#also I did consider Sam and Danny being young and stupid but decided to go for fluff humor more than realism

[imsociallyanxiousgetoverit]

I dunno if anyone else has seen those tiktoks of young parents who raise their baby with a bunch of friends but I just suddenly saw Danny with baby!Ellie and his classmates all having fun caring for this baby along with their families all helping out,,,, I imagined that the class find out Vlad is somehow the other parent and even after Danny outs himself because Yeah No he is Not letting them think He did That to Him they run him out of town by becoming a mob of teenagers who even the police realize they can’t do anything about and so Lancer becomes co-mayor with someone else whilst also maintaining his position as a teacher… I recognize most of this is nuts and I dont even have any ideas on Jazz or their parents but like… the class having fun with the baby in school! Ellie is a distraction, yes, but Danny cannot handle her being left with anyone else (yes this was actually my plan for why she’s in class) so they all just- adjust and attendance has never been greater plus grades have gone up cuz morale and even bullying has gone down… Ellie does a lot to help Casper High before she even has memories and Danny knows even if something happens with the portal and the Zone again that Ellie will Never be alone or unloved or uncared for…

[rinkunokoisuru]

I don’t normally write fan fics, not to mention actually share them, so I’m super nervous, but whatever, here we go This is based on the comic by @horrendoushag because I saw @lexosaurus‘s tags. Also some inspiration from some other fics seeing as I’ve read a lot of them.

Danny paused his game of Doomed and slid his over-sized set of headphones to his neck with a sigh at the knock on the door. He wasn't expecting Sam or Tucker to come over, and he knew that Jazz was at the library working on her thesis, so that really only left one or both of his parents as the one responsible. He swung his chair slightly towards the door as the knocking continued. "Yeah?" Danny called, voice raised. "Danny, can we come in? We need to talk with you." As suspected, it was his parents. Yes he'd forgotten to clean the lab again, and yes he'd only barely passed most of his classes, but this wasn't anything new for him. Besides, classes had only just ended for the semester, so it was unlikely that that was what they wanted to talk about since report cards hadn't even been sent home yet. Mentally preparing himself, he decided that he'd just have to let them come in and talk his way out of whatever it was they had to say or just accept the in-coming grounding. "Uh. Yeah, I guess." His mother opened the door and stepped to the side to allow his father space to enter the room.

"So what did you want to talk about?" Danny asked nervously. Maddie's lips were pulled tight and if the hood of her hazmat suit had been pulled back, Danny was sure the fire in her eyes would have been enough to make him shrink even further into his seat. Glancing towards his dad's more expressive face in hopes that he had just misinterpreted, Danny could see that he was just upset as his mother, though with a hint of confusion mixed in as well. "Would you care to explain this, young man?" She held up her phone for Danny to see the screen. From where he was sitting, he couldn't really see what the fuss was about. "It's, uh, twitter?" he shrugged before crossing his arms. "Danny-boy," his father stated sternly. "Alright, alright. Let me see," he grabbed for the phone. As he browsed through what his mother had passed to him, Danny felt his stomach flop in a mix of fear and embarrassment. "Well, Danny?" she tapped her foot impatiently. "What's all this about you dating that menace, Phantom?" Danny winced and sunk further into his chair. He never expected his parents would go on twitter in the first place, let alone find his profile. Phantom had had his own twitter profile for only a week before he'd been assaulted by people claiming ghosts weren't real, that they were his biggest fans, that he was scum that needed to be eradicated, people asking if he would date them, and other uncomfortable comments. Danny had learned to either ignore them or play along and quickly became known for his shitposts. The fact that he was dating himself had started as just a joke with Sam and Tucker to try to aggravate Wes, it had been inconceivable at the time that his parents would ever find those tweets. Yet here they were. "I can explain?" He could not explain. "Well let's hear it then, Danny," his mom replied, raising an eyebrow. The impatient foot tapping continued as he stared at the bedroom floor. He brought his hand up to rub at his neck, a nervous habit of his, as he wracked his brain for an excuse. The uncomfortable silence dragged on for what felt like hours to Danny, though was only about a minute before his dad broke it. "Danny," Jack soothed, placing his sizable hand on his son's significantly smaller shoulder, "we understand that you're getting older and starting to make a lot of your own decisions, but your mother and I are worried about you. It just isn't safe to spend so much time around such a dangerous ghost." "Phantom isn't dangerous." "I know Phantom is very popular with kids your age, but he is dangerous. He pretends to protect the town, but who knows what he could do if he decided to stop faking it," Maddie added. Danny jerked away from his father's hold and jumped out of his chair, only barely able to stop his eyes from glowing an unnatural ectoplasmic green. "No! Jazz and I keep telling you! Phantom doesn't pose a threat to humans." Jack narrowed his eyes with skepticism, and Danny was sure his mother was doing the same beneath her goggles. Letting out an exasperated huff, Danny continued, "You guys are too caught up in your 'research' to even consider that a ghost could be good. When was the last time you even talked with a ghost?" "Danny..." his mother started. Both of his parents had heard this same argument from Jazz plenty of times by now. "No, listen. You never listen. Phantom isn't going to hurt me!" "You can't know that." "Yes! I can!" "And how is that!" Maddie's lips impossibly pressed even thinner, her whole stance becoming more aggressive. "Because I'm Phantom!" His parents seemed to deflate at this outburst. As soon as he realized what he'd said, his hands flew to his mouth and he allowed the cold rush of invisibility to run over him. ---- It had been two weeks now since Danny had accidentally revealed to his parents that he and Phantom were one and the same. While the experience had been less than pleasant at the time, in hindsight it had been a pretty stupid way for his secret alter ego to come out. Jazz had come home not long after the confrontation. When she found out what had happened, she had some words of her own and stormed out to find Danny. As soon he returned safely, the whole family sat down to have a civil discussion about the news that Danny had been half ghost for almost two full years before they found out. To Danny's relief, his parent's had instantly accepted him, though that didn't stop them from feeling like they were at fault for what happened to him. Most of those two weeks since the outburst had been spent assuring his parents he was okay and that he didn't blame them. In fact he liked being part ghost. All things considered, things went much better than he thought they ever would have. Though that didn't stop things from being a little awkward when it came to Danny using his powers. ---- Danny and his friends slid into their usual booth at the Nasty Burger, Sam making sure to sit as far from the trays with meat as she could lest her stomach turn at the smell. Tucker lifted his Nasty burger and took a large whiff before shoving it into his mouth. "Sho how are your parentsh adjushting to you being Phantom?" "Please swallow your food before talking, Tucker," Sam rolled her eyes. Danny picked up one of his french fries and mindlessly dipped it into his ketchup. "I think they're doing alright. I'm still kind of hesitant to transform in front of them though." "I understand that. You basically lied to them for the past two years. It's going to take time for them to be completely comfortable with your ghost half," Sam said, picking at her slightly wilted salad. "Ugh, you sound like Jazz," Danny groaned, tossing his uneaten fry back onto the tray. "I know it's going to take time for them to get used to it." "They did say they want to support you, dude," Tucker gulped down the rest of the greasy burger. "Maybe you just need to expose them to a little more of your ghostly side," he wiggled his fingers for emphasis before pilfering some of Danny's fries, "Just use your powers around the house more often, man. Think of all the things you can do without worrying about getting caught now!" Danny glared briefly at the fry thief before turning back to his food with a sigh. "Maybe you have a point, Tuck." "Of course I do." "Maybe talk to Jazz about this plan first, just in case." "Better point," Danny replied before smacking Tucker's wandering hand away from his food once again. "Ouch! You weren't even eating those!" "They're still my fries." For the rest of their lunch, the group of teens mostly chatted about what movies they were looking forward to, which ghosts had been most annoying lately, and what other plans they had for their summer vacation. Eventually though, the trio had to go their separate ways. Sam's mother had plans to drag her daughter to some sort of benefit for the umpteenth time and Tucker had promised a group of his online friends that he'd help them out in some new game they were playing, so Danny waved goodbye and headed home by himself. It wasn't long before he'd arrived at his own doorstep and made his way upstairs. Danny considered dropping into bed and taking a nap before some ghost inevitably dropped in, but found himself wandering over to Jazz's room instead. Seeing the door was ajar, he quietly rapped on the door frame until his sister looked up from whatever she was working on. "What's up, Danny?" Jazz asked, a small smile on her face as she scooted her chair away from her desk so she could look at her brother while they spoke. He shuffled into the room and leaned against the wall. It took hardly any time for Danny to explain what he had discussed with Sam and Tucker, leaving Jazz looking pensive. "It actually seems like a pretty good idea to me," she finally said. "I think it might be good for all three of you. Especially since Mom and Dad aren't trying to shoot you anymore," she smirked. Danny let go of the tension he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "Thanks, Jazz." "No problem, little brother," she smiled gently. Danny sent back a small smile of his own and left the room, allowing Jazz to return to her work. --- "Danny?" "Yeah, Mom?" he called from the living room. "Can you help me with dinner, sweetie?" Rather than gather the energy to stand from his relaxed position on the couch, Danny tucked his phone into his pocket and allowed the cold feeling at his core to overtake him. There was a bright flash of light and suddenly where there had sat the blue-eyed, black-haired Fenton, was instead the blindingly bright white hair and toxic green eyes of his Phantom form. Now was as good a time as any to start using his powers around his parents more often. He let the weightlessness that came more naturally in his ghost form take over and lazily floated into the kitchen. "What did you need help with?" his voice echoed ominously. His mother jolted in surprise before once again composing herself. "I was just hoping you could reheat the leftover mashed potatoes to go with dinner," she started hesitantly. "I'm not interrupting a fight with a ghost, am I?" "Hm? Nah," he replied.    "A-alright then." Danny hovered on over to the refrigerator and stuck the entire front half of his body inside. He soon emerged with the cold bowl of potatoes and popped them into the microwave. At least they were less likely to come to life since they'd only been in there a day or so. Maddie watched her son flit about the kitchen like this was the most normal thing in the world. She absent-mindedly cleaned up the mess from preparing the night's meatloaf and supposed that for Danny, it probably was the norm. If he'd been half-ghost for nearly two years, then it would be sillier to expect him not to use his powers from time to time. "So how long until the meatloaf is done?" Danny questioned. The microwave was still running, but rather than continue to float in various places around the room, he had instead elected to change back into his human form and play around on his phone. "Just a few more minutes." "Awesome." They settled into a comfortable silence, Danny tapping away at a game on his phone and Maddie putting the finishing touches on the sides for their dinner. The quiet was only interrupted when the shrieking of the microwave alerted them that the potatoes were hopefully done reheating. "Danny, go get your father for dinner," Maddie said as she went to take the meatloaf out of the oven. "Okay," Danny replied without even looking up from his phone. In an instant, Danny Fenton had once again been replaced by Danny Phantom. Maddie stared in wide-eyed confusion as her son bent down onto the kitchen floor and stuck his head into the basement below. Jack happened to be looking up at the clock when he saw a shock of glowing, white hair sink through the ceiling. He felt his jaw drop as his the rest of Danny's head followed. There was a moment where they stared at each other, neither saying anything. "Dinner's ready," Danny finally relayed. Jack managed to shake himself out of his stupor. "Great! Thanks, Danny-boy!" The ghostly head of his son retreated back through the ceiling. It was going to be a while before Jack and Maddie could be completely comfortable around their son in ghost form, but at least Danny got to be a little shit in the process.

[mischiefandspirits]

Doppelgänger (18/19)

Previously on Doppelgänger ~ Masterlist ~ Next time on Doppelgänger

Danny, Sam, and Tucker were just 14 when they took a look inside the portal Danny’s parents had built. From there, everything changed. They woke up with white hair, green skin, and powers they could learn to control. They were hybrids, halfas.

They were the hero Doppelgänger.

{Reign Storm, Part 4}

“Another day, another night of trying to catch as many ghosts as we can before curfew,” Tucker groaned as the trio made their way to Danny’s bedroom.

“At least we managed to hide the Ecto-Skeleton in the fold before Vlad could take it,” Sam said.

“Plus Val is keeping up the truce for now and Jazz is covering for us,” Danny added.

“Yeah, and how long until Val turns her weapons back on us or Jazz decides to stick her nose in our business?” Sam muttered.

Danny opened his door. “She -”

The three stared at the room that very much was not Danny’s room. They looked behind them to see the green sky of the Ghost Zone with gears floating through it. They were standing on an island that housed a tall tower in the shape of a grandfather clock.

“Uh…”

“We’re not going to get anything caught tonight, are we?” Tucker sighed.

Sam pushed past her partners and stomped into the tower. “Alright you stupid ghost kidnapper, what do you want?”

No one answered and the boys followed her further into the tower.

They kept an eye out for whatever ghost had teleported them there, but the only movement was coming from the spinning gears that were everywhere or the circular screens scattered about.

Danny’s eyes caught on three that were side by side and he gasped.

The first was labeled Future: Ten Years and showed a ghost in the form of a young woman. She had pale teal skin and white hair, though her hair was a white vapor that flowed around her head and shoulders. She wore a floor-length black dress that was slit on the right side high on her thigh. She also had a white belt, thigh-high high-heeled boots, and elbow-length gloves. Her dress had an S-logo on her skirt that looked like claw marks as well as a long white cape with a black lining. She was draped over a dead tree in what appeared to be a destroyed city like it was a throne, smirking as a military group fled from the bright green void rapidly growing beneath her with every similarly colored tear that dripped from her dark gold eyes.

“Is that…” Danny started and the two followed his gaze.

“Me?” Sam said.

“Why do you have Danny’s Spectral Void?” Tucker asked.

Danny pointed to the screen next to it.

This one was also labeled Future: Ten Years and featured a destroyed city, but a young man was the ghost featured. He had the same skin and hair color as the woman, but his hair appeared to be thick braids of dripping goo and his eyes were deep violet. He was shirtless and wore dark grey pants with white boots and a large white belt. On the belt was a black buckle with a white T-logo that appeared to be made of lightning. He also wore white bracers on his forearms and a cape to match the woman’s. Cackling, he watched his own military adversaries get pulverized by bright green vines.

“And that would be me with Sam’s Wraith Snare,” Tucker added as they turned to the final screen.

Once more a destroyed city was labeled Future: Ten Years. This time the ghost was flying around as he tossed tanks about and blasted them apart with a bright green sonic attack. He was also a young man with pale teal skin and white hair, though his was made of flames. His eyes were blood red and he had a small goatee. He wore a suit that was primarily black, but with a white pattern on the sleeves that continued down the side of his abdomen. He also had white boots and belt alongside black gloves and the same cape as the two before. On his chest was a wispy white D-logo.

“Which leaves Danny with my Ghostly Wail,” Tucker finished.

“We look so cool,” Danny muttered as he stared up at the screens. When his partners immediately turned to look at him, he quickly added, “Except for the whole being evil thing.”

Sam knocked her shoulder against the smaller boy’s and looked back at the screens. “This… They can’t be us.”

“They aren’t.”

The trio spun around to see a ghost floating behind them.

He at first looked like an old man, but as he spoke he faded into a young child. “At least, not in this life.”

“What do you mean?” Danny asked as the trio readied themselves for a fight.

Instead, the ghost came over to float next to them, his eyes on the screens as he fiddled with the clock on his staff. “In these timelines, only one of you went into the portal in your parents’ lab.”

“Hold on, are you saying that if we hadn’t gone in together, we would have turned evil?” Sam said, eyes narrowed.

“Sometimes.” He hit a button on his staff and the screens changed.

Instead of lounging in a tree, Sam was defending a school bus from a giant hydra ghost. Her skin was a human tone only a few shades darker than her normal and her eyes were bright green. Her hair was the same as her evil version's, if longer, but her dress and cape had been replaced by black pants and a white crop top with bell sleeves. Green vines wove around her head in a crown of thorns.

Tucker was now facing off against what appeared to be a Skulker-Technus hybrid. His eyes were the same shade as Good Future Sam’s and his hair had remained the same as evil Tucker's while his skin was a darker human brown. His cape had been swapped out for a black muscle shirt and silver Egyptian-style necklace. Likewise, his bracers had been swapped out with silver vambraces with glittering green hieroglyphs engraved into them.

Good Future Danny was laughing as he dove around the attacks of a ghost that seemed to be composed entirely of the night sky except for a ram horn helmet. He also had skin similar to his human form’s and bright green eyes. His hair was shorter than his evil version’s had been, but just as fiery. His suit was now white with dark green diagonal designs. His boots, belt, and gloves were all black and he was the only one to still have a cape, though this one was made of white fur. There were also horns made of ice curling out of his hair.

“Sometimes you choose the right path,” the clock ghost said, aging up into an adult.

“I have horns!” Danny whispered.

“You’re getting way too into this,” Tucker said, nudging his side.

“Mind telling us why you brought us here?” Sam asked.

The ghost hummed and their evil versions took the screens again. “Individually, the three of you have the power to bring untold devastation to the Ghost Zone and wipe humanity from the face of the Earth.” He turned to them, fading back into an old man. “What do you think you could do together?”

The trio blanched and Sam shook her head. “That wouldn’t happen.”

“Wouldn’t it? Why not? It happens in other timelines.”

“So what? You brought us here to tell us we’re going to turn evil and destroy the world? Thanks. We’re leaving now.”

“I’ve brought you here to give you a warning,” the ghost said, focus completely on his staff and not the fuming halfa. He aged down to a child and continued, “Those who command me do not peer into the alternate times often and I have worked hard so that they should not see these, but that effort will not last forever. Should something not change, they will discover these chances and label you all too much of a risk. When that happens, I will be charged with the task of eliminating your future.”

“So you’re going to try to kill us in the future, good to know,” Sam said.

Tucker grabbed his partners as they both stepped forward to fight. “You said you were warning us, that something could change so you wouldn’t have to kill us. Could you tell us what that something is?”

He smirked.

The trio blinked and they were in Danny’s room.

“Is that a no?” Tucker asked.

“That ghost better not show his face again,” Sam huffed and tossed her backpack into the corner.

“Uh, guys,” Danny said and held up his hand.

Wrapped around his wrist was a watch he’d never seen before. It had a white square case and face with navy asteroids taking the place of the numbers and icy blue comets acting as hands. The band was white nylon with black constellations stitched in. On the watch’s crown, the letters W and C were interwoven together in navy.

“I think he left me a gift.”

His partners looked down to see similar watches on their own wrists.

Sam’s had a black ceramic band and case with a silver paint splatter design overtop. The face was round and violet with a silver spiderweb design that black spiders crawled across in the place of hands. The WC logo was also on its crown, in violet.

Tucker’s watch, unlike the other two’s, was digital. It had a silver rectangular face and case with white glowing numerals over a green old-school bezier screensaver. The band was grey silicone with white pixel hearts decorating it. The WC logo was on the button on the side in green.

Sam growled and tried to remove it, to no avail. There was no buckle and the band wouldn’t break. She could not phase through it or have it phase through her either. She transformed and while the watch didn’t leave, it did change.

The case was now a golden-brown and shaped like a gear. The face was black with traditional hands and numbers in electric blue. The WC logo was at the center of the face while the band was a dark metal.

It proved to be just as impossible to remove in this form and also appeared to be indestructible considering the small ecto-beam she shot at it did nothing.

The boys just watched her antics, though Danny did stop her from trying to shoot a larger beam at it (and therefore her arm) while Tucker transformed to see if his would change as well.

It matched hers perfectly in ghost form.

“He’s trying to turn us evil,” the two hissed.

“I really don’t think he is,” Danny said, rubbing Sam’s arms.

“It’s turning us evil.”

“You’re just upset.”

“We’re going to burn his tower to the ground. You know, he probably should have seen this coming if he can see into the future so he probably deserves it.”

“You’re not helping, Tuck.”

Tucker shrugged.

“Guess we’ve got some research to do now. On top of everything else we’ve still gotta do. To. The. Ground.”

{Identity Crisis, Part 1}

“What are you guys doing?” Jazz asked as she came into Danny’s room to see the trio curled up together on his bed with a book each.

“We finally caught all the ghosts that escaped,” Danny said. “Well, the ones worth catching at least.”

“Ones worth catching?”

“The ones who cause problems,” Tucker explained. “There are some ghosts we leave alone as long as they keep out of trouble. Like Poindexter’s cool and Johnny and Kitty are fine as long as they aren’t fighting with each other. We also made a deal with Ember since she got a gig at a bar downtown; as long as she doesn’t brainwash anyone she can stay.”

“There are also those that aren’t worth the time, like the Box Ghost,” Sam said. “We can leave him to your parents or Valerie.”

“Valerie doesn’t even bother with Boxy anymore,” Danny added.

“I think he’s got a job with a moving company now,” Tucker muttered. “Either that or they’re just using him as a mascot.”

“Anyways, we got everyone accounted for so we’ve got a ghost-free weekend to do some research on that clock ghost that kidnapped us,” Danny said.

Jazz frowned. “So the three of you are going to spend the whole weekend here, together, alone.”

“Yep.”

“Yeah, basically.”

“Until we find what we need to get these stupid watches off.”

She sighed and walked over to take their books.

“Hey!” they said together.

“You three need a break after the last couple weeks of insanity. That means no ghosts, no Doppelgänger, and most importantly, no each other.”

“What? Why?” they asked and she gave them a look.

“I kind of get the ghost part, but why no each other?” Danny asked.

“When was the last time you three spent more than twenty-four hours apart?”

“I went to some gala in California with my parents two weeks ago,” Sam said pointedly.

“And Tucker sent the whole weekend here playing video games. I’m asking about all three of you spending more than a day apart.”

The three frowned, staring at nothing.

Jazz gave them a moment, then nodded. “That’s what I thought.”

They shared a look.

“Well, the computer club was having a camp this weekend,” Tucker said.

“It’d be nice to spend the weekend with Val,” Danny offered.

“There is a sale at Skulk and Lurk this weekend,” Sam sighed.

“There you go then.” Jazz dropped the books onto Danny’s desk and pointed to the door. “Out.”

“You know, you’re his sister, not ours,” Sam muttered, but she and Tucker said their goodbyes and left.

Danny threw a pillow at his sister and grabbed his phone. “Why are you so bossy?”

“It’s not healthy to spend so much time around your partners. Especially considering your interwoven minds. It won’t hurt you to be apart now and then.”

“Yeah, yeah, now get out so I can text Val.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey, it’s Tucker, right?”

Tucker looked up to see a freshman he vaguely recognized standing over him. “Uh, yeah. You’re… Kira?”

“Kiran. Kiran Rizvi.”

“Right, sorry.” Tucker held his hand out to shake and looked over the freshman.

They were cute. Androdygenous, if leaning masculine, with rich brown skin. They looked like they were on the thinner side, but it was hard to tell with their baggy yellow hoodie. They had short black hair and a round face with bright green eyes.

Tucker put on a flirty smile, even as they ignored his hand and put their own on their chest. “Tucker Foley. So, you’re into computers then, Kiran?”

They shrugged and sat down next to him. “I’m more into computer games, but I wanted to learn how to build my own PC so I’ve been learning all I can. The computer I’ve got lags constantly, but I don’t have the money to buy a gaming PC.”

“Who does?” Tucker snorted. Well, Sam did, but even she knew the benefits of building over buying. “My partner introduced me to this company that’s got quality gear at good prices. Doomed never ran so smooth!”

“You play Doomed too? Did you see the new expansion pass?” Kiran said excitedly.

“The Netherworlds or the expanded Pride Armor selection?”

“I was talking about the Netherworlds but oh my gosh, the Pride Armor pack was great! Even if the stealth aspects are absolutely awful.”

“If there’s ever a reason to wish to be ace, it's when you’re running around in neon yellow, pink, and blue,” Tucker sighed.

“That sucks. At least my armor’s got some black and purple in it to balance out the yellow and white,” they chuckled and Tucker swooned.

Wow, they’re pretty when they laugh.

“Have you seen some of the designs online people have done for stealth versions of the armor?”

“Wh-Oh, yeah,” Tucker said, snapping himself out of it. “Yeah, my partner posted some she did of the Ace-Spec gear on her blog. I’ve been trying to work it into a mod for her for her birthday.”

“No way! Can I see?” they asked, leaning closer, and Tucker smiled.

“Yeah, sure.” He turned back to his laptop and tried to bring up the file, but it slowed down as he tried. “Crud, right, I forgot I was in the middle of fixing that.”

“What’s wrong?”

“This is my old one. I’ve been trying to fix it up to sell. Everything seems okay. I think there’s just some excess data in the cache slowing it down. I was just about to empty it when you came up.” He started the process then pulled out his phone to bring up the designs he was working on.

“There’s pizza in the other room,” the computer teacher, Mr. Göbel, called as he poked his head into the classroom.

Tucker and Kiran joined the rest of the club heading out of the room as Kiran looked over the designs and begged Tucker to send them the mod when he finished it.

A few moments later, an abandoned laptop began to glow before flying out the window.

[ayamari-no-goshi]

Eidolon 2 | (T)

ff.net | AO3

Fandom: Danny Phantom (DP)

Summary:  AU: What started off as the result of a simple act of rebellion ends up causing his life to spin out of control. How will young Danny cope with the results as well as a past that has a strange habit of coming back to haunt him.

Warnings: rated T for violence, mentions of death, kidnapping, and various other things

Parings: hints of Danny/Sam much later on

Notes: originally uploaded to Ff.net. Cross-posted to AO3 and tumblr.

2. Complications

"Daniel… May I come in?" Winston asked as he knocked on his charge's door about an hour after the two had returned home. He had sent the boy to his room as soon as they walked in for two separate reasons. The first was punishment; Danny had snuck out of the house after all. The second was that it would give Winston a little bit of time to gather his thoughts so that he could hopefully handle the situation.

A muffled reply answered him after a moment. It was probably a 'no', but that was pushed aside as he opened the door. He was a little surprised to see that the room was a mess; random items, mostly clothes, had been scattered, more likely thrown, around the room. The perpetrator was sitting on his bed and seemed rather angry that he had been interrupted. The boy had thrown a rather impressive tantrum, which was surprising, since Winston really hadn't heard anything. Perhaps he had been more distracted than he thought.

The older man sighed as he sat down on the bed while ignoring the glares that were being sent his way. "I know you're upset…" Well, that wasn't the best way to start things off.

The boy snorted. "Wow, aren't you perceptive."

Sarcasm, of course. Sometimes he swore that was the boy's native language, but he was going to have to ignore that at the moment, there were more important things at hand. "Could you please stop for just a moment and listen? You can cuss me out later." He hoped that his tone didn't have any anger (or much) in it, even if he had added an uncommon note of command.

Danny continued to glare at him, but he didn't say anything, which Winston took as a cue to continue. "I know that it's definitely hard for a boy your age to be kept in the house most of the time… However, we have a bit of a current situation…"

"Situation…?" the boy asked as he narrowed his eyes. "What kind?"

"It's not too bad…" Winston glanced upwards for a moment before he continued, a little surprised that he had the boy's attention. "…Hopefully…" There was a momentary pause before he continued. "I recently got a call from the state… From what I understand, some of the documents of your adoption have gone missing. They're going to be sending a case worker out to evaluate our current situation. If everything checks out, we'll be able to fix this and go on as if nothing happened…"

Danny was silent for a moment. His expression changed from that of skepticism to concern. "And what if this case worker guy doesn't like what he sees…?"

It was Winston's turn to look troubled. "Then it spells bad news for us. It could turn into a custody battle." He then reached over and placed his hand on the boy's shoulder. "Don't worry; I won't let it come to that. Can you promise me something though? Until this whole mess gets sorted out, can you please not sneak out of the house again?"

"What's that got to do with anything?"

Winston repressed the urge to roll his eyes. "Think about it for a moment. What happens if someone ends up calling the police because of… who knows? With what's going on right now, it could make this situation worse! I promised your parents that I'd take care of you, and I'll be damned if a stupid move on your part because of your 'rebellious phase' makes me break that."

"But what about Sam and Tucker? It's not like I can just disappear from them now, especially with how angry Sam was earlier."

What was it about teenagers that seemed to make them try and bring others into their arguments? However, this was something that he couldn't really ignore. Sure, he could tell Danny that he couldn't see them until after everything was situated with the state (or at all), but that would just backfire on him. Danny would become even more put out and probably sneak out again in spite. Or his anger could come across as something else when the case worker came, which would definitely not be good.

But that wasn't all that could go wrong. If he wasn't mistaken, that Sam girl was the daughter of the Mansons, a very powerful family with lots of connections. If she happened to say anything to them, it could cause them to get involved and launch their own investigation. The rumors around town said that she wasn't on the best of terms with them, but judging by how willful she seemed, she might actually use her power. That, by itself, could pose the biggest problem at the moment.

Instead of answering him immediately, Winston decided to ask a question of his own. "How are you sure you can trust them?" It definitely caught the boy off guard. He let him flounder around a bit before he decided to take the pressure away. "You just met them, so of course you really can't tell yet. …I guess that means that you'll just have to get to know them better." He thought about it a moment. "It's going to be fall soon, so they're probably back to school already. Thankfully, tomorrow's Sunday…"

"Wait… What did you say…?" Danny's eyes were wide with surprise and disbelief.

The expression was priceless which made it difficult for Winston to keep his tone even. "A boy your age should have friends. I'm still not very pleased that you snuck out again, but I think that I'll let it pass this time. We will have to work out times for you to go out, since I don't know when we're going to get that visit… but we can work on that tomorrow."

It was amazing what that simple statement did to the boy. It turned him from a brooding angsty… (was that the right word…? Was that even a word?) teenager to an overly thankful kid. He chuckled as he excited the room to allow Danny to revel in his victory.

With what the next few weeks were going to have in store for him, it was important that he at least had something good. When he had told Danny there was a situation, he hadn't lied… It was just that it was direr than he had mentioned. Winston only wished he knew how the state managed to find out. He knew that it had been a possibility… but after so many years, he thought it would no longer be a problem.

Then, there was the boy's birthday to consider. It was probably going to fall in the middle of all of this, which was definitely going to make the situation worse. And, if what he had been told was correct, then that date would add an entirely new dimension of problems.

He sighed as he massaged his temple. There was just so much that had to be kept secret, and it was all about to come out. Hopefully, Danny would find it in his heart to forgive him for all of the deception.

Eventually.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

There was no way that he had managed to be that lucky! Winston hadn't even grounded him! He was so happy that he was honestly thinking about shouting for joy, even if it really wasn't too dignified. There was only one problem with this…. How was he going to be able to contact Sam and Tucker again? It wasn't like he knew their numbers or even where they lived. Maybe it wasn't as good of a deal as he had originally thought.

He growled in frustration as he punched the wall. Winston had just humored him! He knew that he probably wasn't going to be able to see them again which was why he was so lenient! Danny wanted to kick himself for being so stupid. A pyrrhic victory, that's what this was.

The question now was what was he going to do about this? There was no way that he was going to let Winston get away with this. Who cared if that worker… or whatever… was coming? That was still a few weeks away. Or never... That whole story could have been created just to give him a reason to act better.

He glanced at the clock; it was nearly eight. Good! Winston had a habit of doing paper work from around that time to when he went to bed. He knew that the man did something for the school district but though he was not entirely sure of the specifics. Whatever it was, it definitely took a lot of time out of his day. When he was much younger, he used to hate that, but today, it was going to be a blessing.

About a half an hour later, after he was sure that Winston was occupied with his work, he snuck out of the house, via his window, for the second time that day. Once he made sure that he hadn't accidentally alerted his guardian, he immediately headed towards the graveyard. They had been there once…. Maybe they'd be there again.

…..

On second thought… maybe this wasn't such a good idea.

Usually, at least to him, the local graveyard was a rather peaceful place, but this time, it was anything but that. In the setting sun, the beautiful and watchful statues were now little more than leering and grotesques figures. There was also a strange, unnerving chill in the air that seemed to displace any sense of solace he might find. Something was definitely off. It was almost as if the uneasy feeling he had gotten earlier in the day had suddenly decided to multiply a thousand times. He knew it was probably safer to listen to his instinct and leave, but he wanted to be there in case they did come back.

A sudden rustling of leaves caught his attention, causing his eyes to narrow as he glanced around. There was no wind, and there did not seem to be any people in the area. It was most likely just an animal… Glancing over his shoulder, he decided to head back towards the entrance. If anything, Sam and Tucker would probably stay around that area.

He probably shouldn't wait much longer anyways; no more than another hour. Night had finally descended allowing the shadows to come out of hiding and dominate the world. There were few lights in the cemetery which allowed the darkness to feel more pressing. Most people would steer clear of such locations. It was safer that way since it was difficult to tell what could be lurking within the safety of the shadows.

Wait… Was there someone actually out there? He could have sworn that he heard something that sounded like quiet chuckling. Yet, after waiting a moment, there was no other sound. His nerves were starting to get to him. He knew this place. Nothing bad had ever happened. The sound had probably just carried from somewhere. Even so, it wouldn't hurt to move a little faster.

"Leaving so soon, boy…?"

He spun around and searched the area. There was no way that voice had carried; it sounded like it had come from somewhere nearby. "H-hello…?" he replied shakily. Who had called out to him? It sounded male… but it did not belong to anyone he knew. What made it worse was that it was difficult to pinpoint. It was almost as if it had come out of nowhere. "Is…. Is someone there…?"

Silence was the only response. "That's it… I'm losing my mind…" he told himself after a few long minutes. Once again, he scanned the area. He was about to start moving again when he caught movement at the edge of his vision. "What was that…?" Fear had begun to grip him. There was no way that was just a local animal. No, this was way too large. Whatever it was, it was probably not friendly.

Another noise broke into his train of thoughts. Without a second thought, he ran as fast as he could towards the other sound. His footfalls were heavy, a dead give away to whomever… whatever… was out there. Its shadow seemed to ghost in and out of his line of sight as he ran, almost as if to let him know that there was no way that he could ever outrun it. He could feel its amusement in its movements. This was nothing more than a game to it; a game that he could not win. Even if that was the case, he was going to do whatever it took to try.

His only hope was to try to get to his goal, the cemetery gates. He had thought that he had heard other people in that direction. His fiercely beating heart and spastic breathing made it difficult to concentrate on the voices, but they did seem like they were getting louder. He was getting closer! He needed to reach them! He had to reach them!

As he neared the gates, he saw two figures illuminated by one of the few cemetery lights. A boy and girl… Sam and Tucker! They had come after all! They looked somewhat weary… maybe they could actually hear him running. He called out, somehow, and they saw him.

There was only about a hundred more yards before he reached them and the edge of the light. He tried to push himself just a little more when his feet failed him. Ignoring the injuries from the paved walkway, he glanced backwards and tried to get up. It was still there! Its shadow was now in the trees.

"Danny! Are you okay?"

He jumped. The voice was right on top of him. He glanced back towards his new friends only to realize that they were within mere feet of him. When did they get so close? But he could not think about that now, he had made a horrible mistake! "You… got to… get out of here…!" It was hard to speak while he was so out of breath, but they had to be warned! They didn't know what was out there!

"Dude, what's wrong?" Tucker was clearly worried as he watched Sam help him up.

It was getting harder to breathe. His body was screaming for air causing the edges of his vision to darken. "It's… not safe…!" he tried to tell them between gasps. "Go…!"

"Danny, breathe!" Sam told him sharply, which he ignored as he glanced back in the direction of his pursuer. Worried, she took his face between her hands so that she could get him to look at her. "Calm down! What's wrong?"

Before he had a chance to speak, Tucker started to stammer. Both he and Sam looked over to see him pointing at something within the darkness. "Wh-what's that?"

He looked in the direction and saw two small lights of vivid crimson coming from the shadows. There was no movement for a moment before the lights seemed to narrow. The sight sent a chill down into his very core. They were eyes!

"So…You've found comfort in the arms of friends…" It was the same voice from earlier. Unlike before, when it seemed like it could have been coming from anywhere; it had a point of origin somewhere near the crimson orbs. "Enjoy it while it lasts…" The voice then laughed as it faded away, taking the lights with it.

When he finally could exhale, he collapsed on the ground. His body was absolutely drained from the combined strain of his fear and flight. Was that thing actually gone? It did not feel like it… However, that did not mean very much. It could still be there, just waiting in the shadows for them to turn their backs.

"W-what was that thing…? Why was it chasing you? What were those lights?" Tucker then paused for a moment after his spastic string of questions as he looked at him carefully. "…Why are you here anyways?"

He chuckled weakly as he allowed his friends to help him up. "I could ask you the same thing." A wary sigh escaped him as he nervously glanced into the shadows. "I was hoping that I'd be able to run into you guys again… And then that thing appeared…. I… I honestly have no idea what it was."

"Hate to interrupt," Sam told him in a tone that was oddly mixed with sarcasm and irritation as she pointed in the direction of where they had seen the odd lights. "But… newsflash: there's something out there that's unknown and potentially dangerous. We should probably get out of here before it decides to come back." There was a silent agreement before the three of them sprinted as far away from the graveyard as they could.

…

"So… now what?" Tucker asked as they caught their breaths on a lit street corner several blocks away from the cemetery gates. It didn't seem like they had been followed by whatever it was that they had seen, but there was still an uneasy feeling lurking in the air.

"You're asking me?" he replied in near disbelief as he leaned against the light pole. "I still can't stand without help, let alone think straight! Great…how am I going to be able to get home and sneak back into the house like this?"

His words were met with a disbelieving look. "Wait… You snuck out, again? Do you seriously hate your house that much?" Even though they had just been scared out of their minds, Tucker had managed to calm down enough to joke. He wasn't sure if he found that relieving or insulting. Before he could make up his mind, Sam knocked his beret off. "What was that for?"

"Tucker, this isn't the time!" She scowled at him for a moment before she glanced over at Danny. "But, that does bring up a good point… Do you think that you'll be able to meet us here tomorrow?"

"Sure… " he replied hesitantly, "…as long as I'm able to get back into the house without being caught. Why?"

A strange expression appeared on her face, making him uneasy. "I don't like being scared. So, I'm gonna find whoever that was and teach them a lesson, and you two are going to help me do it?"

He and Tucker shared a look before they both asked, "We're going to help you do what?"

[mollymarymarie]

Come On Back To Me

I know, I know. This isn’t Wolfstar (which is, like 99% of what my life is made of), but my PSM (@sparrowof-thedawn) commissioned me to write some smut about Sam Kiszka (bass player from Greta Van Fleet), and I WENT OFF on it. I have a soft spot for boys in bands.  

Obviously the smut means NSFW, so use caution, friends. Also, I go through a bit of set-up, so give it a minute. 

“I don’t have time to think about it, that’s all there is to it,” you say with the smile that you were accustomed to plastering on, a smile that was becoming increasingly more common. A smile that covered the tired ache constantly hiding behind your lips.  

“No,” your best friend, Casey replies with that sarcastic drip to her voice that assures you know she is about to side-step all your bullshit. “You’re not willing to make the time.”

You take a long sip of the Americano in your hand, rolling your eyes dramatically from across the table at Starbucks. The smile on your lips became a little more genuine. It had been weeks since the two of you had been able to spend any time together at all, both of you doing medical residencies in completely different cities. It was a stark and unwelcome contrast from your school days, when you spent nearly every waking hour together.

“Easy for you to say, you live with yours. He’s literally at arm’s length every time you turn around,” you say with a scoff in your tone. You would never undermine the struggle that Casey and her husband had gone through to be together, but she still couldn’t argue that point. She could sit there and tell you that you would find someone eventually, that you would settle down, that you would find happiness, but she had found hers relatively early. They had been together for so long, Casey didn’t even know what dating meant right now.

“I know,” she says, an irritated growl forming in the back of her throat. She knows she’s losing this argument, so she turns to sentiment to win. “You just can’t see what you have. You’re too focused on what you think other people think you lack.”

“Oh?” you laugh bitterly, throwing up a dark, high-arching brow in disbelief. Again, an easy point for her to make in defense. She wasn’t the one whose last relationship ended in flames because her boyfriend of two years decided the distance was too much and their history wasn’t enough. Granted, it had been over a year since they broke up, but the point remained.

“Yes,” she insists with an exaggerating hiss. “First of all, let’s ignore looks, shall we?”

“We’d have to,” you mutter into your paper cup.

“I heard that, shut the fuck up,” she quips immediately with a snap of her fingers, in some dangerous border between playful and murderous. “There is so much magic in you, fam. You graduated with a doctorate, so you’re hella smart. You give your best friend pep talks when she goes through her third nervous breakdown of the month. You continue to love with your whole life despite all the shit that people have given you,” she clears her throat and you hear the name of your ex not-so-subtly buried in the cough that followed. You roll your eyes again.

“Which doesn’t matter because all people see is this,” you say, gesturing down your torso with both hands. Across the table, Casey’s mouth snaps shut and her eyes narrow.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Everybody wants a skinny super model. And I am not.”

“Neither the fuck am I!” she shouts, gathering the attention of damn near everyone in the coffee shop with you. For an introvert, she tends to be rather vocal. “If you’re an eclectic taste, then so am I. Still a lot of people that have the tattoo stigma, you know.” Off-handedly, she brushes over the bursts of color inked across her shoulders.

“But that’s a choice you made. I didn’t make the choice to be my size.”

“Same, though?” she said, her features softening a bit. “Literally the only reason I’m sort of thin is because of the celiac with my total shit diet,” she says with a smirk. “But it also gives me really bad skin and this stupid belly pooch that I’ll never get rid of and super thin hair.”

“Which you can –”she interrupts your argument.

“You, on the other hand,” she leans in, placing her face into her hands, propped up on the tabletop. “Look at you. Curls for miles, dark and silky and defined. Hair that a guy could lose a hand in and would be grateful to.” With one hand, you subconsciously twirl your hair around it in a whirl before tossing it over your shoulder. “You skin is nearly flawless, dotted with freckles like the damn stars in the sky but twice as beautiful.” You could feel a blush creeping up from the base of your throat. Your platonic soulmate had always had a way with words. There’s a reason people mistake you for a couple, more often than not.

She continues. “Your lips are so much fuller than mine and when you put on that deep red color, Jesus H. Christ, if I was into girls.”

“You are into girls.”

“It’s a figure of speech.”

“You literally could’ve just said ‘if I was single’.” An expression crosses over her face, all pursed lips and puffed cheeks, like being single was so unrealistic of an option (she’s sickeningly in love with her spouse, it’s disgusting) that she hadn’t even considered that. In her defense, she had figured out the bisexual thing pretty late in the game, long after she was married.

“Shut up,” she laughs, high and bright. “The point is you are young and beautiful and you have time.” You open your mouth to argue, but she speaks first. “You will have time, after this residency. Literally the only time I see James right now is for dinner and sex.”

“Separately, I hope,” you laugh against the lip of your coffee cup.

“You’d be surprised and disgusted by how often they overlap,” she says, raising her left brow. It’s like a bizarre innuendo trademark. If she’s making a sex joke, that eyebrow goes up and it’s so sharply pointed that it just makes her expression look so much more scandalous.

“I don’t even want that. I’m not even interested in the sex. Just the company.”

“Bless your little grace soul. The company is the best part, anyway,” she says with a shrug, taking the last sip of her chai latte. “Speaking of company, you still talking to Sammy?”

You roll your eyes again, wondering if you could do permanent damage with how often you’ve used those muscles in the last ten minutes. “No, I don’t talk to Sam anymore.”

“Wait, wait, hold on. Since, uh, when?” she asks with a twirl of her finger.

“Do you know who Sam is now?” you say with a sarcastic huff. “He’s not Sammy Boy from undergrad anymore. He’s Sam Fucking Kiszka and he’s been on SNL and he’s touring with Greta and he’s probably with a different girl every night and those girls don’t look like me.”

“I swear to God, I’ll murder you in your sleep tonight if you keep this up.”

“You know what I mean.” Irritation seeps into your voice. You love your PSM, but she doesn’t get this. If anything, she was probably Sam’s type when you were all hanging out together in your little college town. Sure, there was that one night, but you were drunk, and Sam was drunk, and nothing happened. It certainly seemed that way the next morning, anyway, considering it was something that neither of you ever brought up again.

 ----------------- 

“I’m gonna give you my love!” Sam was yelling-slash-singing Led Zeppelin at the top of his lungs again and if it wasn’t so damn adorable, it would be annoying. Hell, if it was anyone else, it would be annoying, but it’s Sam and, unfortunately for you, you’re rather smitten with Sam.

“I’m taking this away from you,” Casey whispers with a syrupy smile as she slipped the square bottle out from Sam’s fingers. He barely even noticed.

“Oh, let him sing. It’s our last night together,” you say with a sigh, trying not to focus too much on that part. Tomorrow, you’d be moving to a new town, a bigger town, to start med school and Sam and his brothers (including Danny) would be setting out on their first tour.

It was a pretty fucking big deal, actually. GVF had been getting a lot of attention lately, so this first tour was sort of a long-play audition for some big-shot record executive and, if they did well, they were golden. And you knew they would do well because that’s what they always do.

“Hang on, stop right there,” Sam calls out, buried somewhere in a laugh, “You hate my singing.” With that look on his face that often showed up in your dreams, Sam saunters over to you, one of his dark eyebrows raised to its full capacity, his ever-lengthening brown hair, streaked with highlights given to him by the sun, falling down over the sharp edges of his cheeks.

“I don’t hate it,” you say under your breath as you take another sip from the tumbler in your hand. It was more like a gulp. This close, Sammy tends to make you nervous.

“You really are going to miss me, aren’t you?” From where you’re leaning against the kitchen counter, Sam encircles you with his arms, holding himself just far enough away that you could still smell the whiskey on his breath, the floral notes from the product in his hair.

“I’ll hardly notice you’re missing,” you lie, blatantly.

“That’s not what Casey tells me,” he says under a knowing smirk and you shoot a glare at your best friend, who gives you a brazen wink in return, lip curled up and everything, just before she vanishes into the living room to find her significant other.

“Casey is a damn liar,” you reply with a laugh and try to ignore what looks like adoration in Sammy’s expression at the sound of happiness in your voice. You read too far into him.

“Who else is going to give you shit for getting the only A on a test that everyone else failed? And don’t say Casey because she wasn’t in that class or she would’ve had an A, too.” As he speaks, his arms curl in until he’s nearly pressed against you. God, you wish he would let go.

“What about you?” you strike back, poking him in the chest and wishing you could spread your fingers out over his sharply defined collarbones pushing back from beneath his shirt. “Who will be there to make fun of you for dancing to Whitney Houston when no one is watching?”

He wrinkles his nose at you, and you melt a little inside. “Whitney is an icon, alright?”

“So I’ll miss you. A little.” You roll your eyes. You do that a lot in Sam’s direction. “Not like you. You won’t even remember my name a month from now.” The playful spark in Sam’s eyes goes out like a doused flame. In fact, he physically startles a little, pushing back from you.

“Won’t even remember your name?” he repeats with what sounds like hurt in his voice, but you know better than that. You feel like you’re always giving Sam feelings that he doesn’t have for you, hearing intonations in his voice that aren’t there, reading into little things he does that probably don’t have meaning to him. “Is that what you really think of me?”

You backtrack a little, concerned with this change in mood. “You’ll be too busy to miss me, Sam. A different city every night, a different party every night, a different girl.” That last part, you add under your breath, certain he’s too drunk to catch it, anyway.

“You realize that outside of the band, you and Casey and James are my best friends, right? We’ve been friends for the last four years. But you think I won’t even remember your name.” He pushes away from you, storming around the kitchen as he drags his hands through his thick, wavy hair, and you’re left to stand in stunned silence. Sam doesn’t get angry. Not like this.

“It was a joke, Sammy,” you say, even though it certainly hadn’t been a joke when you said it. It was actually the worst of your fears and it had been consuming you for weeks.

“No, I think you mean that,” Sam says, his voice escalating a bit as he circles the island of your kitchen, hands still buried in his hand, coming back to where you’re still standing.

“Alright, maybe a little bit, but I mean,” a blush bubbles up to encompass your face, knowing what you’re about to say to this boy you’ve had a crush on for four years, “Look at you.”

Sam stops in front of you. Stares at you. You squirm a bit under it. “I’m too busy looking at you,” he retorts, his eyes traveling across the features of your face. You see them settling over a patch of freckles underneath your eye, following them over the bridge of your nose to the mirrored opposite side. His eyelashes are so long, so dark that when he lowers his head to look at you through them, it darkens his gaze, hollowing his warm brown eyes until his pupils look blown wide. This is the way you always imagined him looking at you, but never thought possible.

“Not much to see,” you reply, a defense mechanism. With a snarl, his lip twitches up over his canines, they glint in the low light of the kitchen, the moonlight coming in from outside.

“How are you so goddamn stubborn?” he huffs out, slipping his hand along your neck, underneath the curtain of your dark curls, his thumb settling over your windpipe. He leans forward, unsettling your lips with his own, just slightly. The bittersweet of the whiskey is still on his lips and, you find out, on his tongue, as he deepens the kiss and pulls you close.

But he’s right. You’re stubborn. You’re so stubborn, he’s too drunk, and you’re both leaving. Doing this now doesn’t mean a fucking thing. You pull away, cursing yourself. Cursing him for waiting this long. Cursing the universe for making him who he is and you who you are.

“Wow, you’ve had way too much to drink, Sammy,” you laugh off, playfully pushing him toward the living room, where you knew, by now, Casey and James had crashed on the couch. “I think you’d better sleep it off. I’ll see you in the morning.” Quickly, you escape to your bedroom, where you fully convince yourself that it could’ve been anyone. He would’ve kissed anyone.

You don’t cry, you don’t often give yourself that luxury, but you do let yourself take a mental catalogue of this taste in your mouth. Warm, sharp, aching. And so, so bitter.

 ---------------- 

The coffee date and the dinner and the shopping were over far too soon. Work started again the next morning, Casey was back in a town that was too fucking far away, and you were left in your one-bedroom apartment that felt too small and too big all at the same time.

Until your phone vibrated on the bedside table. In the dark, it lit up the whole room. Your cat scurried away from it in a panic from the unexpected noise it brought to the silence. For a moment, you considered just leaving it until morning. It most likely wasn’t work – this wasn’t your on-call weekend anyway. It could’ve been Casey, but she’d gotten home several hours before (which you knew because you always forced her to text when she made it).

Whoever it was could wait. For now, you just wanted to be alone. No, that wasn’t quite right. You wanted to be alone with someone, but there was nobody to be alone with. It was just you and you cat, Mickie, like it was every night, like it had been every night for almost a year.

Despite yourself, you glanced over. It was a Snap. That alone was enough to pique your interest. Casey hardly ever sent an unsolicited Snap (she only kept it because of you, and she only replied to keep up the streak), and there weren’t a lot of people who would send you a Snap at this hour (it was almost two in the morning) on a Sunday night.

Curiosity got the better of you. You unlock your phone and pull down the notifications bar. The Snap is from Sammy. Your thumb hovers over the notification for an embarrassingly long time. By then, it had been weeks since you last talked to Sam.

Against your better judgement, you open the Snap. Immediately, a soft smile rushes over your face, a blush trailing closely behind it. It’s Sam – a selfie of Sam on stage with the neck of his bass in one hand, the phone in the other, and a screaming crowd behind him.

 The tagline reads, “Missing you more than you think.”

 Goddammit. God fucking dammit. What the shit was he trying to do? You had already convinced yourself to forget about the kiss, to forget about your feelings, to forget about Sammy. He’d made it difficult – he kept in near constant contact with you since undergrad. It was going on five years later, and you still talked to him daily. Sometimes, it was only a text, sometimes it was only a picture, rarely there was a phone call (which were always very awkward because you’re good with words on a screen, but in person, not so much).

Every now and then, only a handful of times over the last five years, you and Sam got to see each other in person. Sometimes it was at a GVF show, sometimes it was with a group of friends. Once, he showed up at your apartment with no warning. That one was rough, but ultimately, nothing happened. Nothing ever happened. It had always never happened.

Finally, you had decided. It was enough. Nothing would ever happen with Sam. Maybe it would make you a bad friend for cutting off contact with him completely, but it was so fucking hard to talk to him every single day and not imagine what things could’ve been like if you hadn’t pushed him away that night. If he hadn’t left, if you hadn’t left. If you started something sooner.

The texts from Sam slowed to a stop, eventually. Until now. It was so frustrating, because you knew, absolutely, without a doubt, even if he remembered the kiss, it was just a kiss. No meaning, no feelings. Just a drunken kiss between two friends. That’s what it was to him.

You consider not replying. You consider removing him from your Snapchat. You even went so far as to consider blocking him. But you couldn’t do that. As hard as it was, you could never stop being in love with Sam. Oh, fuck. That’s what this is. You’re in love with him.

With a deep breath, you hold your phone out, the front-facing camera on, and you flick on the lamp next to your bed. In the low, yellow lamplight, you place your curls just right, tilt your head just right, open your mouth just enough, and snap. No filters, no fillers. Just you.

 In the caption, you write: “Sorry for the radio silence. I miss you, too.” Send.

 Even though his picture was from stage, you knew the show had long been over. You had an internal clock for what time of night he was usually on stage (most often so you would know when to expect a text or a call), and you faithfully followed the cities in the tour. Well, you used to. The tour he was on now was mostly a mystery ever since you’d cut him out of your life.

It’s mere seconds before you get a Snap back. This one is in real time. No stage, no lights, no fans. Just Sammy. His chocolate brown eyes look up, right into the lens of the camera, leaving you to draw in a sharp, unsteady breath. His hair is longer now, still kissed with sunlight, tossed in front of both broad shoulders. He’s wearing that same denim shirt from the night you kissed five years ago, but the top four buttons are open, showcasing the strong, sharp cords of muscle that run along his throat and meet in the center, just between his collarbones.

 It reads: “God, it’s good to see your face.”

 Fuck. This Snap was calculated. He sent this with purpose. He had to know what this would incite. Sure, that kiss hadn’t ended to anyone’s satisfaction five years ago, but he had to know, right? He had to know that you didn’t want to stop him that night, right?

Fuck it. Two could play at his game. With your heart beating in your throat, you crane your neck down into your pillow, arranging your curls to look artfully splayed around your temples, and you turn your head away from the camera, the collar of the T-shirt that you had fallen asleep in stretched out to give him a good view of the nape of your neck.

 “Yours is still as cute as ever.”

 This was a huge risk. In all the time that you’d known Sammy, you had never once admitted to anything. Never admitted that he was cute, never admitted to that kiss, never admitted to your crush. And you just had, accompanied by a slightly uninhibited photo.

His reply is immediate. The photo of him is hardly different, his eyes are a little wider, his brows are raised a little higher, his mouth is hanging slightly ajar. But it’s not the photo that catches your attention. It’s the message attached to it.

 “I’m in town. Are you home?”

 Oh, shit. Shit, shit, shit. You should have followed their touring schedule more closely, you would’ve been more prepared for this. Fuck. Your mind races through a thousand different scenarios. Is he reading into these Snaps the same way you are? Does he realize what a 2AM visit to a girl at her apartment alone implies? Sammy was always oblivious, but not that oblivious.

You Snap back a blank picture, a black screen of the inside of your palm. You’re losing your nerve a bit, but you still have the guts to reply, making every implication crystal clear.

 “Home alone. Want to come over?”

 Initially, your realization that you were gray-asexual was kind of a strange awakening, but it made absolute sense to you, once it was explained fully. And it fit. You don’t often experience a need for physical intimacy, not the way most people do. It comes and goes (sometimes at random), and you can usually take care of that rare need yourself and then get on with your life.

Except when it came to Sam. He was always the exception. Random men could express interest in you, in your body, and you remined neutral. There wasn’t that spark with them, with strangers. But that spark grew into a wildfire with Sammy. The more you knew about him, the more you fell in love with him, and the more you wanted from him. With him.

Your phone lights up the room again. You expected another Snap, but it’s a call. From Sammy. You answer without hesitating, anxious to hear what his voice sounds like, whether there’s an ache hiding in his throat, whether he sounds like he wants you like you want him.

“Hi, Sammy,” you say into the receiver. He breaths out.

“Hi,” he replies, all breath. “I’m three minutes away. I was going to wait until I got there, but I felt like I’d forget everything I wanted to say when I got there.”

“Everything you wanted to say?” you repeat carefully, hoping the things that he wanted to say aligned with the things you wanted to hear.

“I don’t know what I did, but I know I must’ve done something to make you stop talking to me. It’s a typical male cliché, I know, but I want you to tell me. I want to fix it.” There’s a whine in his voice that you’ve never heard before and, while you want to make it go away, you also really like the sound that it makes coming up from his throat.

“You didn’t do anything, Sammy,” you sigh into the phone, propping your head up in your head, your elbow buried deep in the pillow. “It was me. I had to stop.”

“If it was because of that kiss, I …” he trails off, as if unsure if he’s supposed to apologize for that night. “No, fuck that, I’m not sorry for that. I will say I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable, but I –” You try to interject, unsuccessfully.

“It wasn’t that, I just –”

“I won’t apologize for thinking about that kiss every night for the last 5 years.” You go quiet, listening to Sammy breathe raggedly on the other end. “But I need to know.” He pauses for such a long time that you would’ve thought the call disconnected, if not for the static in the silence and the breaths that filled the dead air. “Did I go too far that night?”

After barely a pause, you answer. “No.” But you can’t convince yourself to say more.

“Then why did you push me away?” That whine resurfaces in his voice and you want to say anything to make it go away, because right now, it sounds a lot like hurt.

“Because I didn’t think I could have you.” A deep breath passes through your lips as you close your eyes. This isn’t really the conversation you wanted to have with him just now.

“Was it because I was leaving? Because we were both leaving,” he tries to explain the frailty in that argument, and he was right. It hadn’t just been him that was leaving you back then.

“Yes, that, but …” Your voice trails off, not wanting to finish that thought. This is the part where everything gets awkward, because these aren’t things you ever wanted to admit to Sammy. You didn’t want to tell him that he was way out of your league, or that he deserved someone better than you, or that you weren’t sure you could always give him what he needed. Because, yes, Sam was your exception, and you wanted him in ways that you wanted nobody else, but it might not always be that way. Sammy deserved someone who wanted to give him everything, always, all of the time. No strings, no exceptions, no restrictions.

“But what?” he insists gently, and you realize you’re going to have to spell it out for him.

“Sammy,” you say, your voice quivering. “I’m not pretty enough for you.” An angry breath comes from Sammy’s end just before the line goes dead. You hold the phone out. Call ended.

An impatient knock at your front door sends panic into your chest and you try to ease your shaking hands, but it’s unsuccessful. As you make your way to the front door, you try to smooth out the curls of your hair, you tug at your T-shirt to cover more of your legs, even though you have a pair of shorts on underneath. Sammy hasn’t ever seen you like this and it’s terrifying.

The moment you unlock the door, Sam doesn’t hesitate. His hands are against your face and he’s pulling you against him, and you let him. God, you let him. His lips eagerly find their way to yours and his tongue follows quickly after, exploring and tasting and moaning.

Jesus, the sounds from his throat are indecent. Obscene. The sounds your mouths make together are explicit. As he crosses the threshold to your apartment, he kicks the door closed behind him and pulls you back with him, letting you press him against the door. At first, you stop yourself from putting all of your weight against him, you ease back, but he’s ten steps ahead of you, and he’s already considered everything that might hold you back.

His fingers bury themselves underneath the hem of your shirt, sliding up around your ribcage and he tightens his grip. Your feet unsteady underneath you and you fall into him. He doesn’t make a sound other than the satisfied hum escaping through your joined lips.

“God, your skin is so fucking soft,” he breaths into your mouth just before he violently pulls the shirt over your head, only to let his lips travel down the expanse of your neck. You tilt your head to let him at whatever skin he wants to put his mouth on.

It turns out, Sammy is keen to put his mouth on every possible inch of your skin. Without letting his mouth part from yours, he walks you back toward your bedroom, and the two of you trip on everything in the path there. With every stumble, Sammy laughs against your lips, both of you working on unfastening the buttons of his denim shirt. Eventually, he sheds it on your bedroom floor, and you let your hands explore the uncharted areas of his bare chest.

His eyes stay locked onto yours as he coaxes you onto the bed, where he kneels with one of your legs in between his. As he leans down to slip his tongue into your mouth again, you feel him pressed hard to your thigh, and he curves his hips up to get more friction.

When his lips move down, kissing along the edges of your black bra, he slips his hands underneath you, unclasping the hooks of that bra. As he starts to pull it away, you hold it to your chest, a bright pink blush blooming in your cheeks. His expression softens as he places his hand over yours, leaning down to place a delicate kiss to your nose.

“I don’t get it,” he says with a soft laugh. His hands, with yours inside it, move up, until he has them pinned above your head. “How do you not see what I see?”

“What do you see?” you ask, a hushed tone that doesn’t sound like your voice floats out.

A smile crosses Sammy’s lips as he pulls away the fabric concealing you, letting his eyes flutter down your bare chest. At the sight of your uncovered skin, he darts his tongue out to wet his lips before pulling his bottom lip into his teeth, his pupils dark and wide. His fingers follow the path that his eyes forge for them and you arch into his touch at your breast.

His eyes glance up to meet yours again. “I see skin that deserves to be kissed until it trembles underneath my lips. Skin that forms a beautiful shape with hills and valleys and stories and songs. Skin that holds the soul of the woman I have been in love with for longer than she would ever believe because she is so stubborn,” he smiles, peppering soft, tender kisses to the skin he so poetically described. “Christ, is she stubborn,” he laughs.

“No more than you,” you pout playfully as he works to remove the rest of your clothes and you’re much less reluctant to let him. When you are laid bare, he sheds his own clothes and you marvel at the sight of him, sun-kissed and naked and absolutely fucking magnificent.

“I meant what I said,” he croons, his voice dropping deep as he circles around to the foot of your bed, his eyes lit with a new fire. “That thing about trembling, you know.” As he climbs onto the bed, he pushes your legs apart, wider and wider, kissing up your inner thigh.

“Sammy,” you caution. In your last relationship, this had never been very successful for you. You were afraid that trend would continue, and Sammy would get frustrated over it.

“Please,” he breathed out, warm and wet against your skin, and just his breath against you made you shiver in anticipation. You nod in agreement, and he spreads you open even further. Almost timidly, he pushes the very tip of his tongue into the open space between your legs, soft and slow and careful, dragging the full breadth and width of his tongue behind.

“Oh,” you breath out indecently, a rattled breath from your lungs, as Sammy’s tongue reached the crux of his ascent. Just like he promised, you tremble underneath him.

“Oh, fuck,” he moans, gripping your calf and you can feel him arching his hips into the mattress for a little extra friction. “God, make that sound for me again.” With his tongue widened, he drags it along the entire width of you, dipping inside, curling and uncurling within, fucking you with his tongue. He moves out, circling your entire entrance with his tongue, dripping and scorching, before lazily running over your crux, slowly, slowly, slowly.

You make the sound for him again. And again. And again. Those sounds get louder as his tongue increases in speed, feverishly, furiously lapping at your skin, back and forth, up and down, making tight, wet patterns with his tongue until you’re ready to come apart.

“Fuck,” he mumbles again, into your skin, sending the vibrations of his speech into your very core, and he pushes his tongue in with them, deep down until you can feel his lips pressed to yours. He purses his lips there, kissing you, his tongue still driving inside, and when he moans, it’s like an electric shock to your body.

“Don’t stop,” you call out, your voice feeling thin as your body finds the edge. Agonizingly slowly, he pulls his tongue up again, to the same throbbing, swollen skin, and he sucks at it, swirling his tongue within his lips. As you bury your first into his dark, wavy hair, he lays into a rhythm, daring to press two wet fingers into the depths of you. He pushes in and pulls out, matching the pace of his fingers to the rhythm of his tongue, fucking you hard and fast until your vision goes white, and every muscle tenses, and you call out Sammy’s name into the dark, waves of pleasure coursing through you until you’re throbbing around his fingers.

“Oh my God,” he moans, his breath still hot and sticky against you before he moves up, kissing every inch of skin in his path. “You come so fucking well. You look so good right now.”

When he gets to your mouth, you turn his head, pulling his earlobe into your teeth. “Fuck me, Sammy,” you whisper into his ear and every part of him goes limp against you, save one.

“Fuck. Oh, fuck, yes,” he mutters and moans, and you can feel him hard between your legs. He reaches down, swirling the head of his cock at your entrance for only a moment before pressing in, gently at first until his hips are flush to yours. His hips swell and break viciously, pressing into you with a zealous need over and over, his fingers kneading at the skin at your hip that you used to hate, but you can no longer hate it, for the way that Sammy caresses it.

He whispers into your ear, all the things you ever wanted to hear him say. You’re so beautiful. I’ve wanted you for so long. God, I love you. I love you. I love you. And it’s been five years, but it feels like five days, and you’ve never felt this good about anything in your life.

When Sammy comes, his dark brown eyes roll back with his head, his neck craned so tight that you can finger that cord of muscle that meets in the center of his collarbone. The moan pulling up from his throat is like the thrum of a bass string, deep and harmonious and reverberating, and it echoes in your chest until you feel filled up by it, too.

When he comes down, he drags his hand through his hair, hair that is longer than it’s ever been, and it looks so much darker under moonlight. His fingers pull through the tangled mess of his hair and he lets them trail down his chest, down his waist, along his hips. Those fingers find your skin again as he pulls out with an indelicate, satiated moan, and he wraps you up in his arms, kissing the back of your neck. You feel sleep pulling, but you fight vehemently.

His words continue, the words that he had been whispering in your ear when he’d been buried within you, and you try so hard to listen, but your eyelids are so heavy now.

His speech turns to song, singing sweetly and softly, his lips brushing along the shell of your ear until you’re sure you could fall asleep at any moment. “You’re the one I want. You’re the one I need. You’re the one I had. So come on back to me.”

You dream about holding his hand and staying a while.