of me being my sister’s caretaker.” They proceeded to talk for at least thirty minutes about Tom’s declassified missions and tips from him.

“Who’re you runnin’ up that phone bill with, Q.” Cecilla asked, more of a way as telling her to get off the phone.

“Take a wild, guess momma.” Quin’s voice was edging towards sharp, her mom narrowing her eyes. “Who is it?” Cecilla’s tone matched Quinlan’s.

“My dad. Would you like to say hi? Since, ya know, he isn’t dead.” Quin still held fire from their earlier argument, Tom sat on the other line awkward and unsure of what to do.

“Quinlan Daliah Emai, get off the damn phone right now.” Cecilla’s tone was final, but Quin always had a rebuttal. Afterall, she was the daughter of a stubborn Texan and The famous Iceman.

“You haven’t paid the phone bill since you spent all the cash you got, which wasn’t hardly any, on liquor. Can’t tell me to end a phone call when I pay the price.” Quin sounded nonchalant, her voice matter of fact. Her mother only stared, Tom Kazansky awkwardly trying to find an out from the call.

“If you don’t hang up that damn phone, I will find a way to pull your application.” Cecilla’s voice held the same calmness, which Tom could only guess was terrifying in person.

“If you weren’t so drunk off your ass, Ma, you would know I’ve already been accepted. Now if you’d excuse me, I have a previously absentee father to get to know.” Quinlan shut the pocket door to the kitchen, done with the soon to be argument with her mother.

“I… is that, is that normal?” Tom’s voice sounded incredibly unsure, unaware if that was even appropriate to ask.

“The truth? Yeah. As song as Em isn’t home.” Quinlan did everything in her power to not fight in front of her little sister, even if her mother provoked the living hell out of her.

“I assume Em is your sister?” Tom questioned lightly, gently.

“Yeah, her name is Emmelyn Rose Emai. Momma has a thing for flower middle names. She is eight. Thinks we have the same Dad.” Quin’s tone edged towards sadness at the last statement, wishing Em was her full-blood sister, but she still treated the kid with every intent that she was.

“Well… I would say I’m slightly better than a convicted felon.” Tom huffed a laugh, and so did Quin, “Honestly, I’d love to get to know you more, and Emmelyn for the matter, she’s young enough to still have a childhood with a Dad.” To say the least, Quin was shocked. She expected him to either say nothing, or say hello and move on, but she certainly wasn’t ready for this.

“Shit, you’re serious?” She was dumbfounded.

“I mean if you are open to that. In my family, we take kin very seriously. I’ve missed eighteen years, why should I miss any more?” Tom sounded very sure, which calmed Quin’s mind a little bit.

“Quinlan Emai, I’ve given you five minutes, now get off the damn phone and go get your sister.” Cecilla’s voice yelled through the shut door, muffled and barely recognizable over the phone.

“Fuck, uh sorry, I have to go get Em, mom’s had too much to drive. Bye!” Quin quickly hung up, ending her first ever conversation with her very much alive father.

            As far as first meetings go, Quin’s very much could’ve gone better. But, it led to having a relationship with her Dad, and Emmelyn having one too. That phone call turned into summer visits, and a place to stay for them both once their mother passed two years later. Quin pulled up to the personal housing of Admiral Tom “Iceman” Kazansky, the place she called home even despite her rural accent. She turned off the trembling engine, hands finally free of the incessant buzzing sensation. Quin decided to park around the back of the house, opting to surprise her siblings in the morning, having seen their cars in the driveway. Quin got out of her car, grabbing her back up travel bag from her trunk as quietly as possible.

            She walked up to the back door, unlocking it with her spare key she kept on her keychain escribed with her callsign. A gift from Rooster, no less. She had texted Ice previous to her arrival, not wanting to scare him by showing up at random. The light shown through the door of his office, surprising Quin that he was still awake. At 61, being awake after 9:30 was definitely a large feat. She padded lightly to the office, knocking on the door lightly before stepping in.

            “Hey, Dad.” He turned his head at her voice, meeting her soft, but nonetheless tired, smile. He returned it with his own, although not quite reaching his eyes like it did just a few years before. Ice was bad about voicing his problems, something Quin learned was hereditary and compounded from his years in the Navy. They stared at each other for a few minutes, then she realized he wasn’t speaking, the white cursor on his monitor blinking as the black screen remained bare.

            “Fuck.” Quin’s whispered curse was the only sound in the air. Ice turned to type and with her increasingly watery eyes, quin watched the screen.

            ‘I’m fine, you have other things to worry about.’ The white words stared back like little knives picking her tear ducts.

            “You say that as you are, quite literally, my dad.” Quin huffed a laugh, although pained by the fact of his health.

            ‘Come sit.’ Quin pulled up a chair, facing him as he cleared his screen.

            ‘How’s Bradley.’ Quin just looked down at her clasped hands, shaking her head.

            “Haven’t heard from him since before I left. Didn’t even see him after Seresin outed his death wish.” Quin looked up from her hands, Ice looking at her expectantly. He knew the hurt and the issues they had faced, firsthand for that matter, but he also knew she miraculously still cared.

            ‘Just talk to him.’ Ice kept the same stare. “Really Dad, how am I supposed to talk to someone who doesn’t acknowledge my existence?” Her face was tired, not wanting to have that conversation at the current moment in time. Ice didn’t type anything new, nor did he delete his previous words. A low cough left his being, hurting Quin to hear.

            “Go to bed, kid.” His voice was gravel-filled and quiet, displaying his pain. Quin looked at him for a few more moments before standing up and leaving his office, but not before throwing in a small ‘goodnight’. As she made her way up to her bedroom, quietly passing her siblings rooms, she couldn’t wait to lay down and knock out. The days problems would just have to wait till tomorrow.

———————————————————

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@aki-ham

@florencediet

[ajgrey9647]

🍁🍲 + World of the Coinless + Sentry Skull & Sentry Adam

Autumn Meal Confessions

“Well, I see you’re still in one piece so I’m going to assume he liked the wild fuckery ‘you’ put together,” Skull teased as he watched Adam hightailing it back out into the courtyard. 

The Black Sentry’s face was as pale as Casper’s crisp, snow white ass and his thick hair was noticeably damp with sweat. He glared at the other man as he passed, still not far enough from the palace to feel comfortable. Skull pried himself from the pillar he’d been leaning against as he waited (and prayed and begged the universe) for his Adam’s return. 

The gravel crunched under their heavy boots as the two made their way back to their barracks. Eugene had to break into a brief jog to catch up to the spooked younger man, but he didn’t attempt conversation until they’d ducked into Adam’s sleeping quarters.

The Black Sentry slammed the door and braced himself against it, eyes squeezed shut and lip trembling.

“Sucks, doesn’t it?” Skull tried gently. “As I said, it doesn’t ever get any easier. But at least, this only happens once in a blue moon. That fucker usually has his own grand ideas for punishments.”

Reaching under his jacket, he pulled out his flask and extended it to Adam, who swiped it briskly without a moment of hesitation. He gulped the vile liquid like a man lost in the desert, sliding down the door to the dusty ground. Skull couldn’t help but give a mirthful chuckle, watching the jittery man return to earth.

“Careful, that shit will still get you rip roaring drunk if you chug it like that.”

“Don’t care right now. I want to forget that whole close encounter I just endured. Why the hell would anyone want Drakkon’s attention?” Adam sputtered, the brew dribbling down his chest plate.

Skull shrugged.

“Believe it or not, there are those who aspire to be just like that ass clown. Drakkon’s not the only one of his kind in this world,” he commented, staring down at the small ball the Black Sentry had curled into, arms hugging his knees to his chest and face buried. 

Adam heard the creaking and squeaking of rusty hinges and looking up, noted that Skull was peering into the nearly barren cabinets. He pulled another long swing on the flask.

“What are you looking for? I don’t have much unless you count the cockroaches, mice, and spiders. Definitely no cookies or candies…”

“I can see that,” Eugene sighed, turning back to where the Black Sentry huddled. “Come on, upsy daisy…”

He held out a red armored hand and pulled Adam to his feet.

“Where are we going?”

Tugging the smaller man’s arm, Skull guided him out the door and back into the crisp autumn sunshine. The other Sentries glanced over at the pair with interest, curious themselves at what twisted punishment Adam had come up with that was good enough for Drakkon not to set Red upon the soft spoken man.

“People are looking at me like I’m the devil,” he whispered morosely.

“Ehh, they’re just jealous. Some of them wish they’d been permitted to present their perverse ideas,” Skull answered. “As for where we’re going, well, you need some food in you whether you feel like it or not. You’ll thank me later, friend.”

The thought of eating did turn his stomach, but Adam knew that Skull was well experienced in these matters and decided to trust his judgment. Picking their way amongst the throng of people, Sentries and farmers and artisans alike, the two arrived at a small lean-to situated near the kitchens. 

Catching sight of the Red Sentry, the large, expressionless man sitting at the long table tilted his head respectfully.

“He’s with me,” Skull nodded over at Adam. “Give us the dumpster special.”

Being such a fucking picky ass eater, Drakkon frequently wasted large quantities of perfectly good food. Once it hit the garbage, it was fair game for whoever got to it first. From the leavings, fine meals could be fashioned and distributed to those with enough ‘sway’. Skull was one of those with the requisite rank and networking to be served.

Reaching under the table, the ‘chef’ pulled out two small parchment wrapped bundles. 

“Bon appetit!” he grunted flatly.

Skull tilted his head in thanks and scooped up the foodstuffs. Adam followed him silently to an empty bench near the perimeter wall where the Red Sentry flopped, tossing him one of the meals.

Inside the parchment were decent looking meat sandwiches of some sort. It even had a misting of condiments. Without missing a beat, Eugene dug into the dry bread, crumbs sticking to his lips as he chewed. Adam lifted the top slice of bread and frowned.

“This is the good eats, son,” Skull teased. “Drakkon’s cast offs. Dig in! It’s by far better than the shit we get served in the dining hall.”

Adam took a cautious bite. His eyes lit up at the savory seasonings and tangy mustard. The other man chuckled at his innocent expression, shaking his head kindly.

Lowering his sandwich to his lap, the Black Sentry sighed.

“How do you do it, Skull? Stay so upbeat? Keep your wits about you in this fucked up psych experiment?”

“Lots of practice. And a smidge of rage and desire for vengeance.”

“You want Drakkon to get what’s coming to him, too…” Adam’s voice lowered as he glanced around to make sure no one was in earshot.

Not good to have an audience when you were talking treason.

Skull’s face hardened into a mask of fury that the Black Sentry had never seen before.

“Damn straight, I do. And I’m sure you’re in the same boat. After what he did to your family…”

Adam nodded, his eyes stinging with remembered pain. 

“He didn’t have to kill them. I was doing what he wanted.”

“He didn’t have to kill a lot of people, Adam. But he’s a monster. There is no winning with him. Besides shoving a sword through his face,” Skull hissed. “He’s broken so many hearts just for shits and giggles.”

The delicious sandwich felt like sawdust in the Red Sentry’s mouth now and he spat it into the grass. 

“I still think about Billy every day,” he admitted softly. “I think I will for the rest of my life.”

They sat in silence for a moment, contemplating if they could manage any more of their lunch. It was Skull who noticed the face peering down at them from one of the tower windows. The gray hair lifted in the fall breeze and a soft noise just barely reached his ears. 

‘Red… shit…’ 

Did he hear what they were saying? Surely that was impossible. What was he doing?

He held up a hand for Adam to remain quiet as he strained his ears. The Black Sentry noted who Skull was looking at and froze in horror.

“He’s crying…” Eugene whispered in disbelief. “Red’s crying…”

Very faintly, Skull heard the pet’s plea.

“Please… help me… save me…”

[carolinablues-story]

33 x Play The Game x part 2

Jermaine 

I took a deep breath as I pulled the keys out of the lock, closing the door behind me. It felt good to finally be home after yet another tiring training camp. Due to the last two days, I hadn’t much sleep--mainly because of my own choices. But today I was sure I was going to sleep even if I had to force myself to do so. My mind was overwhelmed with everything that was going on in my life, and with me still missing Cam I found any and every reason not to be here. Today I didn’t have  a reason so I’d have to face the reality. Hell, this was probably the step I needed to take to stop missing her. 

I quickly stepped out of my practice shoes and flipped the light switch to the right of me. It felt like my heart jumped out of my chest when I registered Cam standing in the middle of the living room floor, glaring at me. I would ask how the hell she got inside but I quickly remembered that I didn’t take the key away from her. 

“You’re not the only one that does pop ups.” She crossed her arms over her chest, laughing at my confused expression. 

“You had time to fly out here? Because you was Casper all before then...had a nigga stalking his then girlfriend, the fuck!” 

“We’ve talked about that! We need to talk... now.” I took note of her outfit, some light washed jeans and an oversized hoodie. It wasn’t something I was used to her wearing so I could tell she ‘rushed’ here. Sighing, I threw my keys on the coffee table that stood between us. Without removing my eyes from her, I took off my jacket tossed it and sat on the couch that was closer to me than her. I leaned forward and propped my elbows on my knees, giving her the most bored expression I could possibly give her. 

“Talk.”

“Where have you been all night? First of all. And what do you mean ‘then girlfriend’!?” Cam slapped her thighs before flopping back into the couch. She look exhausted but I also couldn’t find myself to care. I guess seeing her helped me to realize that I didn’t miss her as much as I thought I did. Having her in my presence allowed all the anger I really had towards her to resurface. I honestly don’t know how she could stand here questioning me right now like we didn’t  talk about this as she said.  

“Why you care? You not my girl!” I retorted out of anger, I was in my head thinking aloud. As soon as I realized it, I locked eyes with a teary eyed Camryn. Only then did my heart soften. Maybe we did need to talk, because she didn’t even understand that she was the one that said we weren’t going to last longer anyway. I didn’t even stop to think that maybe it was her feelings talking that day, but she seemed so cold why would I? It’s not like I ever had a woman in the past to base this thinking off of and she knew that. “I didn’t mean to yell...but you said that we weren’t going to last.” I finally shrugged when Camryn seemed to be speechless. 

“I know what I said but-”

“But what?”

“But I was upset...Jermaine you kissed Zayn how do you think I would feel?” Camryn tears finally let loose and I wanted so badly to jump this couch and hold her. I was stuck however. 

“Cam, there is nothing in this world I can truly do to prove to you that I am sorry. I lied. I lied about not being attracted to A’zayn...but she was never you to me and I saw past that. I was wrong for wanting you to see that. I didn’t want her at the time...”

“At the time?” Camryn head cocked to the side and she wiped her eyes for the first time. I shook my head. Damn Jermaine you really got to learn when to fucking shut up, I thought. “So you want her now?” I was the one speechless now. What could I truly say?

After that night, Zayn and I were spending more time together on the low. And when I say low I mean just that. I never knew there were so many lowkey spots in North Carolina and I’ve been here my whole life before the draft. Zayn was cool as fuck. I could not deny. Before Cam, I hadn’t been cool with any other woman since high school. Once I graduated, I was a man on a mission and nothing came in between that until I met Cam. I was so disciplined. I had dreams to accomplish, things I wanted to give my mama, my brother. Hell, my whole family. Then I met Camryn and she became my everything. She taught me another side of life I didn’t know I wanted to learn. She taught me how to fall in love for real. How to become friends with someone, making sure you’re really ready for something with that person. I was ready for it all with Cam. I always had been. I was waiting on her to finally catch up, and when she did it blew up in our faces and I met Zayn. I didn’t plan on meeting her. I didn’t plan on getting to know her. The same way I was drawn to Camryn, I could almost say for Zayn except she doesn’t need me. Zayn is a strong woman, and I learned that over the last few days. We got to know each other, deep conversations. Games. Tv shows. Lil dinner dates. Everything to get our minds off of reality. We didn’t do anything except enjoy each others company. It felt good to have an escape. Cam was always in the back of my mind every time though. I kept wondering if I was hurting her and my heart would sting. Each time Zayn would notice and call it a night. It had been two days since I last talked to her being that I had done that three nights in a row after spending two weeks truly enjoying her time.

So again, what could I really say? 

“Are you falling for her?” Camryn voice whimpered into my thoughts. I looked at her and sighed. For the first time I could finally move. I got up and crossed the short distance between us and sat down beside her. I could feel her relax and that was enough to help me think my thoughts through for whatever she wanted to ask after this. 

“No, I am not. Camryn I love you. I loved you since the night I’ve met you. I see you in my life. I never knew how much I needed you until I needed you and I risk majority of what I have to keep you around. You...you told me that I didn’t love you because I wanted you here, with me. Where I feel like you should be. I thought you was mine, my family. I wanted that with you. I still do. Its like, my heart only beat for you. But you hurt me Cam. Because I ain’t never in my life did no shit like what I did with you. I missed a game that night. You know that before anybody AND you know why....that wasn’t enough for you? I could have understood a...I don’t even know. But to tell me I don’t love you because of a sudden decision....and then use my career against me...its like how could you?”

“Jermaine, I-” Camryn reached for my hand, immediately my guard was back up and I put space between us. This caused her to cry again and I blew a breath out, shaking my head. 

“I’m not done. You signed up for this, you could have walked away at any moment. You know my career and what it entails. So it wasn’t, and will never be the same. I knew you were in school, I knew your dreams, your goals...and you switched them...for a big break? No offense but what am I?” I couldn’t help but laugh. So many women would kill to be Cam. I love her but lets be frank, in reality she freeloaded off of a complete stranger under the guise of ‘best friend’ until she suddenly fell in love. What kind of fairytale shit is that? And who wouldn’t want it? 

“I don’t think of you as some big bank, Jermaine!” She gasped looking at me seriously. 

“Well, I don’t know what you think. But what I do think, is that you thought, or possibly still do think that your life starts in Cali. So who am I to stop you? I meant nothing that night when you left, if I don’t love you for never wanting you to go in the first place.” I huffed and leaned back into the chair. I felt a weird emotion come across me. What the hell? Suddenly my cheeks were wet, Camryn noticed and shot out of the chair hovering over me as if I were dying. 

“Are you crying?” She shrieked. I could tell she was concerned. I quickly wiped my face, standing up. 

“Man move.” I sighed. Camryn stepped to the side. I was done with this conversation. After realizing I was crying, my whole body went numb. I couldn’t remember the last time I cried. Honest to God.

 I don’t know what Camryn did to me, but I don’t ever in my life want to feel like this again. 

Its a bet. 

Camryn

Jermaine went to what used to be our room and slammed the door. Suddenly after that I felt and heard the wall thud, some glass breaking and Jermaine yell “fuck” as loud as I have ever heard any man in my life yell. 

Because everything was so sudden, my reaction was to drop to my knees, cradling myself. My heart was beating so fast. I didn’t know what to think, or feel. I have never seen Jermaine this mad in all the years of knowing him and he gets mad. 

My cheeks went hot as I cried to myself letting our conversation replay in my mind. Over the last month, I wasn’t sure but  I am more than sure now that I have lost him. Because how can we ever come back from this? Can it be the same? Especially since he never really addressed what was going on between him and Zayn. Camryn didn’t want to admit it but she still managed to have Jermaine’s location and she had been watching him like a hawk. Explaining her exhausted face he was questioning as he looked over her earlier.

She cried so many nights because she knew if he wasn’t at least with Zayn, he was with someone. He was going places neither of them had been and he was there for long time periods. Not only that but it was the same time every night as if it was planned. Leading her to believe that it was Zayn because she had gone had the grid under the paps eyes when it came to them two. She knows they just didn’t suddenly stop talking. 

Cam cried harder, gulping and gasping as she suddenly began to realize that if it was her, they could possibly be fucking. She couldn’t fathom the thought of someone, the only one, she shared intimacy with, being with someone else. Especially Zayn. She was gorgeous and had an undeniable aura.

Heaving she began pleading within herself to God to ease her mind. Her thoughts were racing and she couldn’t control her breaths. How did they get here?

*OPEN POV* 

In the morning Camryn was suddenly awoken by the sound of the front door slamming close. Jerking up she looked around until her eyes landed on the digital clock near the tv. It read 7:38. She couldn’t help but worry about where he was going but her thoughts subsided to focus on her sore joints. 

She ended up crying herself to sleep on the floor and though uncomfortable, she had gotten some rest for the first time in days. She winced at the sound of her bones cracking as she stood up. Her mind was in a fog. Cam didn’t know what to do or think. All she knew, is that until he said or did otherwise they were done and all she could do now was accept it. Being that she was the one to say it first anyway. As long as they both know, Jermaine would have kept trying. Cam calling it quits at the first real sight of trouble showed Jermaine everything he really needed to know deep down inside about their relationship. 

Sighing to herself, she grabbed her keys off the table, noticing Jermaine left his. Was he coming back? Nevertheless she slid her slides on that she didn’t remember taking off and treaded for the front door as well. Sure enough the door was unlocked as she let herself out. Instantly she noticed Jermaine on the hood of his car, and she ‘bout fainted when a cloud of smoke escaped his lips. 

“What the fuck!?” Camryn exasperated, advancing towards him. He smirked at her as she approached him, attempting to grab the blunt out of his hand. “What are you doing Jermaine? Seriously stop!” Jermaine laughed in her face, pushing her back with one arm extended out. Tall mf. 

“I know you not worried...” He grumbled at her, bending down to put the blunt out. Jermaine smoked back in high school and a little throughout college, it helped him when he was down and out. It was nothing to him to go to his stash and remind himself where he really came from. To some discipline was a joke, to Jermaine it was his way of life. Though it was too easy to just be like everyone else. 

“It is never that bad that you have to risk everything you ever worked for!” Camryn was crying again, hysterically at that. She had never seen this side of Jermaine and it was scaring the hell out of her. Camryn finally managed to grab the blunt and threw it as best she could. Jermaine sucked his teeth, storming back towards their apartment. 

“You foul!” Jermaine yelled as soon as they were both back inside. Unlike Camryn, Jermaine quickly remembered who he was and snapped back to reality. The hell was he doing smoking in the open like that? He was definitely out of his mind. And it was all of Camryn’s dumb ass fault. 

“Jermaine STOP!” Camryn yelled. Jermaine was going crazy, grabbing everything he could see and throwing it. The sounds of glass breaking and objects rebounding off of whatever surface he threw them on filled the apartment. “STOP!” She cried again, this time after he broken the biggest print out he had of them hung on the wall leading to their room. Her heart shattered as she watched Jermaine lash out. 

“WHY!?” He finally yelled back, taking deep breaths. He looked around at his mess, then at her. Jermaine eyes softened when he realized how scared she looked but it didn’t take away the anger he held inside. Camryn made him cry last night, he was on one. “YOU AINT HADDA LOVE ME!” He yelled at her, coming towards her. “I WOULDVE KEPT IT PLAYA. I WOULDVE STILL HAD YO BACK! YOU SELFISH AS FUCK! YOU RUINED THE BOTH OF US!” 

Camryn fell to the floor, crying loudly. Pieces of glass pierced her arm and she screamed in pain, mostly from the heartbreak she was experiencing. What about him? It was all because of him. Camryn didn’t know what their future held and she didn’t want to be hurt. Look where that landed her. 

Camryn stopped crying when she felt his familiar touch finally. Through all her screaming and crying she hadn’t even noticed Jermaine coming to grab her and pull her to the bathroom, cleaning the glass out of her arm and rubbing the wound. The alcohol stinged her skin and she winced at the pain. The two were silent as he cleaned her cuts, sterilized them and put bandages on them. When he was done he returned the first aid kit where it belonged and washed his hands. Jermaine leaned against the wall, staring at Camryn. 

“Is it over...” Camryn looked at Jermaine through teary eyes, yet again. “Is it over between us?” Jermaine closed the space between the two. Camryn inhaled his scent and her heart began to beat even faster than before. Thoughts of how much she truly missed him had been buried in the multitude of work she had to do all the time. He touched her arm again, bring her hand to his chest. He rested it on his heart, and met her low, solemn gaze. Camryn cried as she felt the strong, soft thuds of Jermaine’s heart pound against her palm resembling a baby in the womb kicking. 

“You feel that...?” Jermaine asked her, tilting her head up. Camryn was short and it was straining his neck. “Nobody else ever has...how you feel knowing that? Knowing you the first woman I really loved, like know I loved truly in my heart.” 

“I feel powerful...” Camryn mumbled almost inaudible to Jermaine. 

“So why you take your power away?” 

“I was scared.” 

“I'm scared everyday. Every single day. But I keep you in the dark because I gotta show up for the both of us. Some random woman shouldn’t scare what we been building over the years...Cam, look at me.”

Camryn met Jermaine's eyes, not knowing what would be next. He lowered his eyes to her lips before leaning down and placing a kiss on them. Cam immediately went to kiss him back, but he had already pulled away by the time. 

“I’m sorry we’ve hurt each other.” He said to her. “But instead I gotta mean what I say when I say I love you, its not just for me that I love you. With love comes allowing you to do whatever you feel is best and nothing should stop you from that. I will never change on you, I know where my heart is but you gotta dream to follow and when I wanted basketball, my career....I didn't let no woman get in the way of that. I can’t allow myself to get in the way of your career. I had discipline then, I got it now. What you just witnessed is me processing the pain, I rather you see it because I’ll have you know that whatever I do from this day forward is nothing to hurt you, but to simply just....move on. That was it right there, that was all the anger and hurt you're gonna get from me towards you. You got my number. I'm always here. But yes, it is...over.” Jermaine let her go and left a sobbing, bruised woman on his bathroom sink counter. The Camryn he fell in love with, he never would have had to say that to.

When Camryn heard the apartment door slam shut again, this time really knowing he was leaving for sure, she let out the loudest scream she could muster. So loud that Jermaine had heard it, sending dagger sharp like pains to his heart. Clutching his chest, Jermaine let out a breath and began crying as he got into his car turning it on and not caring where it stopped.

Zayn | *OPEN, but focused POV* |

Repeated, thudding knocks going off at Zayn’s apartment door caused her afternoon nap to come to an end. Sitting up on the couch, she sighed to herself and checked her phone that was lying underneath her as slept. It was 12:45 in the afternoon.

The knocks weren’t stopping so Zayn slid her freshly manicured toes into her bedroom shoes and trodded towards the door. On the other side was a red faced, teary eyed Jermaine. Zayn gasped, her heart quickened as she stepped to the side to let him in. Jermaine crossed the threshold and closed and locked the door behind him.

“What’s going on?” She wrapped her arms around his neck pulling him into her. Jermaine hugged her tightly, sobbing into her hair. She wasn’t as short as Camryn but she was definitely short compared to Jermaine. Jermaine body shook in her arms and Zayn couldn’t think of nothing to say or do. She never even seen her ex husband like this. Much less her father or brother. She has never had to comfort a man in her life before, maybe she didn’t deserve to be a wife after all. Shaking the thoughts from her head, Zayn pulled back and led Jermaine into her quaint kitchen. Never releasing his hand, she fixed him what she had come to known as his favorite ‘drink’ as well as reaching into her fridge to retrieve a Gatorade she purposely stocked her fridge just for him. Call her crazy but the two had spent almost a month together and Zayn enjoyed his company. She observed him and found herself grocery shopping for the both of them the past few weeks as she learned he loved to eat. But what he hadn’t learned yet is that Zayn loved to cook although Los never allowed her to due to their chef. She couldn’t wait for the opportunity to arise to show any man not just Jermaine, what she was capable of in the kitchen.

Jermaine wiped his eyes, his heart slowing as he observed what was happening before him. He couldn’t believe his eyes. Zayn wasn’t a drinker so to say, so to see her with a bottle of Henny as well as a few other liquor bottles in her cabinet shocked him. Then when he saw her grabbing a Gatorade out her refrigerator, his tears immediately stopped. She paid attention like that? He asked himself. Jermaine secretly noticed Zayn searching his face for her own answers and it made his heart warm for some reason. Did she really care? After all, he spent all morning driving around splurging but it still wasn’t enough. Once he was back in the neighborhood he was bawling and somehow he landed here despite not knowing what was even up between them anymore in the first place. He was starting to think he made the right decision and he smiled to himself at the thought.

“What?” Zayn quickly asked, desperately wanting to know what was going on with him. She hated to see him like this. Hell to be honest, she didn’t think Jermaine was really capable of deep emotions. Like yes she knew Camryn was his girlfriend and she knew he loved her, you could tell by the look in his eyes at even the slightest mention of her name, but he came off as a jokester to her. Zayn didn’t think Jermaine let things get that deep and bother him so she was surprised to see him so flustered.

“Thank you,” Jermaine said the smile still on his face. Zayn nodded and watched as he downed both drinks. She made him another drink and he downed that as well. “One more and then I’ll talk.” He claimed. Zayn raised a brow before pouring the drink. This time she made herself one as well. She wanted to be ready for whatever this was about to be. “Cam and I broke up—“ The alcohol caught in Zayn’s throat, and it began to burn as she held it to keep from choking. Jermaine sighed at her actions, watching her slowly swallow. She done caught feelings, he thought to himself. Damn.

“I thought you were already broken up?” Zayn asked Jermaine and he immediately sighed again. Jermaine looked down at the empty glass, contemplating another drink.

“Yeah well you know those break ups where you give each other time and space … it was one of those at first. We weren’t talking since I had my phone turned off anyway, no communication no nothing. So we never got to talk things through though I was under the impression we were broken up… ion do that back and forth toxic shit.”

“So?” Zayn urged him to continue.

“ So I go home two nights ago, she’s standing in the living room because I forgot to take the key back. We had a conversation, she didn’t even understand her words when she broke up with me almost two months ago.” Jermaine shook his head thinking of Camryn’s dumbfounded expressions hearing Jermaine reiterate her words. So that explains two, out of the four nights Jermaine has been missing, Zayn thought to herself as she listened to Jermaine vent. She didn’t get in a frenzy about them not talking because she had already gotten used to his social habits. Had she not, you’d think Zayn was some crazy side bitch the way she would have been at his neck after the first night of ghosting. 

“Anyway, I remind her that we are not together. She starts crying and wanting explanations. She said she’s really just hurt from us kissing..” Zayn eyes bugged out of her head. 

“She knows about that?” Zayn questioned Jermaine, wondering how and if he told her himself. 

“Yeah, “ He laughed. “She uh, knew since the beginning...we talked about it but it wasn’t enough. Nothing was enough. She wants to be the only one and she could have been. It’s almost like she pushed me to you because at the end of the day I need real genuine love. I gotta have it.” Zayn observed Jermaine’s realizing that he was being very honest in this moment. Jermaine was nothing like most guys. He didn’t care for groupies and ignored all women that addressed him as theirs when he was very positive he never met any of them.

“May I intervene as a recently divorced woman?” Zayn asked. Jermaine quickly nodded. 

“I wouldn't be here if I didn’t want to hear what you think.” He said back to her.  

“Well, first, I wanna ask...why couldn’t you have just cut me off? Or explain to me, that Camryn truly wishes we didn’t speak. Granted we spoke on it before but you didn’t tell me it was the drama  of your relationship!” Zayn face was hot with embarrassment. She could only imagine what Camryn thought of her now. Not that she truly cared, she just didn’t want to be known as the women she left her husband because of. 

“You not the drama, she wish it was so that she wouldn't have to account for her actions but she messed us up way before I even kissed you. Cam changed the minute she landed in Cali, you would have thought she had a nigga out there the way she ghosted me. I had my homeboy who is a busy ass rapper, damn near kick her door down for me every day just to make sure she was straight. It was draining me, then to have to go out and play? Nah you can keep that.” 

“Well....what’s next for you?”

“I think Imma go ahead and buy my house. I put my life on hold for Cam. Since she’s younger I didn’t want her to rush into anything with me. I allowed her to be free and young and as much as I have been ready to start my life and really be comfortable where I’m at, I stayed where she was comfortable.” 

“Have you looked anywhere? I know an agent. They helped me find this place.” Zayn had gotten closer now since Jermaine was calmer. Jermaine noticed over the last few weeks that Zayn was a more “up close and personal” person with whomever it be. She didn’t let her voice carry too far and she wanted whoever she was conversing with to know they had her full attention every time. 

“Nah not yet, I’ll start tomorrow or something. I hadn’t even thought of what Imma do but I know I wanna move as soon as I can possibly move. I don’t even want my furniture.” Jermaine laughed seriously. They could have everything in that apartment if that meant getting a true fresh start. “Enough of that though, you got me feeling better.. for real.”

“How? I didn’t even say or do anything...” Zayn looked at Jermaine dumbfounded. Jermaine chuckled at her response, standing up. As he stood over Zayn, he stretched, almost forgetting how close she had gotten to talk to him until he put his arms back down and looked down at. Zayn seemed to be looking at Jermaine in awe, or so that’s what he was thinking. He smirked at her as she stared at him, still not knowing what to do. Zayn was really trying to understand what she did to make him feel better. Was it the hug? Or just letting him talk? The drinks? She never comforted a man, so she wanted to know what worked for future purposes. 

Without even thinking, Zayn caressed Jermaine’s arm. She couldn’t tell if he was really feeling better or lying to get off of the subject. Jermaine looked at her hand and then back at her. He stepped closer to her, causing her breasts to come in contact with the lower half of his chest. 

“Why you looking at me like that..” He mumbled to her. 

“Are you lying about feeing better?” She asked him and he shook his head immediately. Jermaine honestly did feel better. That was the thing about him, growing up his mom always made room for communication so he didn’t have a problem communicating his feelings, accepting others feelings, nor discussing either. He had good conflict resolution skills. Or so he told himself that he did. 

“Nah, you beautiful as fuck. Just looking at you dried my tears...then, did you go shopping? For me?” Jermaine asked Zayn. Zayn gasped. There was no way she could deny it, so she nodded. He smiled a crooked smile at her, cupping her face in his big broad hands. Zayn felt so delicate in his touch. Her heart began to beat out of her chest as she registered that he was finally going in for what would be their second kiss. Yes, finally. Zayn had been dying for Jermaine to kiss her again. Now that she was divorced and very much single, she could act on how she really felt. Even though she wasn’t sure what she felt towards Jermaine all quite yet, she was itching to catch a thrill. Even if it was just for a moment and would leave her with regret. Zayn hadn’t been with nobody else but Los, she was ready! 

As Jermaine kissed her softly, as if she was going to break, she grabbed his face as well, hungrily kissing him back. Chuckling at her response, Jermaine quickly matched her pace of kissing, backing them up until she was against the fridge. Jermaine’s hands left her face and began to freely roam her small body. This caused Zayn to moan into his mouth. It had been months, hell years, since she had been intimate. His touch set her body on fire. 

Impatient, and without much thought to it, Zayn grabbed one of Jermaine’s hands and stuffed it into her shorts. The sudden action left Jermaine without room and he immediately dipped two fingers into Zayn to fix his balled up hand. Zayn let out a loud moan and Jermaine hissed, lowering his head into Zayn’s neck. Zayn was dripping wet, quickly forming a little sticky puddle on Jermaine’s fingers. 

“Damn, A’zayn...” Jermaine grumbled into her ear, nibbling gently on her lobe. The feeling and hearing him call her by her government name caused another gush of wetness to leak onto his fingers. She was desperate for him. Jermaine began to pump his fingers in and out of Zayn, dropping her shorts with his free hand. Zayn gasped and moaned, surprising the both of them as she began to meet his fingers halfway. She had never felt anything like this before. Her face felt hot with embarrassment as it began to dawn on her that her husband was depriving her from things she didn’t know existed.

Los hadn’t fingered, nor gave her oral sex since high school. Once he took her virginity, penetration was the only thing he gave her over the past years. She could only imagine what he was doing with these other women. Were they getting what she was getting from Jermaine this very moment? Hot tears began to roll down her face, and they fell faster when she felt Jermaine’s fingers slip out of her warm vagina. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked, grabbing her and pulling her into a hug. It was his turn to comfort her now. “Was I being too rough?”

“No,” Zayn shook her head, wiping her tears. Way to ruin the moment, she though to herself. “I just...I just...never felt like that before. I ...if that's how your fingers feel...my God. I see why she’s crazy.” Zayn pulled away from Jermaine and pulled her soaked shorts up. She was uncomfortable in the now cold, wet feeling, and her vagina felt gaped open though he only used his fingers. 

“You only ever been with Los?” Jermaine quickly realized what she was saying and it shocked him. No he didn’t see her as a ho, but he thought she at least tested the waters once or twice throughout her horrible marriage. Damn, she really was a good girl. Zayn nodded, turning to grab a water from the refrigerator. Jermaine watched in silence as she downed the water in damn near one gulp. Slow down. 

“I’m sorry,” He admitted. “I overstepped my boundaries again.” 

“It’s okay.” Zayn dryly chuckled, tossing the empty bottle into the trash beside her. “I wanted it.” She admitted after a brief silence. Leaving them both shocked. 

[virgil-says-things]

Fiona having a panic attack because the realisation that she no longer has money for the property tax was not how I wanted this to start

Fiona taking money from Frank and then flipping him off while he's sleeping. that. I wanna see more of that.

Lip asking for the money for the property tax so he can go pay it not knowing that Fiona doesn't have it on her.

MICKEY OMG. MICKEY'S BACK. the way he's jumping around those poles looks so fun - him beating the shit out of the other guy Ian was fucking and then immediately asking for sex once said kid runs off made me laugh tbh

oh shit Sheila's so tired she accidentally left the baby outside and took the trash back inside. it's okay her and Jody saved him just in time

'I'm Casper' omg me too!!

Mickey missed Ian <33 sure it was because of the sex and how he doesn't have to be the one doing the fucking with Ian but oh well

Kevin telling Veronica and Fiona to 'hobble over here' and them hopping on one foot as they follow 😭

Ian asking Mandy for relationship advice because he thinks Mickey hates him

Fiona asking Jimmy to look after the kids yet he's out stealing a car when he wasn't supposed to get in any trouble. 'got it covered!' shut up Jimmy 😭

what the fuck. Beto just. 'u betray me' and casually breaking one of Jimmy's fingers what the fuck. for context he caught Jimmy stealing the car but Nando (Estefania's dad) told Beto to keep an eye on Jimmy to prevent him from getting into any trouble. 'I take u to the hospital then we go get American Whoppers, huh?' wow 😭 he's just trying to help Fiona out with her money issue omg

did Frank just give drugs to Hymie (Sheila and Jody's baby) to get him to stop crying? AND admit to doing the same with Debbie??

Lip confronting Frank and Frank getting all pissed about it and Ian immediately running to Lip's side.

Debbie being the only one trying to stop the others from kicking Frank out, Frank accidentally breaking Debbie's project and then just going 'well, that was a piece of shit anyway.' I'm so fucking. what the fuck!!!

Lip and Ian stuck Frank in the bin 😭

can Edward. ask for anything less than a thousand dollars? that's. exactly what she needs for the property tax.

Mickey <3333

Mickey went into school to ask a kid for smth said kid owes him and Ian came along and said campus security is coming to prevent Mickey from getting busted, proceeded to think about Mandy asking if he gets 'that look in his eye' when he's with Ian (that look meaning said person likes u) and is now intensely staring at Mickey's eyes 😭 'what the fuck are u looking at?' (Mickey) 'nothing.' (Ian)

Jimmy making himself throw up in order to make it seem like he's sick so Fiona isn't upset about him not going to the party - surely just explaining what's going on would be easier.

Kevin's wife showed up to his and Veronica's house?? why is she there now??

HE'S CALLING CPS ON THEM??? FRANK IS CALLING CPS ON THE REST OF THEM. WHAT A DICK??? WHAT THE FUCK.

I get Lip's trying to make money but why have Carl drive the car I assume they stole and are gonna sell?

Frank can't keep giving drugs to this baby to stop him from crying

[negansbackdoorwhore]

Period

Author’s Note: I’m still having major writer’s block 😭 but I promise to get the requests and the next chapter of “How Did I End Up Here?” soon. Until then enjoy this little piece…

Warnings: mentions of blood, swearing, fluff

Currently you were crying from the pain of stupid cramps that lay in your uterus. Just a simple reminder of being a woman each month. And of course of all things, Negan wanted to see you but you refused. So for a few you were laying in your room buried under your sheets. Unfortunately, you underestimated the flow of your lining and got blood on your sheets. There was nothing else you could do except have to step out of your room to go wash them.

You looked to make sure no one was there but then once rounding the corner you saw Negan talking to a couple Saviors. You try to make a quick getaway but his eyes already spotted you. You watched him dismiss his men and catch up to you.

“Well well, if it isn’t Casper the friendly ghost. Seeing that you are very much alive is a relief.”

“It hasn’t been that long Negan.” You spit out and try to dismiss him but he was persistent.

“You catching attitude there baby? I was just trying to say hello, besides I miss you.”

“Fucking liar. You only miss sleeping with me.”

“While that’s not a lie, I do miss being next to you and talking to you and shit.”

“Just leave me alone.” You shout and storm into your room while slamming the door shut. Negan stood wide eyed at the door feeling taken back, he’s never seen you like that before. He decided to be smart and left you alone for a bit before returning later.

-

You groaned at the crushing feeling in your gut and winced trying to find a comfortable position in your bed. Unfortunately there’s no sheets to cover the mattress but you settled on a couple towels to lay on. Then you heard a knock and already suspected who it was.

“Baby. Open up.”

You didn’t answer and growled when he walked in anyway. You had no energy to deal with him today. So you buried your head in your pillow and could feel his weight on the bed.

“What’s wrong? You’re not acting like yourself.”

“You mean not like the submissive whore you want.”

“That’s not what I want. I want to know why you’re all upset.”

“Just go away.”

“Not until I find out what’s wrong.”

You felt slightly better as Negan settled his warm body next to yours. His body heat felt relieving on your lower back, he urged you to settle into his body and you hugged his waist.

“What happened to your sheets? Do you need me to get you more?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, I’ll get on it. Tell me what’s bothering you.”

“It’s stupid. Don’t worry about it.”

“No, tell me.”

He said in a bit of a threatening tone and squeezed your hip.

“I’m on my period.” You were afraid of his reaction. Would he stand up and leave in disgust or would he stay by your side? But of those two options, he started to laugh.

“What’s so funny!”

You sat up looking down at him laughing but tried to pull you to lay next to him.

“I’m sorry, I really don’t mean to laugh baby.”

“Then why are you asshole?”

“Because I thought I had forgotten something like your birthday or some shit.”

You wanted to say something but then groaned as the stupid cramps attacked your pelvis. You winced as you rested your head into his chest.

“What can I do to help baby?”

“I don’t know.” You snapped back and he brought one of his hands to massage your lower stomach. You sighed at how nice it felt, while the pain didn’t go away for a bit this was still nice.

“I’m sorry you’re in pain. I wish I could do more. But now I get why you’re acting like this. If you told me, I wouldn’t have been like an asshole.”

You didn’t say anything as he stood back up and frowned feeling him leave your side.

“Alright, let’s go baby.”

You didn’t expect his actions as he fully picked you up from the bed into his arms.

“Wait. What about my sheets and well the blood?”

“It’s okay. I’ll take care of it. Just let me worry about that.” You held onto Negan’s neck as he refused to put you down and he carried you to his room.

“You didn’t have to carry me.”

“It’s fine baby. Just let me take care of you, I know this time of month is the fucking pits.”

You blushed at how sweet he was being and gently placing you in bed. Your hormones were kicking in again and you felt clingy when he was about to leave the room.

“Wait, don’t leave yet.”

“It’s okay baby, I promise I’ll be right back. I just need to grab a few things. Okay?”

“Okay.”

He left you to lay in his bed and you sat there feeling sore. As you got in a nice position, Negan came back into the room.

“Alright. Here’s a nice little care package baby.” You turned to him and saw he had a basket of various goodies.

“Okay, here is some pain pills. I know shit has been hard to obtain lately. I got some tampons and pads, then a very important thing here chocolate.”

“Wow, you’re so amazing! Thank you.”

“It’s no problem baby. It’s my job to take care of my wife, now what do you want to do?”

“Do you think I could get some chocolates and have you cuddle with me?”

“Of course.”

You watched him remove his leather jacket and kick off his boots. You settled into his bed and he brought the covers over his body. You snuggled next to him and he slowly fed you some sweets.

“This is perfect. I’m sorry about earlier today.”

“It’s no worries. I get how difficult this shit is, you know I have a good remedy for some of those cramps.”

“What is it? Some stronger medicine?”

“Nope, it’s tucked away in my pants. I’m not opposed to get my red wings baby.”

“You’re gross.” You laughed as he kissed your forehead. He took good care of you for the next few days and made sure you were always happy. How can he manage to always make you smile?

[thegreatestjournalistofalltime]

Me, watching NBC Hannibal S1 the first time: (LOATHES Freddie and Chilton)

Me, at some point during S2: “Fuck you! These awful people are mine and I love them!”

[inkmonster21]

Best Buds

Fezco x Reader

Euphoria Universe x Reader

1. Your Local Drug Dealer

2. Behind the Store Blaze

3. Friends

~

I play with the strings of my jeans as Fez and I sit outside the store in the shade. "Are you going to the party tonight? Fez shrugs, "I'm not into it but it's good for business. You going?" "Maddy asked me to. I was debating." Rue rolls up with a smile. He stops right in front of us with a smile. "Good day." I jump up hugging her. I like Rue, and I hope the best for her. Plus not to mention she almost died at the beginning of summer.

"Yo, There's some new, like edgy transgirl in town." Fez starts. I toss my hands up in excitement, "Yes! Oh man she's so cool looking!" Fez adds on, "Yeah, she came in yesterday looking all Sailor Moon and shit and I thought, she looks like someone Rue would get along with." Rue nods with a small smile, but she cuts to her point quickly, "Is Ash in the back?" Fez is taken back.

She just got out of rehab.

Fez furrows his brows, "Are you for real?" Rue pushed a smile giving a short laugh. "Come on, you think cause I went to rehab I stayed clean?" I frown watching as she walks into the store.

"She's breaking my heart man." Fez rubs his head in frustration. "I know, baby."

Rue exits the store with her goodies just as Nate Jacobs pulls up. Fez stands from his chair, meeting Nate halfway. Nate looks past Fez taking notice of my position in the shade. "Sup, (Y/n). Tell your mom I said hello." I wave my hand up without a word. Fez comes back taking his seat beside me. He looks at me with narrowed eyes. "You gonna tell your momma he said hello?" I scoff at the question, "Fuck no." Fez shakes his head, "Nah, Nah, shawty, it's... hell the fuck no."

I turn to Fez kissing his cheek quickly before standing. The sun heats my skin the moment it touches. "I have to go. Maddy has summoned me." Fez waves me off, "You go on, ma. I'll catch you later."

~

I sit on Maddy's bed picking out options for the party at McKay's house. "Go with the green one!" Kat sparkles as she holds it to my body. "Fuck, I wish I had your boobs." She says with a sad smile. "Shut the fuck up. I wish my ass was as nice as yours!" I reach around her and playfully pinch her butt.

"Plan this year is to get (y/n) a fucking boyfriend." I roll my eyes at Kat's plan. "I don't think so." "Why? You're always alone. You need some romance." I shrug, Fez and I have a great relationship. No one asked what we were so we never even established a definition. Am I his girlfriend? Just a friend he sleeps with? Fuck, who knows... "When I want to have a public relationship I will." Maddy rolls her eyes as she brushes on her eyeshadow. "You need some dick." "Just because I'm not in a relationship doesn't mean I don't have a dick to sit on, Mads." She turns back, mouth gaping. "No way. You have a hookup? You? Christian Mary's Daughter." I nod with class. "I do." BB smirks taking a long drag of her vape, "Who is it?" "It's f... a friend." The girls groan at the mystery. "Is he older?" I shrug, slipping my clothes off and pushing the tight dress over my head. "He is. Has his own house, business, and everything." Maddy returns to her makeup with a proud glitter in her eyes.

On the way to the party, we pull into the store where Rue happens to be walking. Maddy gasps as she notices. "Is that...?" I nod from the back seat, "That's Ruerue." Kat smiles at the acquaintance, "Didn't Rue, like, die?" BB gasps, "Oh, my God, I hate ghosts." I laugh against her shoulder taking a shot from the bottle in the back seat. Kat sticks her head out the window, "Yo, Casper! You want a ride?" Rue walks over to the car looking inside before accepting, "Why, thank you."

The party was rumbling. The lights blinded the crowd of drunk young adults. Maddy grabs my arm, "let's fucking dance." She pulls me to the middle of the floor. That's when I see Fez sitting on the couch with some kids smoking. He looks out of the corner of his eye, noticing me. I wave my fingers at him, it being such a subtle movement, it goes unnoticed by everyone. Maddy sways with me on the floor. It's not long before Nate is making out with some girl causing Maddy to leave my side and start dancing with another guy making sure to look at Nate the entire time. I roll my eyes walking over to the couch. Only a few feet away I get caught by Landon. "Hey, pretty girl!" He spins me around before releasing me back to my destination.

I laugh as I take the seat on the arm of the couch, Fez looks up nodding to me with a smirk. "This looks good on you." I pull the collar of his sweater, knowing I'm the one who got it for him. "You look hot." He passes me the blunt. "I like this color on you, ma." Fez pulls at the hem of the dress, it snaps against my thigh like a rubber band.

I cross my legs, allowing his eyes to travel between them the second they separate. "Is Ash running the store tonight?" Fez nods, "Yeah, he's holding it down." His eyes never detached from my legs.

"You wanna dance?" He shakes his head. Fez was never one to draw attention to himself. He liked his space. So brushing up against me wasn't his cup of tea when his shoulders were brushing the surrounding peers. "Nah." I protest, determined to have a good night with my... my friend. "Come on." I stand up, moving in front of him. I grab his wrist and pull at him to get up. He resists and sits back down. "(Y/n). Stop, you know I got business to do." Fez sits down with a firm shake of his head.

I cross my arms narrowing my eyes. "One dance wouldn't distract you from your business." Fez shakes his head, now avoiding eye contact. I lean in coming closer to his face, our lips 5 inches apart. His blue eyes stare just past my frame. "Seriously? What's up with you?" Fez moves me over to the side, "go on and do somethin, girl. I'm busy. Ima catch you later tonight." Fez lights his blunt ushering me away.

I turn on my heels in furry. What the fuck... I pass Rue as I enter the kitchen. "Yo, you seen Fez?" I slam the red cup down pouring the liquor in to fill to the rim. "Fuck, Fez." Rue widens her eyes, "what?" I tip the cup into my mouth forcing myself to devour half. "He's an ass." "What the fuck happened?" Rue places her hands on my shoulders, "did y'all break up?" "What? We're not even... we're friends." Rue furrows her brows, "No fucking way." "Did you think-" "I can't believe y'all aren't! You for real?" "We... yeah. We're just friends. No chance of shit like that." I drag myself outside to the pool taking a seat on a sunbed. Maddy currently making out with some dude in the pool.

Good for her.

~

I shake my head as she stomps away. Man, why'd she have to do that shit? I wasn't trying to be an ass. I've been on the lookout for Rue! Girl owes me $120. Plus fuckin Landon Kincaid spinning my girl around didn't put me in the best state of mind.

I walk out on the back patio seeing Rue chillin on the couch. I take a seat next to her. "Rue. What the fuck?" She looks around confused, "What? What, what, what, what?" "Come on now, bruh. You owe me 120 bucks." Rue shakes her head, "My bad, man, I forgot." I shrug taking the seat next to her. The problem left my mind quickly.

"Shit, you know I ain't trippin'. Well, to be honest with you, your whole drug shit got me feeling kind of uneasy. Rue hits my shoulder, "Come on, don't go soft on me, Fez." "No, I'm not. It's just that... I like you. And I missed you, bruh. Like... That shit at the beginning of summer had me scared as fuck. I've seen a lot of people die. I don't know what type of fucked up shit you got going inside your head. I don't know how to help, but I could tell you one thing: this drug shit, it's not the answer."

"You know, I remember when I was eleven years old... It was a couple months after my dad got diagnosed, and we got the results back from the prognosis. And it was really good. It was like, 80/20. And we decided to celebrate, so... we like ordered a bunch of Chinese food. I remember that night, I was laying between my parents in bed, and... all of a sudden I couldn't breathe. It was like there was no more air left in the world. And I was gasping, and I was panicking. And they called the ambulance and they thought it was like... an allergic reaction or some shit. And then when I got to the hospital, they gave me liquid Valium. Yeah. To calm me down. And when it hit me, I thought... This is it. This is the feeling I have been searching for my entire life, for as long as I could remember. Because suddenly... ...the world went quiet. And I felt safe, in my own head. Two years later, he was gone. Panic attacks stayed. And I found a way to live, so... Will it eventually kill me? Maybe. Fuck, maybe not. I don't know. You still gonna be my dealer, Fez?"

I sit in silence allowing her to finish, I shake my head not fully comprehending the importance. I'm too distracted. "You a fucking trip, bruh. I'm too high to be having this conversation right now." "Yeah, man. Me, too. Me fucking too." "Aye, you seen (y/n)?" She nods with her head tossed back. "Yeah man. She's pissed at you." "Aw for real?" Rue turns to me, "yeah. What the fuck did you do? I thought you two were good." "We are good. I was looking for you. She's trippin." "So, you're still together?" I shoot my eyes into hers. "We ain't never been together like that." My voice faltered. Could it be the depression of being in love with someone who doesn't love you back? Maybe.

My grandma said to never fall in love. That's the one thing you can never trust. But (y/n) just looks at me with her (e/c) eyes. She instantly calms every instinct in my body. She allows me to just chill without worry. We fuck, and it's so damn good. We don't talk about what we are. Never did. She just started coming around more and I never objected.

~

Maddy sloshes in the water with the older boy. Cameras out and Nate towering over the two of them. "Yeah, that's real classy, you fucking whore." Maddy looks up from her current position, glaring into Nate's eyes. "Suck my dick."

That did it. Nate stormed off driving right into the kitchen where I sat on the counter with my cup. Nate flips the cup onto my frame. The alcohol soaked me from head to toe. He grabs my ankle and pulls me off the counter. I stumbled into a girl who caught me. "Get the fuck out of here! Get the fuck out of the kitchen! Fuck! Get out of here! Get the fuck out of here!"

"You okay?" I look up to my savior seeing the sailor moon girl. "I'm good." Nate separates the girl and I. "Who the fuck are you?"

"I'm Jules. I'm a friend of..."

"You're a friend of... A friend of whose? 'Cause you're not my fucking friend. Who the fuck are you friends with, Jules? Hmm? Do you guys know who the fuck this is? Does anybody know who this is? Does anybody know who the fuck Jules is? Anyone at all." Nate directs his vision toward me, "You, (y/n), do you know who the fuck Jules is?" "She's... I've met her." Nate rolls his eyes.

Jules holds her hand up in defense, "I'm just minding my own business. I'm not trying to start anything."

"Well, no, you're not. Nobody that looks like you is minding their own fuckin' business. I know what you are. Yeah. Yeah, I see you. So what do you want? You want some, some fucking attention? 'Cause I'll give you some fucking attention. Yo, is anybody here friends with Jules? Anyone? Does anybody know who the fuck this bitch is? Somebody better speak up, or this bitch is gonna get fucked up." In a second Jules draws a kitchen knife pointing it at Nate. "You wanna fucking hurt me? Back the fuck up! What the fuck is your problem?" Nate cowers in fear, "Put the fucking knife down, okay. It was a joke. It was a-"

I hand on my shoulder pulls me away from the tension. Fez's hand lays on the small of my back as he leads us through the crowd. He ushers us to an unoccupied bathroom. Fez pulls one of the towels from the rack. He walks me backward, having me leaning against the sink. He looks over the dress, the fabric smelling of pure Bacardi. "Ya got real wet, ma." He presses the towel to my chest wiping the liquid dry. "You gonna need a shower before you get into bed." I stare straight ahead, unfazed by his attempts.

Fez leans back on the opposing wall, "the fuck is up? You freaked on me the second you got here. Now you ain't speaking to me." I snatch the towel from his hands continuing to dry myself in silence. I'm so wet best way to save the night is to ring my dress out. I look to Fez and motion to the door. "It's already locked." "No. I'm going to have to ring my dress out. You should go." "Why?"

I huff turning to look at myself in the mirror. This entire dynamic with him is fucked! Where the hell do I stand? Can I flit with him in public? Do I keep bragging on the nameless dick I ride on? Like come on, give a girl something. I lower one of my straps, "because Fez, we're friends. You shouldn't see me naked." In this moment, the several times he had seen me naked in past didn't count." Fez looks at me with a dumbfounded expression. "You fucking for real?" "You said it yourself. We're friends." "When the fuck did I say that?" "Well we never fucking talk about it!" "Bout what, baby?" "THAT! You don't call anyone else baby!" Fez shrugs with a simple expression, "cause you my baby."

I press my hand to my eyes in frustration. Fez grabs my wrist pulling me to him, our frames against the others. "Tell me what you want, baby. You know ima do my best." I rest my hands on his shoulders. He kisses my forehead several times and I rest my drunken head. "I want you Fez." "You got me." I shake my head, "I wanna tell people, dude! I want them the know!" Fez tilts his head, "you want everyone in this place to know you my

Girl? Huh?" Fez backs me up to the sink, his hands teavleing to my behind. "You wanna be my girl, baby?" I kiss up his cheek drawing to his ear. "I want everyone to know I belong to you."

Fez doesn't waste a second to flip me around, my ass pressed to his crotch. He wraps his arms around my body. His hand settled under my chin. He takes hold of it and maneuvers my head to stare directly at the two of us in the mirror.

I wanted Fezco more than anything. I wanted to be with him to the fullest extent. Little did I understand the dangers he could lead me into. I refused to care as he pressed his dick into my behind. He hiked up my dress, pushing my back down. Fez runs his hands over my bare ass. The thin string of my thong snaps against my skin as Fez slowly toys with me. He pecks my bare shoulder, working his way to my ear. "Let's me take you home, ma."

[pokelolmc]

I’m Not Scared of You Anymore

(cheesy title, I know...I’m in a rush wrapping it up right now and I couldn’t think of anything...)

Happy Holiday Truce to @tidehopper! I was chosen as your secret santa!

I did a fic based your first prompt: “an angsty identity reveal (either to Maddie and Jack or Dash)”. I went with Dash.

(I did end up writing the class and bathroom scenes during the middle of the night last minute, though, because the idea of how I originally wanted them to go completely got away from me...so if they sound a bit weird in comparison to everyone else, I apologise!)

(Also, no link, sadly: I don’t have an AO3 Account...RIP me) If you have trouble with read more’s (like I do with the IOS App), I’m so sorry...*shrugs* you could always try on PC...?

(warning about the bullying: cartoonish teenage nastiness because I tried to rewrite the scene slightly sleep-deprived and forgot what I wanted to write)

______________________________________

...needless to say, Dash wasn’t having a good morning. He hopped out of the car with a quick “love you” to his mum on the way out—or, more accurately, exactly before the way out (after all, he didn’t need any of the kids at school knowing he was a mummy’s boy, did he?)—but the frustration channelled into the beefy hands that clenched hard around the strap of his shoulder bag and tore it out of the foot area in front of the seat. As he set foot on the bristly lawn of Casper High, a familiar voice called his name and a matching letterman jacket hurried towards him through the colourful throng of students. Kwan sidled up next to him on the stroll into the school building, straight-faced and absorbing his anger like a wall of sponge.

The English exam results came out on the weekend via email.

Much to Dash’s fuming disappointment, he got to read a line of straight D’s.

Fuck! He’d have a lot to answer for with Lancer after school today.

“It’s alright,” his best friend reassured gently (though, he internally squirmed with the knowledge that Kwan probably maintained his straight B—literature always seemed to be his strong suit, out of anything not sports-related), “We’ve got an assignment coming up next, so no need to cram. Did you go through that poetry book from the start of the semester?”

“No.” Dash grumbled; honestly, what did he expect? Apparently exactly that, if his next response indicated anything.

“We were supposed to go over the first chapter on the weekend, but we can come do it over at your place after school, if you want—” he offered, “what Lancer doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

“Nah, I don’t want to look at another piece of poetry for the next fucking month! All I feel like doing right now is blowing off some steam!” his grit teeth transitioned into a smirk—

“Want to go teach a lesson to the first little shit we come across? One of the nerdy brats, probably one of the teacher’s pets Lancer handed an A to.” He suggested.

Kwan hesitated for a second, then nodded.

They made their way down the opening corridor, Dash trailing at the front pounding his fist and Kwan trailing behind like a shadow. The sea of children on either side parted out of their way like the Red Sea, squishing up against their lockers in a vain effort to minimise themselves. The star of the football team darted his eyes from one end of the hall to another—half of the nerds were hurriedly shutting their lockers and hobbling out of the corridor, books in tow. Dash growled in disappointment…

As they walked further down the hallway, a conspicuous goth getup, tacky turtleneck sweater and red-and-white t-shirt caught his eye.

…Fenton!

A small grin spread across his lips.

It wasn’t one of Lancer’s A-grade pets, but it’d do just fine.

Fenton was listening avidly to that geek, Foley, the latter’s voice groaning about something until the pitch soared through a glass roof and his scratched vocal cords screeched. He received a punch in the shoulder from Manson—playful or reprimanding, Dash didn’t care—eliciting a small chuckle from the other boy. Manson returned him the same service and the boy in question lightly groaned.

“Hey, Fenturd! The fuck are you doing laughing around after the English grades came out?! Didn’t you tank rock bottom?!”

…Silence.

…

What?!

He charged up to the group full-force and opened his mouth to yell again— but the tell-tale mop of black hair finally stopped talking to the hushed techno geek and turned around to face Dash.

His feet stopped of their own accord.

Typically-skittish sky-blue eyes glanced over him blankly, straining for alertness above dark circles and mouth having had eradicated its old programming of a snarky grimace until only a dead line remained. Seconds dragged their exhausted feet across the no-man’s land between them, provoking no more than the slight jump of Fenton’s eyelids upwards.

…

“The fuck is wrong with you today, Fenturd?! You going deaf or something?! I come to all this trouble and you can’t even tell when someone’s talking to you?!”

Instead of rolling upwards in scathing snark, those ebony eyebrows knitted into a foreign tapestry—gaze narrowed with a surreal contemplation, a despondent sheen on the surface, yet a thin ice lurking beneath pinned him to the spot like a bug in a museum exhibit, causing his already restless insides to dance. The thin shield fell, and they sagged into something ragged and tired.

“…what do you want?”

The drive in Dash’s muscles disappeared, energy dropping eerily to lukewarm…then a light cold. His eyes lost their footing on Fenton’s face, darting from one feature to another like a hot potato, as if dodging every lock of hair and square inch of freckles with all the reflex of yanking his hand back from a molten iron rod.

An uncanny tar surfaced in his squirming stomach.

Was…was something about him…different?

“Thought your nutcase parents would’ve meant you could at least half-ass school! Guess you’ve even failed their crazy standards!”

…not a twitch.

“Excuse me?! Someone’s fucking TALKING to you!”

Finally, Fenton’s teeth bit his lip…right before they clenched into his sharp speech, voice barely above a careful mumble. His tone dragged, laced with hints of desperation.

“…You really got nothing better to do to vent your shit? …Nothing more important to do with your life?”

His hand headed to grab Fenton by the collar, but paused.

His insides decided to burn their pent-up energy by climbing up the wall of his abdomen, and his brain fell into a pit of molasses. His mouth begged its silent counterpart for an answer…and turned face-to-face with a looming void. A thought, a feeling…transient words teased him from a distance, but a fog swept them away into the darkness.

“…you really think I have time for fucking mind games?!”

Fenton’s features twisted into stone.

Dash’s heart jumped up his throat. His brain tumbled backwards into the viscous muck. The pressure of the linoleum never left the distant image of his shoes, yet the ground plummeted out cruelly from beneath him.  

Something in those used-to-be-mousy sapphires glinted uncannily, burying brutally into the depths of Dash’s chest like an abrasive icicle—grating against his ribs and chilling him to his core.

I’m not scared of you anymore.

…and Dash couldn’t even explain why. Every attempt to wrack his drowning brain for any modicum of a reason—a cause, an explanation, a sign—only sent it into a disorienting spin beneath the surface. Memories flooded through him until his head hurt, and he grasped desperately for anything—a telltale episode of defiance here, a snarky remark or comeback there, an explanation for such a sudden display of power and assertion from a spindly, cowardly nerd…Nothing.

A primal instinct in his brain desperately hijacked the autopilot—his teeth clenched around a muttered insult, and his sneakers turned away and walked on paper-thin air—much to the terrified protests of his internal gyroscope—to his first class.

By the time he made it to the classroom, reality had returned to him, but a fog of numb bewilderment had taken up residence in its absence. His brain half-ejected from the droning greeting given by Lancer as his plump form strolled into the room, a stack of folders under his arm. “…Good morning, everyone. I hope you’re all satisfied with your results on the last exam. Unfortunately, we have to move a tad faster than expected, so I hope you all read the chapter I assigned last week; I have worksheets for you all to fill out about the first four poems—”

The man’s drone faded out as questions nagged the back of Dash’s swimming mind like an unbearable itch, begging to be scratched.

…What the fuck was that earlier?!

His head spun as it traced the minutes backwards—thoughts and images that had been right in front of him slipped through his fingers, transient and dubiously artificial.

Had he…imagined that?

This Fenton, he was talking about—whiny, weak, gangly Fenton. The meek son of Amity Park’s most crazed (albeit semi-useful) ghost hunters. . The hunched, mumbling, meek nerd whose only fight when Dash shoved him in his locker was a snarky quip—lazy, laid-back, black-sheep-of-the-already-weird-Fenton-family-Fenton, who didn’t have the guts (or the height) to look anyone higher up than him in the high school food chain in the eye.

…who was, somehow, the same Fenton who blatantly deafened all of Dash’s normal morning jeers and calls, pretending as if he didn’t exist….a Fenton who detached from all that was familiar, stared Dash coldly in the eye and lanced directly into his core…like gazing into the face of an alien in a human guise.

...but that was stupid! He HAD to have been seeing things!

His swimming brain refused to deliver him the image of those eyes in full vivid detail, but the image that plagued Dash on rapid repeat burned into his mind enough—the blue expanses had frozen over, an enigma lurking beneath the depths of those ice caps that seemed sharp enough to impale someone, but clouded over its barb with something…jaded. Dark circles pulling on the skin underneath notwithstanding, the eyes themselves seemed to strain with a struggle for effort uncanny for their youth, as if some creature unseen had worn their owner to exhaustion…

…yet alert enough to snap straight up at the presence of footsteps and impale another’s soul.

…I. Was. Seeing. Things! End. Of. Story!

There was no way…

There was no way, after every mundane morning he’d stared down that face, that Fenton’s eyes would all of a sudden burrow their way into his insides.

(No, what the fuck was the thinking about?! Hurt, there’s no way that hurt! He was supposed to be impenetrable!)

He sighed deeply and his own gaze sank to the empty worksheet he hadn’t bothered to read any of the material for; he couldn’t give a fuck, he just wanted the clock to tick faster…

As Lancer’s longwinded monologue faded from attention, a muddy confusion and bubbled up the back of his throat, creeping insidiously up the ladder of his spine to the base of his skull…

The hairs on the edge of his hairline prickled with a deep shudder, as if an invisible scrutiniser’s gaze crawled painstakingly up his back…

A jolt struck him from head to toe and the room fell frigid.

His mind catapulted into a pit of molasses, desperately wading through confusing muck as his gaze whipped to the others around him. To his right, he met the indifferent, neutral visage of Paulina and hunched focus of Star, eyes glued to her work. To his left, Kwan slouched in his chair, his pencil scratching against paper aimlessly while his eyes traced the careless dawdle of a fly across the room.

A profound shiver prickled his scalp and his eyes, as if magnetised, felt drawn behind him, muscles straining and taking his entire head with them. Following some indecipherable urge from his uneasy gut, his gazed fell to a halt on the slender frame planted in the seat next to Manson.

Small shoulders hunched over paper, gaze staring into nothingness… His mind indignantly reprimanded the insidious feeling that rocked the sea in his stomach— this was just Fenton; gangly, cowardly little Fenton…

…then the head looked up.

Sapphires, confusion slightly marring a look of indifference, locked into his eyes— iris for iris, pupil for pupil…

Dash’s blood ran cold.

His lungs froze mid-breath and the chilling plague in the air sunk deep into his bones. The enigma in those jaded oceans rose out with sickly, hooked tendrils and reeled his gaze in until he couldn’t tear away from their murky depths—sending his uneasy intestines into writhing knots. The image of the world around him collapsed into a blurry, amalgamation of swirled paint—a hazy afterthought—behind the sharp stare pinning him through. The blackness of the pupils bore directly into his, a looming void of something foreign and inhuman—

“Mr. Baxter?”

The teacher’s voice, once a source of nigh-intolerable boredom, became a well-welcomed hammer to the walls closing in on him.

He finally dragged his eyes away with a hiss and whipped his head back to his work.

“Yes sir?”

“I assume you’re not trying to copy Mr. Fenton’s work.”

“No, of course not.” He reassured quickly. His restless gaze, desperately looking for somewhere to rest, took refuge zeroing in on the corner of his desk.

Lancer’s callout seemed to put the rest of the class on alert, and all irrelevant chatter miraculously ceased. Above the scratching of pencils, the tick of the clock and the lone ramble of the overweight teacher about literary analysis, the room was blanketed in a fog of dead silence.

…yet the invisible needles of another pair of eyes never relented their attempts to drill their way through his back, and his guts clawed up his inner walls frantically in a plea for escape. His focus intently zoomed in on the clock in a futile attempt to make the lesson just end.

I need to get out!

Every minute that passed seem to stretch into eternity, in a twisted form of torture the universe seemed to have concocted specifically for him. His thoughts yanked between that one head in the row behind him and the ticking hands at the front of the room in an intense tug of war until the tear down the middle was burning and ready to snap him in half. The voice inside his head, faded as reality slowly shrivelled around him, only deigned to scream louder.

Get out! Get as far away from him as possible! I don’t care how as long as he’s not here anymore GET OUT!

“…Sir, can I use the bathroom…? It’s urgent.”

With a sceptical eye sparing a glance in his direction, Mr. Lancer returned to the blackboard.

“…very well, but arrive back before the lesson ends. This information is paramount to your next assignment.”

Dash couldn’t care less, and let his mouth slip out an obligatory “sure” for confirmation before shoving his chair out and turning to the door.

The world still remained in slow motion, even as his feet paced briskly out of the room. He zeroed in on the exit, letting tunnel vision block out all of the whispers of his classmates.

His stomach churned once more as he hurried himself out of the room…the surreal lance of Fenton’s gaze still burying into his back all the while.

…

A sigh of deep relief pressed out of his lungs as soon as he turned the corner outside his classroom. Now, there were shields of solid wood and drywall between him and Fenton’s haunted eyes. He made his way down the corridor and pressed open the door to the boy’s bathroom with his shoulder, bursting into a dead collection of empty cubicles.

…no one’s here, great.

Yanking the door of a cubicle at the back of the room shut behind him, he sat on the bowl and steeled his breath to calm his somersaulting insides. Knuckles clenched onto the legs of his jeans until they turned white.

…There was no way he was making it up again. That had to be real—

NO! No, don’t think about that! It doesn’t matter, I don’t fucking care! He’s gone…that’s all that matters!

His mind, still dizzying from the encounter inside, threw all questions out of his mind with a burning desperation. He didn’t care what, why or how. All he cared about was that, now, he was out.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, but a deep, primitive instinct knew he didn’t want to leave. Compared to the eerie silence of the crowded classroom, the hollow absence of sound on the warm beige tiles felt like a sweet relief. The yellow glow of the sun streamed in through the windows above the cubicles, spraying the room with a gentle warmth that melted the frost of his numb skin. An occasional, soft plop echoed in a semi-regular rhythm from a dripping tap and rolled into one of the sinks on the other side of the cubicle door. Gradually, as minutes wore on, his mind climbed back into his body, and corrupted time began to return to normal.

The well-needed silence broke with the echoing thud of the door, and a rapid-fire blast of seething mutters in a familiar voice. Another chill only Dash could feel spread through the air.

Dash’s mind exploded into another panic.

…Oh shit, come on! Use a different bathroom!

The muffled speech increased rapidly in volume, but hardly in clarity—syllables came out muddled in the hissing of half-open lips and clenched teeth. His body stiffened on hair-raised trigger instinct.

Scarlet sneakers slapped across tiles; every step seemed to cause the soft colours to deaden in his vision like the dreaded eyes he had seen in the classroom, as if sucking the very life out of the room. Seconds slowed to an agonising crawl as the footsteps crescendo’d; a pair of slacks-covered legs made their way past their first stall, then the second... Dash’s pulse began to escalate, fields of goosebumps prickling up his arms he raised his legs off the floor and he desperately crossed his fingers…

The idea of trying to start a conversation with someone using the restroom seemed farfetched and ludicrous, even for a freak…but this mind emptied all of its thoughts into a void at the idea of having to deal with a confrontation, and he clung like a dying man to the rays of salvation above the stall to keep the insidious chill at bay.

The steps reached the third stall, then the fourth…

Just leave…!

…

The muttering stopped.

“Hey…! Who’s in here?”

Dash’s heart dropped. Fuck his luck.

He pressed his lips together and clamped his hand over his mouth to muffle his forceful breaths. He stared back up at sunlight in the window.

…Finally, the flash of red stopped in the gap under Dash’s door.

A torturous, dense fog of silence befell the bathroom, ruining the atmosphere that he had so frantically craved. There was no way he didn’t know who was in here—this was the closest bathroom to their English classroom, and he’d seen Dash leave.

…After a lingering pause and a muffled curse, the sneakers pivoted back two stalls over and Dash heard the tell-tale click of a stall lock. A last-minute plan flashed into Dash’s mind.

This is it!

His muscles shot to attention. His stomach flipped as he precariously carried out the operation of silently returning his feet to the floor. He leaned an ear to the side of his stall, keenly scanning for the sound of any ruffling clothes or flipping of the toilet seat. The agonising silence at him like a wave of decay after seconds of nothing crawled by. He stood up, pressed the flush and unlocked his stall.

(”Weak bladder”, his ass, a snarky voice in his head piped up faintly after a shaky sigh, what the hell does he even do in here?!)

Trying to keep his alert, rushing legs on slower reins, he strolled up to the basin and washed his hands briskly for a few seconds. He ignored the dryer and paper towel in favour of quick flick, and shuffled hurriedly to the door…

—the dreaded click, and a thud.

“I’d really stay here, if I were you.”

Dash’s whole body went stiff as a board. That dreaded chill stripped him of his last vestiges of warmth as it drilled into his shoulders.  His eyes darted to the red trim of that t-shirt to compromise with his neck’s desperate beg not to turn around. He paused briefly to compose his shaky voice, and growled.

“What the hell do you think you know?”

In the top of his vision, he caught Fenton’s mouth curling downwards into a firm frown.

“…look, don’t ask why I know—you probably don’t give a crap…”

His vision stumbled and wandered too far up. He shivered. Those orbs cut through him with a chilling, grim finality that caused his internal organs to plummet—and his frantic hand to make a beeline for the door handle.

“...but it’s a lot safer here—trust me, whatever the hell you do, don’t go outside.”

“SHUT UP! I—”

Unluckily, Dash didn’t get a choice.

The door to the bathroom blasted abruptly back into his face; an overwhelming rush of air sent him sailing backwards and skidding his ass across the tile, mixed with the muffled sound of distant screams; Fenton, with his feather-light constitution, was sent slamming into the back wall.

A shock of adrenaline coursed through Dash’s muscles like lightning, and by the time he’d stumbled to trembling feet, Fenton had already leaped out of the ajar doorway sprayed with battered wood and plaster. Despite his gut’s familiar call of what it already was, and its desperate pleas to stay back, the foolish curiosity in the back of his brain urged him to poke his head out into the corridor.

The thundering blast had blown through the side of the building, tearing through a gaping expanse of drywall at the end of the corridor towards the outside end of the building—where there weren’t any classrooms. The air swirled with choking swarms of plaster dust, and tainted whitish sunlight from the outside world flooded in through a hole large enough to fit a pickup truck.

A sickly green, misshapen skull peered into the impromptu entrance—bizarrely, vaguely protruding outwards with the snout of a canine, but twisted at its tip like a raptor’s beak. Four beady, dark, soulless eyes zeroed in on the numerous young forms, stringy ectoplasmic sinew stretching across its bony jaw like glowing elastic as it opened into a raucous screech—more of a roar, actually…predatory and triumphant.

Dash’s entire world paused.

The semi-lifeless hallway burst into panicked frenzy; students who poked their heads out of their classrooms let loose bloodcurdling screams and the corridor lingerers scattered in blind terror. Through ears stuffed with cotton buds, a distant echo of the voice from the bathroom called his name, and Dash’s chest froze over.

He wasn’t sure which he was scared of anymore.

His head whipped towards the dreaded classmate, and the alien firmness in Fenton’s eyes sent his heart plummeting down his throat. The coward who’d usually always have been in hiding by the time a ghost attacked crushed yet another feeble mask in his fists, standing firm in the corridor as the monster let out another guttural screech. That mouth so used to petering out pathetic sarcastic remarks as he was shoved in his locker slammed into the jock with all the hesitance of a charging train.

“MOVE, NOW!”

…something glinted in Fenton’s eyes...

Dash forgot how to breathe.

…was that green?!

“The hell are you doing, you idiot?! RUN!”

Fenton’s hand slammed into his back like a charging truck and he bolted.

The monster raised a grotesque, hooked claw at Dash and a brutal swing sailed over his head—what could’ve been a deadly bullseye if his clumsy legs hadn’t sent him almost tumbling over after the rough shove. His legs caught him blindly before he could think, and he was off. The greys of lockers and the white of undamaged walls blurred together into a sea of worthless noise in his peripheral vision. Dash’s heart drove a whip into his burning legs and his shoes pounded into the floor…but they paled as muffled taps in comparison to the ground-shaking charge of the ghost—abomination behind him. All sound faded away behind the thick rush of blood in his ears; all his vision honed in on, his desperate lifeline, was the tell-tale bend of the end of the corridor…

A bright green burst in the sea of metal to Dash’ right, leaving a half-molten mass in its wake.

His heaving chest didn’t have the time to scream.

An approaching, infuriated screech and racket of heavy thuds closed in on him and clawed at his bones. The corner rushed up to greet him, A new series of doors replaced the damaged line-up from the other corridor, where a loud crash echoed not far on his heels…but he didn’t dare look back. Part of him wondered what the hell had happened to Fenton, but it lost out to the half too desperate for his own life to care.

…another brutal slam, a pained screech, lockers crunching as they buckled, another blast and a deep skid across the floor like a boulder dragged across sandpaper.

His gaze darted across the locked and unused classroom doors. Just as a small sob welled up in the back of his throat, a door at the end of the corridor reeled his eyes in—the handle twisted downward, the gap in the doorway slightly ajar…the homeroom teacher had apparently been careless enough to not lock up before first period.

His chest sailed in delirious relief.

Yes! Oh, thank FUCK!

A wall of air whipped at his face with a careless skid and the revenge of inertia. He flung the door open and tumbled inside, before ungracefully slamming it shut behind him. His fingers fumbled with the lock switch next to the inside handle, and his shaking body collapsed back against the wood.

Okay…it’s okay…it’s okay…I’m alive, I’m alive…

A horrific pit sank in his stomach as the distant noises reached a peak and turned down his hallway.

…shit!

A precarious glance out of the slitted glass window on top of the door showed him an empty white corner…until another green blast shot into the plaster, and a mess of gnarled approximations of crustaceous legs clambered onto the ceiling—one…then two, three…four…five…what sort of fucking ghost was this?!

Black beads and a not-beak twisted around the distant corner. They gazed into the distance and locked onto his eye level.

His heart leapt into oblivion.

Dash gasped and dropped back to the floor. Time stopped once more; his tether to reality snapped with a violent twang and his lungs didn’t know when they started eating themselves from the inside out, but his limbs knew what they had to do—his legs scrambled him under a desk away from the doorway and his hands clamped shut over the wheezing breaths pouring from his mouth. In a last, desperate moment, he seized control of his diaphragm from the autopilot and froze his chest.

Dead silence.

The seconds ticked on in an agonising crawl, his ribs tanked a rapid pummelling trying to contain his out of control heart and his lungs burned…but he didn’t dare breathe, not make a sound.

He squeezed his eyes shut, desperately trying to rid his mind of the horrific inky abyss that stared into him.

Please…

He hoped and prayed, wetness gushing down the back of his throat.

…go away…go away…turn around…

The silence sank to rock bottom—he wasn’t sure if all the commotion had ended, or if his mind was losing its grip on reality…

I don’t want to die—

CRASH!

A wretched crack into wood and Dash’s world went black.

…

He awoke to a fuzzy thud in his head and high-pitched ringing torturing his eardrums. His eyes rolled around, dizzily in their sockets, his vision swimming in a tumble dryer and refusing to find and anchor point. Deep, faded, distant twangs thumped into his back, and a distant buzz unfurled in his throat as a cracked groan shot up through his skull. A shaky hand reached from somewhere (his own?) to feebly support his forehead; somewhere in his vicinity, his legs struggled to scrape through a sea of jagged wood and metal. He blinked away some of the grogginess, and a sea of brown and white gradually sharpened into something clearer.

Empty patches had been burned into the plaster and blackboard, singed with what was probably ectoplasm. The teacher’s desk was a pile of splinters and the students’ desks and chairs tumbled into a haphazard pile that wouldn’t look out of place in news footage he’d seen of tornadoes.

He poured all of the remains of his strength into the mass of wood on top of him, throwing a desk off of his back. He got up on all fours, limbs trembling and exhausted by an infinite weight, as he craned his aching neck up to check the back corner.

A massive green eldritch horror reared up at a glowing black-and-white jumpsuit buzzing around it in mid-air. Dash’s heart sailed.

…Oh, Phantom! Thank god!

The ghost boy sailed erratically around each deadly thrust and swipe, and charged an ectoblast back at the monstrosity.

It’s okay, Dash went limp with relief, he’s here…Phantom’s here…I’m not going to die…!

…

…but in the bare few seconds that the lithe figure stopped post-attack, Dash’s eyes wandered to his hero’s face, and his head swam.

Freckled features faded under a sea of dirty scratches and grazes, oozing green the way the ones all over his jumpsuit didn’t. Something uneasy and familiar tinged in him at the way those thick ebony brows furrowed under snowy bangs and acid-green eyes narrowed in strained concentration. Despite their supernatural glow, they seemed blunted—as if something dull lurked underneath their once-strong surface and drained all the life out of the colour…

…something, even without the dark circles underneath sporadically twinging eyelids…that seemed tired.

…A spiny tail reared out of the tangled furniture.

No!

His mouth opened to scream for the ghost kid, but it fell on deaf ears.

A brutal swing slammed the young hero straight into the floor with a sickening crack.

Dash’s relief nosedived into horror. The wretched limb curled around the thin frame it had pinned, lifted it and threw it into the wall, leaving the limp form hanging feebly by the cracked edges of the new hole.

His distant awareness picked up the vague moment his lips clamped around a desperate plea that never saw the light of day. Oh, god. This was it. A wobble bubbled in the back of a throat, waiting for its moment to burst into a cascade of terrified sobs.

A pained groan crackled weakly out of Phantom’s chest, and a feeble shift of his limbs caused plaster underneath him to crumble. Strange, bright rings washed over Phantom’s form as he fell from his ragged perch, taking the flickering glow and blackness of the jumpsuit with them.

His brain crashed. His mouth, now loosened up enough to speak, could only malfunction in empty stutters…

A very different figure lay in Phantom’s place.

…How?!

Shining white boots disappeared in favour of worn, red sneakers.

…but...it couldn’t be!

A very familiar t-shirt and jeans replaced the sleek jumpsuit.

…it was impossible!

Snowy hair darkened into jet-black, and even though those eyelids lay half-shut, a faded voice in Dash’s jettisoned mind told him he knew what he’d see if they were fully open. In an ill-timed moment of sick clarity, his mind regurgitated the image of those tired, but sharp sapphires shooting into his soul.

I’m not scared of you anymore.

…and, Dash sure as hell knew why—whatever this was…however it happened…he had a lot worse to be afraid of.

That glowing, bony maw gaped down at the duo from above; soulless black beads narrowed in satisfied triumph.

Dash’s limbs shivered violently, yet his muscles froze solid against his brain’s desperate pleas to move.

It was over. He was going to die…that was it. Just gone…over…never to wake up. Everything was going to end…at age fifteen.

His only hope was down, the freak…his hero… struggled out a cough, sluggishly orienting his head no more than a few scant inches. The creature screeched victoriously; coal-black orbs narrowed hungrily as a glowing, grotesque digit reared sharply back above its fallen opponent…

A wretched burst of pain burst through the sea of quicksand in Dash’s head.

Whether it was fear, despair, shock, shame…he didn’t know.

His legs bolted forward before he could think. The thickened air sailed past him in an instant; the ghost boy’s tiny human form slammed into his arms and a brutal pain tore across his side.

A distant scream tore from underneath him.

“DASH!”

[darks-ink]

Spark

Prompt: How does being constantly exposed to high amounts of ectoplasm affect the citizens of Amity Park? Prompt by: @robotbeowulf Word count: 2,487

[AO3] [FFN] [more Phic Phight fics]

---

Danny shrugged, shifting his backpack to lie a little more comfortably on his shoulders, and pretended very hard to be a regular student. It wasn’t easy, but it hadn’t been easy for the last two years. The constant secret-keeping from everyone was wearing on him.

Not to mention the constant ghost attacks, of course. He was pretty sure all of Amity Park was covered in a thick film of ectoplasm by now, considering how much of it he and the other ghosts spilled and fired during the almost-constant battles. Sure, his parents said that the stuff evaporated and then returned to the Ghost Zone, but his parents also said that humans couldn’t have ghost powers, and Danny was the (mostly) living proof that that wasn’t true, either.

He was jerked from his thoughts—literally—by a fist, grabbing him by the shirt and slamming him against the lockers he had been walking by.

“Hi, Dash,” Danny muttered, trying to hide away his weariness with apathy. “Good morning to you too.”

“Fentonia,” Dash growled back, leaning in close to Danny’s face. A little too close, thank you, ever heard of personal space? “Finally.”

Danny bit back the automatic reply—aw, were you waiting for me?—and settled for grimacing at Dash.

Not that that went over well, of course, because Dash’s other hand found its way to Danny’s shirt as well. With Danny well in his grasp, Dash lifted him, slamming him against the lockers again, this time with his feet off of the ground—no easy way of getting out. Not without using his powers, at least.

“What’s wrong, Fenturd?” Dash asked, pressing Danny against the lockers even harder. “Ghost got your tongue?”

Ha ha, how creative. How funny. Danny was sure he’d come up with funnier jokes in his sleep. “Fuck off,” he grunted at Dash as his back was slammed against the hard metal behind him again.

“Ooh, he’s got bite today.” Dash leaned back a bit, a vicious grin on his face, then crowded Danny against the lockers again. “Oh, no, never mind. Looks like he’s all bark.”

Danny snarled back at Dash before he’d really thought about it—before he could stop himself, really. It wasn’t even words, really, just an animalistic snarl and the pulse of his core that meant his eyes were glowing.

Oh, fuck. And Dash was way too close to miss that.

“Hey, there you go!” Dash… cheered? The fists clenched in Danny’s shirt released, and his feet thumped down on the ground before he’d really caught on to what was happening. Dash was already turning away from him, nudging Kwan. “See, I told you Fenton could do it too!”

That… was not the reaction he’d expected to get to ghostly glowing eyes. What the fuck?

Kwan laughed audibly, and Danny wrenched his eyes away from Dash and towards the other boy. The… the laughing, visibly cheery boy.

Seriously. What was going on?

“So, uh… No bullying anymore today?” Danny asked, and then felt like he could kick himself. Absolute moron. Who asks that sort of thing?

Dash snorted, apparently amused (amused???) by Danny’s idiotic question, and waved a dismissive hand. “What’s the point? I got what I was after.”

Okay? Good? That explained absolutely nothing. If anything, Danny felt even more confused. Had Dash seriously been bullying him trying to get him to glow eyes his? To snarl at him?

What???

Apparently he vocalized that last thought, because Kwan’s eyes turned back to him, a hesitant grin on his face.

And then Kwan’s eyes flashed a bright, glowing, cyan.

Danny, still leaning against the lockers he’d been pressed to, froze up automatically. He knew what that meant. Had spent enough time combing through his parents’ research—and with his own experience—to know that briefly glowing eyes couldn’t be caused by ordinary ghostly causes. An overshadowing ghost altered the eye-color of their host, but that was constant.

And, if there had been a ghost, Danny would’ve felt them. He’d grown more than strong enough to sense ghosts even if they were hidden in a host.

“He’s had them for a while.” Dash spoke casually, like this wasn’t a big fucking deal. “We couldn’t find anybody else with that brand of ecto-contamination, y’know, so Kwan was feeling super down about that.”

“Dash,” Kwan groaned, sounding put-upon. As carefully as Danny listened, the only thing he could hear was the undercurrent of care Kwan held for Dash. For his friend.

“Shut up, man.” Dash nudged his friend, then picked up his explanation that didn’t explain anything. “See, but I knew I had seen you do them too. The glowy eyes, I mean.” Dash underlined the latter with a vague gesture at his own eyes. “So I just had to push you into doing them while Kwan could see, to prove that he wasn’t the only one.”

“Uh.” Danny blinked at them, feeling like he missed everything Dash had said after the words “ecto-contamination”. What?

No, seriously, he knew he’d uttered that word a lot these past five minutes—even if only in his head—but what?

“You had to get him angry, though,” Kwan muttered, bumping shoulders with Dash. “You know that’s not the only way to make them glow.”

“Yeah, but it was the easiest to push him into,” Dash easily admitted.

And then, while Danny was still reeling, feeling like he’d missed at least seven steps in this conversation, Kwan stepped in closer and shot him a bright smile. “Thanks, Fenton. I feel a ton better.”

“Uh, yeah.” Danny blinked, watching the two of them wander off like nothing happened. “You’re welcome?”

“Man, what was all of that?” he muttered to himself, staring at the empty hallway for a moment before pushing himself away from the lockers. He desperately needed to talk to Sam and Tucker, see if they had any idea what all of that was about.

Somewhere, he kind of wished that Jazz was still in Amity. She would definitely know what the hell all of that was all about.

Seriously. Dash had just casually muttered the words ecto-contamination, and then suggested that it was common enough for there to be accepted variants of it.

How had Danny missed all of that?

!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-!-

“There’s Val,” Sam whispered, leaning in closer. Danny followed her gaze and, indeed, there was the girl they’d been looking for all morning.

Well, it figured that they wouldn’t manage to pin her down until lunch, but it was frustrating nonetheless. Sam and Tucker hadn’t known what the stuff with Dash and Kwan had been about, either, so they had decided to ask the only person they could reasonably ask: Valerie Gray.

But that, in turn, meant that they had to just sit on the knowledge until lunch.

At least she had picked a distant enough seat that they could talk in private. Small blessings.

“Let’s hope she actually knows what’s going on,” Tucker muttered, before nudging Danny forward. “You go first, dude.”

So quick to sacrifice him to the ghost huntress. Danny shook his head but walked over, slipping into the seat opposite of Valerie. “Hey, Val.”

“Danny,” she greeted him back, raising an eyebrow at Sam and Tucker, who sat down on either side of him. “Well, this feels like an interrogation all of a sudden.”

He shot Sam a meaningful glance, but she just grinned back, pushing herself to sit more squarely on the seat. Rude.

“Danny had a weird interaction with Dash and Kwan this morning,” Tucker started explaining, breaking the tension before it could really go anywhere. “We were hoping you could offer… I dunno, some clarification, since you know them better than we do.”

She snorted, leaning back slightly. “They’re Dash and Kwan. Every interaction with them is weird.”

“Well, yeah, but they were…” Danny paused, briefly hesitant to mention it—what would Valerie think of ghost-powered humans?—before powering through. “They were talking about ecto-contamination, and known variants of it.”

The look they got in response was flat. Flat, and clearly confused.

After a long and exceedingly awkward moment of silence, Valerie cleared her throat and asked, clearly hesitant, “None of you noticed?”

“Noticed what?” Tucker frowned, glancing between the three of them and Valerie.

“That pretty much everyone in Amity Park has ghost-like traits?” She raised a questioning eyebrow at them. “Everyone, but especially the kids here at Casper High, has ecto-contamination so bad that we’re all, well. Becoming a little ghost-like.” She paused, shook her head, then asked. “None of you seriously noticed?”

Danny drew back, considering his words, but before he could really think about it, Sam had already flapped a dismissive hand. “The three of us spend so much time in and around Fentonworks that we’re already contaminated to hell and back,” she dryly explained. “And honestly, Valerie, how much time do we really spend with anyone outside our direct circle?”

“Fair enough,” Valerie allowed with a shrug. “Right, so, it mostly seems to be caused by the Portal and the constant ghost attacks. I mean, obviously, right?”

“Right,” Danny agreed, ignoring the way his stomach was turning. He’d tried so hard to keep everyone safe, but had the presence of ghosts been endangering them all along? Had the spilled ectoplasm really affected people, and so badly too?

“Now, what we started noticing pretty early on is that people generally only display a single ghost power, once they become contaminated enough to actually have a discernible ghost power. Some people consider them distinct variants: people with invisibility, with intangibility, flight, etcetera.”

Sam and Tucker both hummed, thoughtfully. Valerie raised her other eyebrow at that, then shook her head and continued on.

“Generally people don’t get contaminated enough to display more than those basic powers, but exceptions exist, I guess. And your contamination is probably way worse than anyone else’s, except maybe actual ghost hunters like the Fentons.” She made a face. “And that’s assuming their jumpsuits don’t protect them, which I doubt.”

“I’m pretty sure they do,” Danny mumbled, trying to inconspicuously watch both of his best friends from the corner of his eyes. The more Valerie explained about the ecto-contamination that apparently haunted all of Amity Park, the more their expressions twisted into something they usually called “suddenly understanding weird shit that had been happening”.

It was, unfortunately, a somewhat common expression these days. What with ghosts becoming a common thing, and all that.

“I… Some of the plants in my greenhouse grow unusually well whenever I’m near. Some even seem to react to my presence…” Sam admitted, her voice quiet, uncharacteristically reluctant. After a moment of hesitation, she tacked on, “And sometimes, when I really really don’t want to deal with my parents, they just… overlook me, like I’m not there at all.”

Like she was invisible, they all heard, despite the fact that Sam didn’t say the words.

Seemingly encouraged by Sam’s admission, Tucker added on, “I rarely, if ever, charge my tech. Their batteries just don’t seem to empty as long as I have them on me. And sometimes when I’m digging into code, it feels like… like I can alter it directly, like I’m tapping into some inner world that doesn’t—shouldn’t—exist.” Just like Sam, Tucker also paused for a moment. “When I’m running from a ghost or whatever, sometimes I run into an alley that I know has a dead end and never hit the wall.”

Like he was just phasing through it, going intangible before he hit it.

Danny swallowed through the clog he suddenly found in his throat, watching Valerie turn a meaningful look to him. She wanted him to tell her about his— his ghost powers. But he couldn’t just pretend all of his powers came from the contamination of living at Fentonworks, could he?

And he definitely couldn’t pick certain powers as acceptable and others as not.

“I… I guess weird shit has happened to me too, yeah,” he finally admitted, cautiously, hoping she guessed the source of his reluctance wrong. “But I never really thought about it, to be honest. Anything I could blame the ecto-contamination for could just as easily be caused by actual ghosts.” And in a way it was, of course. Anything caused by his ecto-contamination was caused by an actual ghost: Phantom.

“But,” he tacked on, knowing Valerie wouldn’t just let that lie. She was far too stubborn not to investigate. “Dash and Kwan apparently saw me with glowing eyes?”

Valerie hummed, then nodded. “That makes sense, I guess. I know Kwan has the glowing eyes variant as well, so that would explain why they’ve been targeting you.”

“It’s been around that long?” Sam asked, leaning forward, clearly curious despite herself. “I figured it would’ve taken longer than that to show up.”

“Oh, no, that was long after I got kicked out of the group,” Valerie said dismissively. “But Kwan saw me with a ghost scanner one day, and he begged me to scan him. I guess he was seriously worried that he had been overshadowed, even if overshadowing doesn’t work like that.”

“I don’t think he got rid of that fear, to be honest.” Danny shrugged, uneasy. “At least, he seemed pretty cheered-up when I, uh, glowed my eyes at him and Dash.”

Tucker snorted, and Danny could see Sam crack a grin as well, probably at his word choice. Well, fuck them. What did you call it, if not “glowing your eyes at them”?

“Anyway, I can’t help but notice that we all told you, but you haven’t said a word about what you can do,” Sam prodded, nudging Valerie. “Come on, Val.”

“Yeah, that does seem a little unfair.” Tucker leaned forward as well, an expression of genuine curiosity on his face.

And, honestly? Danny kind of wanted to know as well. Her ghost hunting suit probably hadn’t protected her, and her new suit definitely didn’t. If anything, the Technus-made suit probably had just worsened it.

“I…” Valerie visibly hesitated, then gave in. “I can fly, a little. It’s not really all that great, but at least I won’t break anything if I ever fall out of a tree or something.”

She said it with a light tone, like it was just a casual joke. All Danny could think of, however, was all the times he’d seen Valerie fall off of her hoverboard, especially at the start.

He carefully does not wince.

“That’s pretty neat,” he forced himself to say instead. “Less lame than glowing eyes, at least.”

Valerie grinned back at him, but before she could say anything the bell rung.

“Guess we’d better head to class,” Sam said with a grunt, pushing herself off of the bench.

“Yeah.” Tucker got up as well, then nodded at Valerie. “Thanks for the explanation, Valerie.”

Danny followed suit, shooting her a smile. “Same. Thanks, Val.”

She had given him a lot to think about.

[zafirosreverie]

Share my infinite (Agatha x Fem!reader) part 3

A/N: So, once again i got carried away and this ended up being long. I wanted to make it a happy ending but also keeping the possibility of a continuation if you want it.

Anyway, i hope you enjoy it! Love you!

You growled as you started to open your eyes, but shut them again a second later. Your head hurted like hell and you really didn’t want to move. You felt too tired and your body felt too heavy for you, you just wanted to go back to sleep. 

The pain was too much for you to handle. It felt like your whole body was on fire. Something inside you snapped.

“Y/N!” You heard Agatha’s voice from somewhere near you. 

You opened your eyes again, forcing yourself up, even if it felt like your arms and legs were about to fall out. You didn’t recognise the place you were. It was dark and you were the only thing there, as if you were inside a box, not lights, no windows, nothing. Just the blackness around you.

But you felt safe.

“Where the hell am i?” you asked out loud, not really expecting an answer. 

You couldn’t see anything, but that didn’t stop you from walking around. Each step was painful at first, but the more you walked, the easier it was. 

“Please don’t die, please don’t die” a voice said and you recognised it as Agatha’s. Her voice sounded too far. You turned around but couldn’t see anything. 

“Aggie?” you said, but no one answered.

“AGGIE!” you yelled. Nothing.

“You can’t do this to me, love. Please, please don’t leave me” She said and she sounded so desperate, so lost, so broken. It was heartbreaking and you just wanted to hold her in your arms, whisper in her ear that you were fine and you wouldn’t leave her. You just wanted to save her. But you weren’t even sure how to save yourself.

Memories came back to you in that moment. You walking to your house, already thinking of the recipe you would use for the cake. Billy and Tommy walking by your sides, milk and bread on their arms. The explosion. The pain. You telling them to run and hide. The hole in your chest as you ran to your house. The second wave of pain. Agatha’s voice behind you. Agatha. Then Blackness.

You sat on the floor, trying to solve your own mystery. 

“What did Wanda do to me?” you thought, but then frowned. “No, she didn’t do anything. She couldn’t. I’m supposed to be safe from magic” 

Your blood was supposed to protect you. Then what the hell happened? You remembered when you and Agatha met. She used her magic on you, but she didn’t mean any harm, so your blood allowed her magic to touch you. 

Wanda wasn’t trying to hurt you at all. There was not an evil intention. It was an accident. Is that why your blood didn’t protect you? But then, there have been a lot of accidents in your life, living with a witch could be dangerous sometimes, especially when she was practicing the strongest spells. But you have always been protected even from the harmful accidents.

“You just hate me, don’t you?” you asked, to no one but referring to your blood. Then frowned again “great, now i’m talking to my fucking blood. Focus Y/N!”

“wake up, just wake up!” Agatha’s voice said and you knew she was crying. For a moment, you felt her sadness, she was scared. But suddenly, it changed to something more dangerous. Rage.  “Let her go. NOW!” She growled at someone. 

“I- i can’t” another voice said “I- i don’t know what’s happening. I didn’t do anything!” you recognised this second voice too. Wanda. And she was scared, though you didn’t know if it was because of what happened to you or because she felt Agatha’s fury.

“You have three seconds to let my wife go” Agatha warned and you blinked. 

Wife? you weren’t even married. You felt your heart jumping and couldn’t help the small smile that appeared on your face. Has Agatha been thinking of marriage? You two have been together for too long that it didn’t seem necessary, but the fact that she had thought about it meant the world for you. She was so sweet.

“FOCUS!” a third voice said and you jumped. It wasn’t your voice, it wasn’t Agatha’s, it wasn’t Wanda’s. In fact, you didn’t recognise this one. Unlike Agatha’s or Wanda’s, this voice sounded like the owner was there with you. But you were alone. 

“What the-” 

“FOCUS Y/N!” the voice scolded you and you turned around, trying to see who was talking. 

“Who are you?!” You asked, a little worried.

“There will be enough time for that conversation, but right now, you need to wake up” it said. 

“Wake up?” you frowned. 

“You’re trapped in your mind” the voice simply said and you felt your heart stopping. 

Your mind. You were on your mind?! Well, that actually explained some things, and it made sense, since Wanda has been doing it to the rest of Westview for a long time now. But Agatha had told you that it was painful, that the people being mind controlled were in agony at all times. Then why were you fine?

“Because the magic was too powerful outside. Here, I can protect you from the pain better” the voice said and you were just too confused.

“protect me? Who are you?” you asked again

“No time! You have to wake up, or you’re gonna stay here forever” it said. You swore you heard it behind you.

“Let. Her. Go” Agatha growled and you knew her patience was gone. 

“Your wife’s about to destroy everything” the voice said and you smiled. Of course your Aggie would destroy the world for you. Gosh, you loved her. “Can you please focus on waking up? You can be a lesbian later. Hurry up!” it urged you and you rolled your eyes. 

“Can’t see why i can’t do both” you joked, then sighed “alright, Casper, tell me how to wake up”.

______________

Wanda’s eyes widened on fear. She didn’t want any of this to happen! She was just trying to have a good life with her family, but Vision wasn’t listening and she lost control for a moment. She didn’t want to hurt you! But the woman in front of her didn’t hear. This wasn’t Agnes, her friend. This was a woman totally different, and she was fucking scary.

Agatha carefully let your body on the floor, fully turning to Wanda, her purple magic getting stronger with her fury.

“You can kidnap an entire town” she said “you can control your puppets and hurt them if you want”

Wanda stepped back. What was she talking about? She wasn’t hurting anyone! right? The older witch’s eyes were glowing purple as the strings of magic around her floated closer to Wanda.

“But you. Can’t. Touch. My. Wife” Agatha growled and blasted the other woman with her magic. Wanda screamed as she was thrown away. A purple rope wrapped around her ankle and she felt herself being pulled to a nearby house. She tried to fight back, but the other witch didn't let her, throwing her from a building to another too quickly for her to form any spell. 

Agatha watched as she kept throwing Wanda, her rage blinding her to the rest of the world. 

She had been at the other side of the city when she felt your pain. She flew as fast as she could, but when she arrived at your side, you were already lying on the floor.  

She quickly kneeled beside you, taking you in her arms. She called your name, but you were unconscious. She was so scared. She tried to use her magic to wake you up, but it didn't work. She prayed and begged you to wake up, but your pulse was getting weaker and weaker. 

No, she couldn't lose you. 

The witch felt her tears rolling down her cheeks and her rage blooming on her chest as she turned to Wanda. That stupid woman. 

She was the scarlet witch, a powerful being, practically a myth among witches. 

But she made the mistake of hurting you, and Agatha didn't care if she was supposed to be more powerful than her. 

She. Would. Pay.

Deep inside, Agatha was furious at herself. She shouldn’t have let your side, she should have protected you. She shouldn’t have brought you here in the first place. She was too desperate to make you immortal, to find a way to be with you forever. She just wanted to share her infinite with you. 

But she ended up putting you in danger, probably even killing you. The thought broke her heart and the tears were blinding her at this point. She just wanted to love you and ended up losing you.

“Aggie” a whisper came behind her and she freezed. She slowly turned to see you trying to open your eyes. 

Her mind went blank, quickly forgetting all her rage, her sadness and everything else. She didn’t see Wanda falling unconscious when her purple magic finally released her.

“Y/N?” she said, quickly flying to your side. She kneeled and took you in her arms carefully, watching your face frowning as you fought the light. Her heart was racing. 

“Y/N, love?” she said again and you groaned, finally opening your eyes. 

It took you a moment to realise where the hell were you this time, having used a lot of your strength to fight Wanda’s magic and break free from your own mind. 

“That Casper fellow was a good help” you thought. You felt something wet and warm hitting your cheek, making you turn to the person holding you. Agatha’s face was painted with concern as her tears hit your face. But her eyes were what catched your attention. They were full of hope, fear, anger and most importantly, love. 

Hope that you were alive, fear that it wouldn’t be for too long, angry that she didn’t protect you. But above all, love,  love for you.

“Hey, periwinkle” you whispered and smiled, slowly raising your hand to her face. Agatha gave you a teary smile for the pet name, it had been a long time since the last time you called her that. 

“Y/N” she whispered and closed her eyes when you caressed her cheek. She was afraid you would disappear at any moment.

“shhh, i’m here dear. I’m here” you promised and gently pulled her face to yours. She happily met your lips and her heart felt a little less broken. She kissed you as if her life depended on it, not wanting to let you go for a second. 

You pressed your forehead to hers when you broke the kiss and watched as relief painted her beautiful face. It amazed you the love she had for you. Agatha locked eyes with you and kissed you again. and again...and again. 

You giggled when you finally stopped her, putting your hand on her shoulder. She looked at you worried. 

“As much as i want to fucking kiss all of you, even your shadow, i can’t do it on the street” you half joked and she chuckled, tears still rolling down her face. You wiped them away and pecked her lips again.

Agatha smiled and carefully carried you. She took you to your home and left you on the couch, ready to look for any injuries you might have. You smiled at her, loving how her hands felt on your skin and how gentle she was with you. When she made sure you didn’t have  any serious injuries, she looked back at your face. She gasped and you winked.

You were wide smiling, showing her your teeth.

Your fangs were long again.

[mggpleasedontlookhere]

socks, penguins, and dinosaurs

summary: you and spencer are roommates, both living in the same apartment as you’re on your way to obtaining your MD and Spencer applying to be a part of the bau. although, despite the germaphobe spencer is, he seems to love leaving his clothes everywhere

word count: 1,081                                                                                               reading time aprox: 4 mins

masterlist

Clothes were piled up on the floor, various colors of t-shirts and blouses littered every inch of the apartment I shared with Spencer. Sifting through the mess, I began picking up all the soiled clothes and placing them at their appropriate places, gagging as diverse scents infiltrated my nose. 

I sighed, scratching the back of my neck as I witnessed the amount of laundry I would have to do. I huffed all the way back to my room, taking a peek at Spencer’s, only to notice that he wasn’t present at the moment. 

He better have went to go grocery shopping or else that IQ of his won’t be saving him from the slap on the forehead I’m about to give him. 

I dramatically tossed myself onto the sheets of the bed, staring up at the ceiling with crossed arms. I tossed and turned as I laid sprawled and tangled up in my covers, accidently kicking throw pillows off to the side. 

I can’t seem to get some warmth with whatever I do. 

I groaned in frustration, rubbing the palms of my hands on my arms in attempt to generate some sort of heat. I stood back up to look at the thermometer and noticed that it was 60 degrees in the room. I dragged myself up to my dresser, scrummaging through the mess in a haste in attempt to find warmer clothing. I grabbed an oversized turtleneck, another pair of sweatpants, and some winter mittens. While searching for a fuzzy pair of socks, I realized all of my pairs were in the laundry. 

“For the sake of everything living” I cursed at myself, wallowing in defeat and discomfort while waddling back to the layers of my comforter. 

That’s when it hit me.

My eyes sprung open as I leaped out of the bed, walking towards the hall where Spencer’s bedroom was. I creeped keeping an eye out for him, knowing he could be home any moment. With agile and delicate footsteps, I snuck into Spencer’s room, waving hi to Casper, Spencer’s cat, that peered at me from his bookshelves filled with science fiction novels. 

I combed through his dresser, foraging for any pairs of socks. Although, there were only piles of sweater vests and his Doctor Who t-shirts that he wore to sleep. After a while of rummaging through his belongings, I finally found his sock drawer, only to find that not a single one matched. 

His drawer was up to the brim with an array of patterns from solid colors to one with zigzags and dinosaurs on them. 

For a 23 year old man, you wouldn’t think he’d still have dinosaurs on his socks.

I laughed to myself, pulling out an orange sock with penguins printed on them and the same dinosaur sock that I poked fun at. 

I wonder what patterns he has on his underwe- Nope, no, not going to think about that. That’s for a different time. 

I cringed at the thought, sliding on the mismatched pair of socks, smiling as I wiggled my toes, making the little penguins and dinosaurs dance harmoniously as I sat on his bed. 

I looked over at Casper, only for him to be staring at me as well. “What do you think Casper?” I looked down at my feet, referring to the socks, earning a small meow from Casper. 

“You know Casper, you seriously need to pee on at least 50% of Spencer’s socks so he can finally go out and buy some new on-”

I was cut off by a loud bang, making me yelp in surprise and tumble off of Spencer’s bed. While getting up, I saw a head of hair peep into the room. Turns out that head of hair was Spencer. 

“Hey, are you okay Y/N?’ 

Concern was evident in his tone, until his eyes landed on me and the attire I had on. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion until he noticed the mittens I had worn in my hands. He let out a chuckle shaking his head as Casper jumped off from his post, startling me also. 

“Do I wanna know?” Spencer asked, peering at me with a playful condescending smirk, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorframe. 

“Oh shut up, you celery stick” I sneered. “You know for a germaphobe, you sure like to leave your clothes laying around” I declared, shooting him a judgemental glare, making the smirk on his face grow. 

He walked over to his bed, plopping himself down next to me as he placed his satchel on the floor. “I don’t wanna know the story Y/L/N. If it makes you feel any bet- Wait, is...are those my socks?” He glanced down at my feet, snickering as he noticed the dinosaurs and penguins. “So you’ve started stealing all my socks now”.

I let out a dissatisfied groan, shoving a throw pillow onto my face, not wanting to give Spencer the satisfaction of seeing embarrassment visible in my expression. 

“It’s kinda cute” He confessed, grabbing the pillow that I desperately hid my face in and tossing it aside. “Although, you do need to shave your cankles, it’s starting to look like mine” He teased, earning a swift knock to the head from me. 

“Shut up Spence” I sighed, letting my eyes close and letting Spencer’s covers engulf me. “How was your day anyway?” I questioned, turning to look at him. 

“Good...my application went through” He replied, not taking his eyes off of the ceiling as we lay in his bed sideways. 

“What went through?”

“My application to the BAU, I just got a call from one of the head agents, Aaron Hotchner and told me to be there Monday morning” He confessed. 

I jumped up in excitement, making the bed sway in different directions. “No fucking way Spence, really?” I shrieked, grabbing his arm and waving it around in excitement. He laughed at my childlike manner, sitting straight up to continue observing my reaction. 

“Do you know this means that we’re going to have to get you some regular socks now, right agent Spence?” I suggested.

“You know that’s never going to happen and it’s Doctor” He retorted

I sighed leaning my head onto his shoulder, watching Casper walk through the crack between the door and the doorframe. A half smile etched onto my lips as I thought about the many doors this opportunity opens up for Spencer. 

“Hey Spence?”

“Yeah”

“Are there dinosaurs and penguins on your underwear too?”