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tomtenadia · 3 years ago

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A Little Braver - Chapter 11

Hello everyone. That’s me back from my holidays and I have ch 11 ready for you.

The first part is our two lovebirds still on holiday in Doranelle and they get to be cute and yes, this part as fluff. Enjoy it while it lasts.

For the second part and the ending, just blame the angst gremlin. I decline every responsibility.

It was Sunday and also Aelin’s last day of holiday in Doranelle. She and Rowan had spent their Saturday in the Cambrian Mountains and did a lot of hiking, had a picnic near a waterfall and swam naked in the pool in front of it and also engaged in some other more interesting activities. The day had been perfect and they had managed to survive two full days without fighting and they both were impressed by it.

Now they were in his car and Rowan was driving her to the coast. He had explained that it was the last part left to explore and that one of his colleagues had suggested a lovely place. He had made lunch for both again and they did manage to set off a bit earlier.

Aelin was comfortable in her seat, her feet on the dashboard and he stared at her while her head was turned to look outside.

After their talk he had decided to stop feeling guilty. Aelin had been right and they both deserved a second chance at happiness. He had finally decided to accept what he felt for her and maybe that was why they had not fought for two whole days. They had been both pushing the other away, too scared of caring once again. He still was, if he was truthful to himself. Her job scared the heck out of him. But he was done pushing her away.

“Are you comfortable over there?”

She turned and smiled at him, her blue eyes lit with mirth “are you going all health and safety on me, captain?”

“You are the firefighter, you should know the dangers of such a position in case I hit hard on the brakes.” He explained, stopping a mocking smile from appearing on his lips.

“Well, just don’t slam on those breaks, captain. Can you do that and deliver us safely to the beach?”

His hand gently brushed her naked knee. She was wearing a pair of blue shorts and a colourful top.

“Will the water be warm enough for me to swim in it?”

Rowan nodded. “According to my colleague this is a lovely beach and not too busy either. Something only the locals know about.”

Aelin pulled her sunglasses down on her eyes “wake me up when we are there.”

Fifteen minutes later Rowan poked her arm “Ohi, sleeping beauty. Get up.”

Aelin lifted her sunglasses on her head and glared at him “why can’t you behave like a well mannered man? I don’t know, wake me up with a kiss?”

He got of the car and opened the rear door and unloaded the two backpacks “get your arse out of my car. We are at the beach.”

“So, so rude.” She complained while leaving the car and grabbing her stuff from him. They had warmed up to each other but she still adored their bickering.

He started walking and she ran after him, grabbing his hand in hers.

They arrived at the beach and she rejoiced at the discovery they had the entire place to themselves.

Rowan selected a space not too far from the water and deposited their stuff on the ground, placing also the two beach towels for them.

In an instant Aelin had removed her clothes and was standing in front of him in her bikini.

He stared at her “is that your… bathing suit?”

She posed for him “lovely isn’t it?”

It covered very little, thought Rowan. Two red triangles covered her breasts all tied together by some very flimsy strings and the same for the bottom part.

He grabbed her hand and pushed her down on the towel “sit,” he rummaged in his back pack and took out sunscreen “you have a very fair skin and you will burn.”

Aelin sat down and he took a place behind her. He dropped some cream on her back and started spreading it on her back “you do the front,” he said by passing her the bottle.

“I thought you’d love the honour.”

Rowan sighed “if I do that it might lead to something else which is not appropriate on a beach in the middle of the day.”

Once his hands stopped she reached for the knot behind her neck and untied it, the top of her bikini falling off. She untied the one on her back as well and turned to him “up to the challenge, captain?” She took the bottle and put a dollop of cream on her fingers and started spreading it on her naked breasts and enjoyed staring at his expression morphing into pure lust.

“You’ll be the death of me.” He put more cream on his hands and began massaging her breasts making sure they had a nice cover “given how flimsy your bikini is, you need protection everywhere.”

“So considerate of you…” she teased him arching her back into his touch. She never had enough of him. She had a few men before Sam and no one had ever made her feel like that. Not even Sam.

Once he was done he bent over and recovered the piece of garment “come on, cover up.”

She took the piece of her bikini from him “scared by a pair of magnificent boobs?”

“No, we are in a public place.”

She slowly put the top back on and he offered to tie it for her “let them stare.”

Rowan’s mouth was at her ear again, biting gently her lobe “I don’t share.” and the tone in which he said it made her toes curl.

She then pulled away and ran to the water, jumping in it with happiness. Rowan stood and joined her slowly.

“Come one, it’s stunning.” She shouted emerging from the water.

Rowan smiled then ran and once he reached her he tackled her and carried Aelin like a sack of potatoes and threw her sin the water as soon as they reached a deeper spot.

Aelin re emerged. She tried to protest but she found his body against hers, his lips kissing her hard. She stared at his tanned and muscular body and ran a hand along his chest “I don’t share either, captain. I am very jealous of what is mine.”

Those words were his undoing. He grabbed her legs and pulled them around him and Aelin climbed on him and a moment later they had completely forgotten they were in the middle of the sea.

Luckily for them they had remained the only two people on the beach as their adventure in the water was followed a bit later by one on the sand.

Fully clothed again they now lay side by side. Aelin had her eyes closed, trying to suntan a bit and Rowan on his belly reading a book.

Aelin turned on her side and lifted the cover of his book and noticed it looked like about some theory of flight or tactics “we are on holiday and you are working?”

He turned to her.

“Your book,” she pointed “it’s about flight tactics. Can’t you enjoy a day without thinking about flying?”

“I’d like you to know that I am reading for pleasure. The fact that the book is giving me great ideas is another matter.”

Aelin scooted closer to him and placed her head under his arm and stared at the book with curiosity. She noticed strange drawings “are those flight manoeuvres?”

He nodded and with his arm he pulled her closer “this,” he pointed at the diagram “is called barrel roll attack. It’s quite cool.” Then he pointed at another one “this is the Immelmann and this one…” he turned the page “these are a low and high yo-yo.”

“They have funny names.” She looked at the book “this one seems cool,”

“This is a high G barrel roll.” He explained “you do this when the attacker is at your tail and you can feel his guns on you. It’s far more brutal than a regular barrel roll. Not recommended if you have a sensitive stomach.” He took out his phone and showed her something “Fenrys put a camera on his fighter during training and this is a video taken during training and a mock dogfight.”

Aelin watched the video with amazement “Play it again, it was so fast.” He did it and she stared at the jet completing the manoeuvre “was that you?”

Rowan nodded and showed her a few more videos of their training. She was fascinated.

“I still want to see you fly. For real.”

He put the phone down and looked at her “Lorcan says it’s fine. We can do that when I come back.”

Aelin nodded and he kissed her. He closed the book and pulled her closer and then lay down with his arm over her in a very protective gesture. She turned and snuggled all the way against his torso and let his body protect her from the sun.

It was a few hours later when Rowan woke up and realised they had fallen asleep on the beach. Aelin was tucked in his embrace and was sleeping soundly and he was glad to notice that her body was in the shadow of his body. It would have been a very painful awakening.

“Hey, sleepyhead.”

She opened her eyes and looked up at him and he loved the freckles that had appeared on her face.

“We fell asleep.”

“You really do make a good pillow.” She told him while sitting back up.

“I will make sure to update my resume, I am sure it’s a very sought after skill.” He stood and offered his hand to her “come on, let’s go for a stroll.”

She wore her top again “we don’t want to cause a riot, don’t we?”

Rowan smiled and he pulled her up after he took her hand.

They walked for a while. The beach had turned out to be much longer than they thought. Aelin had kept her shoes in one hand and walked the whole distance with her feet in the water. She hadn’t realised how much she needed a holiday. In the past year her life had been complete dedication to her job. It had helped to keep the demons at bay. But now there was Rowan and hopefully she had found someone with whom to walk the path back toward light.

“Fancy going out for dinner tonight?”

“I am craving seafood.” She said swinging their linked hands “we can stay here. Have dinner and then go back to your flat.”

“Sounds like a great plan.”

It was much later that night when they finally rolled back into Rowan’s flat.

“I am so tired and my face is on fire.”

Rowan cupped he face with his hands “you have freckles and you are stunning.”

Aelin gave him a smile and then ducked “I call dibs on the shower.”

Rowan laughed and let her win.

The shower took her a bit longer than planned. Her thoughts wandered to the fact that she was meant to fly home the next day and sadness struck when she realised she did not want to leave Rowan. They had the four best days so far and she hated that she had to wait two more weeks for him to be back and finally try and work on the foundation of their relationship that they had built during that holiday.

Once back in Rowan’s room she started packing. He had given her her own room but she never used it. They had ended up sharing the room and the bed.

She was busy groaning at packing when she felt his arms fold around her waist from behind. His smell of pine and snow was much stronger and she leaned against his chest, closing her eyes “I really don’t want to go.”

“I’ll be back in two weeks,” he told her against her ear.

“I know,” and she hated how petulant she sounded. She turned in his arms and buried her face in his naked chest. Rowan held her tight, her head tucked under his chin.

“I love when you hold me like this. It makes me feel less alone.”

Rowan squeezed her and they remained like that for a time that it felt endless. He didn’t want her to go either and he had a feeling they were going to be two very long weeks. He was getting used having her in his bed and loved waking up in the morning with her scent around him. He eventually pulled away and sat down on the bed and put on his briefs “come on,” he patted the bed “time to sleep.” She climbed in bed with him and took her usual position nested against him and his arms protectively around her.

Aelin was once again in his car but alas, this time it was not for an adventure. He was driving her back to the airport. Her holiday was officially over and she had been grumpy all morning.

His hand was resting on her knee giving her comfort.

“Are you going back to work tomorrow?”

Aelin shook her head “I need to start tonight. We are on night shift.”

“That sucks.”

In the distance she noticed the shape of Doranelle airport appear and her heart sank.

Rowan parked in the short stay car park and he grabbed her hand and together they walked into the airport. Check-in was a breeze and he eventually walked her just before the security area “this is as far as I can go.” He told her sadly.

Aelin crashed against him and fought it very hard not to cry.

“Hey…” he said very gently caressing her head “I will be back soon.”

She took a deep breath and pulled back.

“Call me when you land. I don’t trust those civilian pilots.” His thumb brushed her lips gently then he leaned over and kissed her.

“These are going to be two very long weeks.” He whispered against her mouth.

“I know.” Then she kissed him one more time and pulled away with all the courage she had. One of them had to let go eventually.

He kissed her one last time and let her hand go and stared at her walk away until she disappeared behind security.

***

It was a few hours later when Aelin landed back in Orynth. She had texted Aedion before boarding and gave him an ETA. While she waited for her bag to arrive on the carousel she phoned Rowan and he answered at the first ring.

“I am pleased to say that my pilot did manage to land us safely back in Terrasen.”

She heard Rowan scoff “It’s not that difficult, he just needs to press a few buttons and use the stick for landing and take off.”

She loved to tease him “he was hot though…”

“Sure, if you fancy men getting paid to fly a big metal trap in a straight line…”

She chuckled “we turned a few times as well.”

“You banked,” he corrected her.

“Uh?”

“An aircraft banks, does not turn. Then we roll, pitch and yaw.”

She huffed “fine, we banked. Happy?”

Her bag arrived and she placed it on her shoulder.

“Was the flight okay?”

She started walking to the exit “yeah, no turbulence this time.” She reached the main doors and walked through “what are you doing?”

“Getting ready to head to class.”

“Are you going to crush those little bastards?”

Rowan laughed “oh yes, I have a very hard exercise in mind.”

She spotted Aedion in the distance and weaved at him “Aedion is here. I gotta go.”

“Be safe, okay?”

“You too, captain. I am getting quite fond of having you around.”

“Bye menace.”

Aedion found her within minutes and hugged her as if he hadn’t seen her in a lifetime.

“Welcome back.” He squeezed her “give me your bags.” He grabbed her stuff and they walked back to his car “how was you holiday?”

“I had a good time.”

“You seem happier.”

“How is the station? Is it still standing?” She changed the subject. She had no intention of talking about her time with Rowan with her cousin.

“It is still standing. We had a few interesting calls, but nothing we could not handle. The team we got from west is blending really well in our team.”

“Good.”

They arrived at the station not long after and once she got off the car Lysandra and Elide ran to her and hugged her fiercely “I was away only for four days.”

“We missed you.” Then Lysandra grabbed her arm and pulled her to the lockers room “get changed and talk.”

Aelin opened her locker and dropped her duffel bag inside it and took out her uniform “So nosey,”

“You have just spent four days with hot captain. Come on girl, we want details,” and both women sat on the bench.

“We had a good time.”

“And?”

“And it was relaxing.”

“And?”

Aelin removed her clothes and remained in her underwear “and that’s it.”

“You are telling me, that you just spent four days living in his flat and you two did nothing?”

“I am not telling you anything.” She wore her trousers, then grabbed her top and finally her blue shirt “things happened but they are between us.”

“Aelin, I have a bet to win.”

“I knew it.” Shouted Aelin, fixing her hair again in a tight braid.

“Well, they had to concentrate on a new target since Aedion and I are off the betting pool.”

Aelin stopped and turned to Lysandra and the woman showed her her fourth finger now carrying a gorgeous ring.

“Holy fuck, he did it. He finally proposed.”

“It was beautiful,” said Elide dreamingly.

“He did it here at the station?”

Lysandra nodded “he waited for me and Elide to come back from a call. He placed loads of candles in a heart shape in front of the rigs and as we drove back in he stopped in front of the ambulance on one knee. And then he proposed.”

Aelin hugged her best friend “this is amazing. So friggin awesome.”

“So nothing happened with hot guy?”

Aelin looked at the clock. She still had twenty minutes before the start of the shift “Fine. Just as an engagement present.” And she took a seat beside the two women “Rowan and I, we… had a great time.” And at her expression, Lysandra squealed and Elide smiled as well.

“Is he good?”

Aelin laughed “he is… very skilled.”

“Holy shit. How many times? Where? Any naughty places?”

Aelin knew this was going to happen. She and Lys had always shared such things “the first time we did it three time. The night I arrived in Doranelle. And we did it in the sea and on an empty beach.”

“Ok, I am really jealous right now.” Asked Lys grabbing her friend’s hands “what does this mean?”

Aelin shrugged “he is away for two more weeks. Once he is back we… will discuss things.”

“Ok, from a scale from 1 to god, how good is he?”

Aelin laughed “definitely god.”

“And is he…?” Lys’ eyebrows lifted in a suggestive manner.

“I am not telling you that.”

“What does he do to be a god?” Asked Elide shyly.

“Make you scream so much the neighbours thinks he is torturing you.” Explained Lysandra deadpanned.

Aelin laughed and grabbed Elide’s hand “don’t worry about all of this.” She said tenderly “how is it going with Lorcan?”

Elide blushed savagely “really well. I… I told him about… me.”

“And?” Asked Aelin curious. She hoped the man had been nice to her. She knew where his office was.

“He has been nice about it. He promised he’ll wait for me and that when I feel ready he will show me everything.”

Aelin chuckled “Good.” Then looked at the clock “girls, let’s go.”

The team was having a relaxing night in front of the tv. Aelin was on the comfy chair her legs draped over the arm, reading a book. Rowan’s manual on flight techniques that he had lent her. After he had shown what he was reading at the beach she had started getting curious and wanted to be able to impress him upon his return. Her phone was in her lap and they had been texting all evening. She was hoping in an easy shift when the dispatch alarm went off. Everyone jumped and she and Aedion took a rig each after the announcement called for two engines and the ambulance.

Aelin ran to her turnout gear and got dressed super quickly and jumped in the engine.

“Did I hear correctly?” She asked Nox who was already at the wheel ready to go “are we going to the airport?”

Nox nodded.

“Those bloody civilian pilots.” She joked but no one got her and she wished Rowan was there, he would have loved it.

They arrived at the airport and Nox stopped the truck. Aelin got off and met the man in the car with red flashing lights “Follow me. We have a collision between two aircrafts. The big one then crashed into the hangar and we have people trapped in there as well.”

Aelin ran back and they followed the car and when they reached the accident site they were not ready for the carnage in front of them. The plane had slammed into the hangar and a raging fire had enveloped a side of the aircraft. Aelin searched for the second plane but could not see it. She jumped off the truck and went back to the man to get an idea of what they were dealing with.

“I thought you said there were two aircrafts.”

The man silently pointed at the remains of a smaller aircraft under the bigger one. There was nothing left and the smaller plane had been reduced to smithereens.

She went back to her team and started shouting orders “Manon, Asterin, try and crack the aircraft door open and see if we can save someone. Wesley, Kyllian you go with Ress and cover Asterin and Manon with water.” She ordered them “Ansel, you are on the aerial and get Manon and Asterin where they need to go.” Then she turned to the rest of her squad “Aedion, take Luca and Brullo and stop the aircraft fire. Remember that the fuel is in the wings.”

“How do you know that?” Asked Nox surprised.

“That is not important now.” She went to their engine and grabbed mask and oxygen tank and tools “Ren, Nox, you two are with me. We are going inside the hangar.” They all geared up very quickly and in the distance she noticed Dorian’s approaching. “Aedion, we might need to call west if it gets worse.”

Aelin and the two guys ran to try and find and entrance to the hangar but the frame of the plane was stuck inside it, blocking any access. “Be careful, there is jet fuel everywhere.” They walked under the wing on fire but they could not see any point of access inside the hangar.

“Can you hear it?” Asked Nox.

“Fuck, there are people still in the hangar.” The nose of the plane had collapsed as the landing gear had failed. Then she noticed it. A small passage near the nose. She removed her oxygen tank from her shoulders, pushed it through the opening and walked to the small hole.

“What are you doing?” Shouted Ren.

“Going in. I am the smallest of the three.” She kneeled and started to wriggle her body through the small opening “open up a bigger passage, we need to find a way to evacuate the civilians.”

Once on the other side, the heat was unbearable and fire and smoke made visibility impossible.

“Fire department, call out.” She shouted to draw attention. A massive explosion rocked the hangar and she threw herself on the ground and rolled quickly on the side managing to avoid a piece of the roof of the hangar collapsing on her.

“Fire department, call out,” she shouted again. Slowly she began walking deeper in the raging inferno in the hope someone was still alive. Everything was collapsing around her. Then she heard it. A voice.

“Fire department, call out.”

She heard the call again and tried to walk to the voice. Then she saw it. A person was on the floor and beside it there was another one. She ran to them.

“Are you okay?” The woman was in shock but alive.

She had a look at the man lying on the ground and searched for a pulse and found none.

“You need to come with me.”

The woman started shaking and Aelin pulled her up on her feet. She had no time.

“Go through there, there are firefighters outside. They will help you. You are safe.”

The woman nodded and kneeled and slowly slithered through the small aperture.

“Ren, there is a woman coming out.” She shouted.

“We can’t open a passage. If we do this side will collapse completely.” Shouted Nox in a panicked voice.

“Go through the other side, go through the nose, but I need a fucking bigger passage.” and she left again not waiting for a reply.

Manon had cracked open the door of the aircraft and she and Asterin had made their way inside. The cabin was full of smoke and fire had started to spread from a gash that had opened where the wing was attached to the fuselage. Manon smelled fuel and knew they had to be quick.

“We are with the fire department. If you can walk we need you to follow us and evacuate the aircraft immediately.”

Asterin walked deeper down the aisle “cover mouth and nose with something.” She noticed a few injured people “Manon, you take those who can walk.”

Manon nodded and directed people out of the main door and once at the aerial she shouted for Luca.

The young man climbed the aerial very swiftly “I am passing you some passengers, make sure they get down safely.”

Luca started ferrying people back and forth leading them to safety to two waiting Lys and Elide.

Asterin heard a few ominous sounds and pushed the people down the aisle, Manon joined her and together with the last two passengers they ran into the cockpit and slammed the door shut when an explosion rocked the plane.

Luca flattened on the aerial and covered the person he was accompanying, with his body.

On the ground Aedion and his two men took sheltered from the explosion and Dorian did the same.

“Evacuate the civilians quickly.” He shouted over the noise.

Lysandra and Elide took all the survivors to the ambulance that had been parked at a safer distance.

“Aedion, I want that fire under control.” Dorian barked again “we are getting close to the collapse point.” then he realised he was missing one person “where’s Aelin?”

“Inside,” and Nox pointing at the hangar.

“Alone?” Shouted Dorian in rage “you let her go inside alone? That is not protocol.”

“She was the only one who could fit through the small gap.” Ren bit back, not caring if he was being disrespectful to his CO. “Nox and I are trying to open a second gap but the fuselage is the only thing holding up the hangar right now.”

Dorian slammed his hat on the ground and tried to call Aelin over the radio but no response came over.

Aelin knew she was lost. She had found two more people beyond saving, but she did not give up. The heat was becoming worse by the minute. She continued walking until she spotted two figures hiding in a corner. They were alive “Fire department,” she shouted. The two people waved at her. One was badly injured “can you walk?”

“I can manage.”

“Lean on me,” offered Aelin to the man. Slowly they crawled back to the nose of the aircraft and as she did with the first person she pointed the exit to them.

She looked at the small screen on her wrist and noticed that her oxygen was running low.

“Shit.” She probably still had fifteen minutes. She could try and save someone else.

Dorian saw the two people come out of the passage and for a moment he hoped a third one would appear as well but Aelin never did. “Where are you?” He whispered to her.

Aedion got the aircraft fire under control, but not yet the hangar and Nox and Ren could finally work on opening a bigger passage for them to go in. They knew it was a race against time. Chances were Aelin’s oxygen was running low and they had to get in and find her quickly.

Aelin’s breathing apparatus beeped signalling her that her juice was up. She had moved even deeper in the hangar and she had lost sight of the nose of the plane, her only landmark to her way out. All around her there was nothing but fire. She threw the air tank on the ground, now exhausted and useless. She removed the mask and the stench of jet fuel hit her. The smoke grew thicker and she began coughing, her lungs burning at every breath. She placed the mask again against her face and walked a bit more searching for more survivors.

Aedion saw it happen in slow motion. He was helping Nox and Ren opening a new passage to the interior of the hangar when the structure folded on itself. The material, now compromised by the crash and the heat had given up like a house of cards in the wind.

“No… no… no…” said Nox frantically, “Aelin is inside. Fuck it, Aelin is still inside.” He shouted.

Aedion turned to him with a dangerous glare in his eyes.

He ran to the engine and went to grab his oxygen tank but Dorian stopped him “you are not going inside.”

Aedion freed himself from the man’s grip “I am going in and I don’t give a fuck. I am not letting her die in there.”

“You can’t go in there.”

“If you love her as much as you claim you will let me go in and save her.” Aedion wore his gear in defiance.

Dorian tried one more time to stop him but Aedion did not listen and slowly crawled through the passage they had managed to open.

Aelin stopped and coughed a bit more. Her lungs and her throat were on fire. She could feel the fumes from the jet fuel starting to have an effect on her. She moved a few steps then she heard it.

A moment later the whole structure collapsed on her. Her mask rolled away from her hand, and Aelin, trapped under the debris, sank into unconsciousness as the fire now surrounded her completely.

TAGS

@rowaelinismyotp

@jlinez

@swankii-art-teacher

@courtofjurdan

@whimsicallyreading

@tillyrubes10

#rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin galythinius #rowan x aelin #aedion x lysandra #Throne of Glass series #fanfic

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theyreonlynoodlesmike · 4 years ago

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Hey! Love your stories on Ao3 and I’m so happy that I found some more of your work to read!❤️ If it’s okay can I make a poly request? I was thinking of a girl from our time being sent back to the lost boys and them falling for each other. There can be some angst if you want, such as her being sent back to her dimension but maybe finding a way to go back to their time after months of being away? Thank you for giving us some of the best stories ever! 💕

So, this is a pretty big request (possible spanning over multiple chapters), so I’m gonna actually write/continue this on my ao3 account! I may post the later chapters on here later, but for now I’m gonna keep them on ao3. Here’s the first chapter!

It’s Just a Movie (Fem!Reader x poly!Lost boys) fic

Next Chapter ->

Warnings: Cursing

Word Count: 1504

It had been a simple night. Sure, it was halloween and, sure, it was a full moon. A blue moon at that. But that didn’t mean anything, right?

You sure as hell didn’t think so as you went to see a showing of one of your favorite movies, the Lost Boys, with some of your friends. With everything going on with covid, the theaters were empty and your local one had been showing older classics for the past few weeks. They had a selection of horror lined up for halloween night, and your group had chosen to see your favorite vampire movie.

You had even dressed up for the occasion, donning a dark, almost gothic look. Hell, you practically looked like one of the extras in the opening sequence. You and your friends jammed along to the soundtrack, laughed at Sam’s antics, and nearly cried when you witnessed your four favorite vampires meet their inevitable end. A movie’s gotta have an ending, right? After Grandpa delivered the classic ending line, you and your friends packed it up to head outside.

Well, they did. You had forgotten your wallet, and you ran back into the theater to grab it. Your friends had promised to wait for you, and you fumbled to put your mask back on as you searched through the dim theater. You used your phone to find it half stuck in one of the chairs, and you quickly jogged out of the auditorium, and then the theater, to find that your friends weren’t waiting for you. And that the streets were far more packed then they had been a second ago.

Sure, there were people in halloween masks and costumes littered about, but you nearly scoffed when you saw that no one seemed to be taking any of the social distancing rules seriously. You took a step, planning on looking for your friends when you noticed that the theater had almost...changed. The outside didn’t look the same as it did before. Instead, it had the old sign outside, broadcasting what movies were playing inside. Sure, you had expected some older movies, but some of these you hadn’t even heard of. You thought it was weird, considering the theaters would probably want to stick to the most popular ones during a pandemic.

You looked back around, but your friends were nowhere in sight. You thought to walk to the parking lot, but you paused. You heard a whistle, and a wave of relief washed over you. You turned, expecting your friends, and, instead, you were met with a different familiar face. This night couldn’t have gotten any weirder.

You looked him up and down. Teased blonde hair, blue eyes, straight nose, slight stubble on his sharp jawline, a black coat paired with white pants and a mesh shirt? He was even wearing those calf things that your friends had made fun of that one time, because what the hell type of 80s fashion things are those supposed to be? You shook your head, touching one side of your forehead while thinking that perhaps you had hit your head or something while looking for your wallet. There was no way you were looking at Paul from the Lost Boys. He sent you a grin, flashing rows of straight, normal, non-vampire looking teeth, and said,

“Well, hello there to you too, doll-face. Need some company?” He asked, and you nearly thought about pinching yourself. Holy shit. Before you could answer, you heard,

“Who’s this?” And you wouldn’t have been surprised if this whole sitation wasn’t boggling your mind. As all the fans knew that where one Lost Boy was, the others weren’t far behind. You turned, and found yourself looking directly into the face of the other natural blonde. You met big, hazel colored eyes, and your eyes instinctively fell to his lips. Just in time to watch his thumb be pushed between them. Clean jaw, cherub face, golden curls, a heavy, colorful jacket, jeans, and leather chaps? There was no mistaking him. The second half of the blonde duo had arrived, and you almost wondered if the others weren’t far behind.

“I don’t know. She seems shy.” Paul said, a smile on his face as he reached out to brush a hand against your cheek. Cold fingers barely brushed against you, and you leaned back. Almost into the blonde on your other side, who had taken the spot right next to you. “I’m Paul, and that’s my buddy Marko.” Paul added, pointing at the blonde with his eyes. Before they trained themselves back onto you. Marko leaned in a bit to say into your ear.

“Your turn.” And it nearly caused you to flinch. He laughed, steadying you. “C’mon, we don’t bite.” He said with a grin, and a shiver nearly ran down your back when the taller of the blondes laughed. Too hard. If you hadn’t been so caught up in the complete and utter shock you had been experiencing you probably would have been thinking more about how these boys were vampires. Sure, it had been fun to talk about them on forums and on different apps, but suddenly you were hit with an urge to run. Especially before the other half of their gang arrived.

“I’m- I’m just looking for my friends.” You quickly blurted. You started walking, but your brain was on hyper-drive. If this was real, if this was really happening, then you were in a horror movie. And the killers had already taken an interest in you. They quickly started following, staying just as close as they had been before.

“Ooh, are they as pretty as you? We can help you find them.” Paul offered, and you almost wanted to accept. He sounded like he was just trying to be helpful, albeit flirt a little. It was the eighties, so you couldn’t quite blame him for being so persistent. Part of you really wanted to accept, but you reminded yourself. Horror movie. Killers. And they probably wanted to make you apart of the menu. You had only taken a few steps, but the shorter of the two jumped in your path. He walked backwards and said,

“C’mon, you don’t wanna walk alone, right? It’s halloween, and all the weirdos are out.” Marko started, and Paul was quick to waggle his fingers and make a spooky sound to accompany his claim. You faltered. You hadn’t necessarily thought about where you wanted to go, and the parking lot was dark. Far darker than the front of the movie theater. And emptier. You gulped, reminding yourself once again. Horror movie. Killers. You looked between them, trying to think of a way to not end up as a juicebox for the two unfairly attractive vampires in front of you.

You had to admit. You had no idea where you could go, and it wasn’t exactly like you knew what the hell was going on. As far as you were concerned, these were some of the only familiar faces you would find. That, or the Emersons. But you had no idea what time it was in their- what could you call this? Dimension? Or was this just some weird dream? Whatever it was, you had no idea if the Emersons even arrived yet or where to find Grandpa’s house. So, you were shit out of luck. You supplied your name before you quickly added,

“My friends and I- We were going to meet on the boardwalk.” You said, and the boys grinned. You knew it had to be one of their favorite places, since they went there every night. At least that's what the movie made it seem like. Maybe, just maybe, you could get there, let the boardwalk distract them, and figure out what you were going to do. And have some fun with two of the biggest heartthrobs from the eighties.

“Sweet! We can totally take you. We just need to wait for the rest of our friends.” Paul said, and suddenly every last bead of hope slipped from your body. Two vampires already had the odds against you, but all four? Especially one of them being David? You would be screwed! Before you could make something up, Marko said,

“Yeah, here they come.” And you wished that whatever this was would end. That you could go back and be in your own dimension. You turned, seeing a brunette wearing just a leather jacket, jeans, and sneakers. His dark, brooding eyes practically shined in the night, and his resting face made you want to shrink in on yourself. To avoid them, your eyes flicked to the blonde besides him. Blue eyes, scruffy cheeks, and a leather jacket-trenchcoat combo paired with leather pants, boots, and leather gloves? Oh, you were so screwed. If you had any doubt in your mind that this was happening, you were sure now.

As the rest of the vampires approached, you tried to calm your oncoming panic attack with a mantra of it’s just a movie. But now you weren’t so sure.

#the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #the lost boys paul #paul the lost boys #david the lost boys #the lost boys david #dwayne the lost boys #the lost boys dwayne #marko the lost boys #the lost boys marko #the lost boys imagines #the lost boys x reader

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extravaguk · 4 years ago

Text

santa&prada

part of my opposites attract! series.

ksj / knj / myg / jhs / kth / jjk

pairing: rich!jimin x reader

summary: Yeah, Park Jimin most likely didn't even realize he was being a rude and disrespectful son of a bitch.

wordcount: 5k

genre: smut - angst(? - fluff (? idk u tell me

rated: m

warnings: a christmas fic in late november, cursing, a huge misunderstanding lmao, i call jimin ‘park jimin’ too many times bc i felt like it, car sex, oral (f recieving), some good ole spanking, (kinda) rough and unprotected sex, a lil of dirty talk, spit kink. thats about it. just an excuse to write jimin fucking you in a car. jimin is not as bad as oc thinks srsly.

The first time you meet Park Jimin is through mutual friends. On a firday night on December, with white, red and green lights decorating the streets of New York, filled with the typical hustle of the masses doing last minute Christmas shopping, the freezing weather impacting your body temperature, cursing yourself for choosing tights, a skirt and heeled boots that are too pretty but too uncomfortable to wear.

You had never considered yourself a particular enthusiast of Christmas festivities. You guess discovering Santa Claus was, actually, your parents before the rest of the kids in your class was one of the many reasons that made you grow up too soon and therefore, not allowing you to fully enjoy the month of December. Or maybe it had nothing to do with Santa, and more to do with your parents deciding to get a divorce a day before Christmas Eve. A traumatic event for seven year old you, but completely forgotten and overcome by twenty-four year old present you.

Growing up each Christmas suffering the consecuences of a shared custody would have probably had a disastrous effect on anybody else, but not you. Although the separation was a tough reality to accept at first, fortunately your parents were always capable of raising you in an environment full of love and affection, just like any other kid. And you prided yourself on having moved on from those circumstances a long time ago (even if your therapist disagreed and blamed many of your behaviors on it. Whatever.)

To put it simply, December was just not the month for you. It was just another month, like the remaining eleven of the year, except Mariah Carey's voice was heard every five minutes everywhere you'd go and people gave each other presents as if it was only during that time of the year when they remembered their loved ones.

The only thing you could thank Christmas for were the well deserved two weeks of holidays our work allowed until the new year's arrival. Fifteen days of rest, peace and baking those gingerbread cookies that Seokjin died for and that you sincerely denoted as nauseating.

You truly had no idea what exactly you did wrong that night. You don't know if it was something you said, or something you did, but what you did know was that Park Jimin pursued a silent and personal vendetta against you that continued nowadays.

"Here are your disgusting cookies, you filthy animal." it might have been that very first sentence you said when you entered the bar and reunited with your friends that didn't cause a good impression. "Shit, it's cold as fuck. My nipples are harder than my life." or maybe it was your selection of words while you waved every familiar face hello until you stopped to look at the only (pretty. too pretty, as well) one you had never seen before.

"_____, it's Chrismtas! Santa Clause will only bring you a lump of coal if you keep cursing like that!" Lisa laughed while she kissed your cheek and made space for you to sit next to her. "Oh, by the way, this is Jimin. A friend of Namjoon. He's a newbie!"

Park Jimin was stunning, you had no trouble admitting that. You weren't blind, you weren't stupid, and you could go as far as theorize that his dark eyes, his light and always immaculate styled hair, his sharp jawline and those plump lips as red as cherries must have been sculpted by Satan himself.

Fuck, you were even sure you'd be on your knees in front of Park Jimin in an alternative universe begging for his dick inside your mouth. But in the universe where you and the real Park Jimin reside, he would never come near you unless somebody was aiming a gun into his skull.

You're not precisely sure what it was, but a brief exchange of glances and an evasive and sligh shake of hands with Park Jimin was enough to make you feel ashamed and withdrawn for the rest of the night.

If Jimin wasn't even able to drop a polite "Nice to meet you", he sure as hell wasn't able to pretend you even existed.

Even the small talk you had tried to engaged with him about his shiny pair of shoes went terribly wrong.

"Oh, are those Dolce and Gabbana?"

"Dolce and Gabbana are homphobic, racist and sexist, so no" the grimace on his face should've been enough to make you regret speaking to him in the first place , but the snarky voice of his made you want to run away and hide from him until next Christmas.

In reality, you swore you didn't care. Seriously. Other's opinions were never something that could easily bother you or keep you awake at night. You had always turned a deaf ear to the cruel children that made fun of you due to your parent's divorce, you had always ignored the amount of men that never considered you "ladylike" enough (what the fuck did that even mean, anyway? what exactly made a lady and what didn't?), and you had always disregarded any envous comment surrounding you.

So, fuck Park Jimin! You had said to yourself. He's just a well mannered rich boy. Somebody who didn't resemble you in any aspect. A stupid, pretentious, spoiled boy who's had everything he's ever wanted in the palm of his hand, unlike you. Who the fuck cares what Park Jimin thinks?

But apparently, you did.

You would have never placed such importance to whatever it was that roamed inside Jimin's head if his appearances in your group of friends hadn't been so recurrent.

Because each time you were forced to see Jimin's face, you were also forced to experience a strange knot of discomfort and humilliation growing in your stomach in his mere presence. It's not like Jimin did anything specific to make you feel that way. He might not even do it on purpose, or his intentions might not be entirely evil. Maybe he simply didn't realize how he always avoided being by your side like the plague, or how his body immediately tensed and he balled his hands into fists everytime you were less than two feet away from him, or how he would look at you from the corner of his eye everytime you decided you speak, almost as if he was waiting for you to shut up to finally let out the air he was containing inside his lungs in relief.

Yeah, Park Jimin most likely didn't even realize he was being a rude and disrespectful son of a bitch.

And with time, you couldn't help but attribute that disdain and hostility that Park Jimin always directed at you to the many undeniable differences that constituted each of you. Park Jimin, with his impeccable and always well ironed Prada shirts, his spotless trousers, jewelry that probably costed more than three of your annual salaries, and always emanating that Givenchy fragance that screamed "wealth!" every rare occasion you could experiment his presence next to you. Exactly two years after that first meeting with Park Jimin, you hadn't been able to avoid reciprocating that feeling of contempt towards him. Not when you were the only victim of his arrogance. Everybody loved Park Jimin, and Park Jimin loved everyone.

Except you.

Clinging to your glass of Don Pérignon and finishing the rest of the liquid in one go, you try to snap out of your own thoughts, reminding yourself to return to the conversation you're currently having with Taehyung about a pretty waitress that he's met during one of his art exhibitions (or at least that's what you think you caught him say) and forcing yourself by all means to stop observing the friendly and kind smiles that Park Jimin was shooting to those present from across the room and that you will never be able to achieve.

"_____? Are you even listening to me, darling?" Taehyung's voice is what makes you finally look away from the dumb blond standing on the opposite side of the room, blinking a few times before clearing your throat.

"Sorry, Tae." letting out a sigh, you try to brush back and put in place the strand of hair that escaped the intricate hairdo you had tried and so miserably failed to do yourself to try to fit in and hopefully impress such environment of preppy and privilaged people (ahem, Park Jimin) falling on your forehead as best as you can. "Just been really stressed this week and I'm on another planet. You know how I feel about Christmas. I think I need a new flute of . Or five."

Taehyung sends you a look full of empathy and places one of his hands in your shoulder, squeezing lightly in a comforting way. "I'll get you another one. I'll be right back." You quickly interrupt him though, to prevent him from standing up before you.

"No, really. I'll go. I need some fresh air anyways, if you don't mind." And of course Taehyung doesn't mind, so you get on your feet as graceously as your tipsy state allowed you to (who told you it was a good idea to drink three glasses in less than thirty minutes of the extremely expensive champagne Taehyung had brought to the Christmas party he had organized and why did it convince you it would appease your anxiey?) and make your way towards the table where the rest of the bottles are. A table dangerously close to the conversation Jimin and that friend of Lisa (whose name you don't remember) were having.

Both are with their backs turned and, honestly, you take a silent moment to thank God or whatever is up there because the last thing you need right now is yet another awkward interaction with Jimin, so you try as best as you can to refill your glass of champagne to get out of there as soon as possible, praying to make your exit going unnoticed.

But no. Because the stars and the universe loved to align to make you suffer! They love to play with your karma and they love making you damn that one day you didn't help that lady cross the street. They love making you regret buying those plastic straws. They love making you feel guilty for hacking your neighbour's Wifi when you run out of money to pay for yours. Because the moment you try to take a hold of the bottle in your hands, it slips out of your grasp, and you're watching in slow motion how the sparkling berverage ends up spilling all over the extremely expensive (or so you assume. Balenciaga maybe) suit pants Park Jimin decided to wear that night.

Everything is kind of blurry and you can't even hear anything. You can only watch as Park Jimin turns around, lips parted and eyebrows furrowed, until his eyes find you, the bane of his existance and immediately recognizing the culprit of his now drenched piece of clothing. And you can watch as, once again, his gaze turns almost black and narrow lightly as to reprimend you for what you've caused. But of course he doesn't say a word. He has nothing to say. He doesn't even look surprised. No. Because obviously, Park Jimin knew that if there was somebody in this room willing to ruin his night, it would be you, and only you.

"Shit!" you're the first one to break the strained silence, but that only makes Jimin flinch. "Shit, shit, shit. I'm so fucking dumb! J-Jimin, I'm so sorry, let me just go grab a paper tow-"

"Don't." his voice cuts through you. Literally cuts through you. Because it's not often that Park Jimin decides to aim his words at you, but everytime he does it holds the same frigid tone. Like knives trying to painfully stab your being. "Just, don't."

In reality, you don't know a lot of things and you don't know what causes what happens next. You don't know if it's the specific time of the year, you don't know if it's your internal stress, or if it's Park Jimin, his voice, or the fact that he will never like you. But it's instant. They way something compresses your chest, and suddenly your eyes are not glaced by the alcohol but by something wet that threatens to flow. You would never admit to anyone they're tears.

So, shutting your mouth and swallowing the uncomfortable feeling of anguish in your throat, leaving your flute forgotten on the table and grabbing the bottle instead. Without saying a word, your feet start moving up the stairs of the ridiculously enourmous house Taehyung owns towards the first free and empty balcony you can find. Free of people and free of Park Jimin.

Closing the large window behind you, you allow yourself to close your eyes and take a deep breath; the icy temperature outside immediately welcoming you. Although the hairs on your arm stand up and you know you're probably going to catch a cold (because the dress you've chosen for the dinner is not at all appropiate for such winter climate), at least the tension in your body seems to disappear while oxygen keeps that ugly feeling in your heart at bay from continuing to choke you.

With shaky hands, you take a big gulp straight from the champagne bottle. Fuck Park Jimin. No man will ever have the power to make you feel what you're feeling right now. Fuck Park Jimin. And fuck his beautiful face and his ability to make you tremble and fear looking like an idiot. Fuck his fancy clothes and his perfect manicured hands and his marvelous but frigthening presence.

Knock knock.

The sound makes you jump back from the window, hand grasping your chest while you turn around, coming face to face with the man in question. Your first instinct is to ignore him. But that thought is already out of the way when it's him the one who struggles with the window lock before opening and taking a step towards you. You step back as he steps in, raising your head up high and puffing your chest. Because your second instinct is to tell Park Jimin to go fuck himself.

"_____, I would like to-"

"You would like to what?" Jimin looks taken aback at your harshness. Alcohol has always been a weapon of mass destruction in your system, provoking words to flow too easily and without filter out of your mouth, more than they already do when you're sober. Especially when it's mixed with the frustration you've been harboring inside of you for two years. That's why when the words start to come out, they won't stop. "To make me feel like shit one more time? To look at me with that fucking conceited face trying to make me feel like you're better than me? Or would you like to ignore me once again as you always do everytime we're in the same fucking room to make sure I know you hate my mere existance, even if it's just the two of us right now?"

The steam leaving your lips due to the accelerated beat of your heart blurs his face for an instant while he looks at you dumbfounded. The silence and his expression makes you scoff, an acidic smile adorning your face while you take another sip of your drink because even with such a stupid face, he still looks delectable with his white shirt and ruined pants. You turn around, removing a tear that you hadn't even realized had fallen during your speech and that, frankly, you were hoping he hadn't either. You would blame it on the cold, anyway.

This time, a gust of wind running through you from head to toe, making you forget of Park Jimin's presence looming behind you, reminding you it's still December and the fabric of your dress is doing nothing to conceal you from the cold.

But before you can do anything about it and blame yourself for being dumb and not taking your coat with you before deciding to step into balcony, Park Jimin surprises you once again, this time by placing his navy blue blazer over the naked skin of your arms.

Your back straightens when you feel his warm breath caressing the back of your neck, at the same time that a voice you have never heard Park Jimin use with you echoes in your ears.

"I really don't hate you, _____. I..." Jimin wets his lips. His body trembles, but it's not due to lacking his own coat, while his brain hurriedly searches for words eloquent and adequate enough to explain voice his thoughts. "I like you very much, _____."

Scoffing again while you shake your head, you push down with all your inner strenght the incipent fluttering of butterflies in your stomach that Jimin has managed to cause in just a matter of seconds. It's probably the longest sentence you've heard from him in two years, and you don't exactly understand why your body is reacting the way it is. But you're also not willing to give Park Jimin the satisfaction of knowing that. He doesn't deserve it anyway. So with all the courage you can muster, you turn around with your hands clenching.

And even though being at such short distance from Jimin is a bit overwhelming and unexpected for you, the irritation still making your blood bubble is enough to not let a man as handsome as him derail you from your current circumstances.

"Well, fuck you Park Jimin. You certainly have a funny fucking way to sh-" his hands cradling your jaw that pull you closer to him and his lips that silent you roughly, but with surprising care. Only for a moment. A moment in which your body betrays you and make you melt into hir warmth. But his voice, low and sinfully husky, murmurs against your lips.

"God, that mouth of yours..." he goes back to attacking your own lips, this time more firm than before, snatching a sigh from you. The sound has his tongue asking for permission into your mouth, and with your body betraying you once again, you part your lips to allow him in. It's him who whimpers this time, while one of his hand moving until it reaches the bottle in your hand and letting it drop carelessly onto the floor, ignoring the sound of glass shattering and the future scolding you'll get from Taehyung. Instead, he sneaks that same hand on your waist, pulling your body flush against his, fingers digging onto your skin. "It's been driving me crazy for two years. Two years, _____."

He mumbles between kisses and swipes his tongue against yours, while he stars walking the both of you until your back meets the nearest concrete wall.

"Two years of having to hear the incessant filthy words that leave your mouth..." his own stop their movements and you catch yourself before begging him to reattaching his lips to yours, enjoying instead the path of wet kisses and bruises his lips traile from your chin to the pulse of your neck "...and trying my best to hide the painful boners I get whenever you're nearby."

With your eyes shut, your hands are back in motion, ignoring the voice in your head reminding you he's still an asshole and finding their way between Jimin's soft golden strands of hair. He hums in appreciation, sending goosebumps all over your body. "So, s-so why not do anything about it sooner?" you say, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe properly.

You feel Jimin's body tensing before you and he ceases the movement of his lips against your neck. Breaking away, your heart stops, afraid you might have ruined the moment. But Jimin's in search of your eyes, eyebrows very lighlty raised, the intensity of his gaze pinning you in place. You don't know for how long you stare at each other until Jimin comes out of the trance, eyes descending over your flushed cheeks, the very same color as your lips and the soft flesh of your neck until they reach your cleavage, the glimmering fabric encasing your breasts, taunting him the same way they had been doing all night long.

"You scare me so much..." and then, one of his hands repeats the same journey his eyes just did, until he touches your shoulder, right under his own blazer. "Everytime I look at you, all I can think of why the hell a girl as real as you like you would even glance my way." he slides the strap of your dress slowly tentatively, just enough for you to stop his advances if you chose so. You don't. "You're smart in ways I could never compare, so funny it makes me jealous, and so pretty it leaves me speechless. You're...You're everything I'm not."

His voice resonates in the atmosphere, and you would love to blame it on the cold again for how your body has reacted, but your body heat has increased so much since he started kissing you that it would be stupid not to admit that it's just the effect that Park Jimin has on you tonight. You're sure he would've had the same effect if it had happened before.

Your now uncovered breast doesn't even has to suffer the consequences of the icy wind, because one of Jimin's arms quickly comes around you to hold your body against his, lifting you ever so slighty until your erect nipple is at the same level as his mouth and his lips are enveloping it in their warmth. You gasp his name, and that encourages his teeth to tug softly before his tongue stars moving in circes.

"My God, you're so perfect." Your head spins while you hold onto his shoulders as tight as you can, the undeniable heat roaming all over your form, hips involuntarily rutting his incipent erection poking your abdomen. "Been thinking about this since that night we first met." Looking for relief, Jimin mirrors your movements without ceasing the administrations on your chest, as one of his hands lifts one of your thighs to wrap around his waist, closing the short gap remaining between the both of you.

"Ohmygod! F-fuck, Jimin," trying to form coherent phrases is almost impossible, not with Jimin finding a slow and tortuous rythm with his hips, his clothed cock rubbing against your core. Something shifts in the air, because Jimin stops abusing your nipple with a loud pop, and shuts you up by pressing his mouth onto yours in an urgent, dirty and desperate kiss. You could almost hear him swearing, while his hand keeps your jaw in place.

"S-stop talking like that, ______." his voice, inaudible, and his face now hiding in the crook of your neck, the thrusting of his hips speeding up, more and more frantic this time. The hand not holding your thigh against his hipbone reveals your other breast, hand covering it and giving it a light squeeze before tugging at your unattended nipple between his forefinger and his thumb while his tongue and teeth mark the skin on your neck.

"Hell, I've been dying to stuff your mouth with my cock to prevent you from such foul language," the soft whimpers leacving your mouth coax him into taking the hem of your dress and bunching the fabric until his fingers easily find the place in your body calling to him the most through the lace. It's immediate, how his fingers dampen at the first touch, surprising the both of you, and how your body jolts and an embarrassing sob escapes your throat. "How-how are you this wet? Holy hell, I could just slide right in..."

And as he says that, one of his fingers pull aside the fabric of your underwear and glide into you, so easy. You insides burning while he fingers you, another finger being added with his thumb rubbing circles on your nub. And fuck, you're not sure if you're just too horny and Park Jimin is a magician with his hands, or maybe it's the way he keeps mouthing at your chest and whispering how soaked you are, but you don't think you've ever been so close to cumming in such a short period of time.

"W-whats stopping you?" you manage with a voice that doesn't even resembles yours, but before your hands can even make work of the zipper of his trousers, he pulls his finger out from your center, causing you to whine in protest.

Jimin licks his lips, eyebrows framing the dark expression that his eyes ooze. Although the desire in his eyes is more than evident, it is also evident the faint hesitation in them. Because Park Jimin doesn't do things this way. Park Jimin was raised in a world of correct manners and conservationism. A world that has taught him when and how to act. And as badly as he is dying to fuck you against the wall of Taehyung's ridiculously inmense house, he also wants to do the right thing.

"Let me take you on a date."

Park Jimin has been spoiled his whole life. Being born in a well-off family has always provided him of everything he had ever wanted and more. From the innecessary number of toys Santa Claus left under his Christmas tree every year since he was a baby, to his fisrt extravagant sports car at the age of eighteen. Park Jimin has never been a greedy or needy man. How could he, when he's had everything he's ever wished in the palm of his hands. He has never missed anything in his entire life. Hasn't missed a roof over his head, warm food on his plate or brand new designers clothes each week.

It has taken him two years to control himself. He still remembers that night he first met you, just like he remembers every single time you both had coincided in the same place at the same time. He remembered your scent, had memorized your figure over your pieces of clothing and had tried as best as he could to keep a distance from you because he knew you would never give him the time of day. How could you? You probably despised everything he was because he was definitely nothing like you, and that thought intimidated the fuck out of him. He was a mess everytime you wear nearby. Never relied on his voice because he knew he would stutter if you ever spoke to him, could never trust his eyes because if he ever looked at you he was afraid he wouldn't be able to look away.

And everytime you spoke, shit, that voice of yours always cursing here and there left him wondering how would you sound in a different setting and if you would still be that badmouthed. More specifically, between his sheets. So he did everything he could to minimize your interactions as much as possible. He just never thought he would come across as such a jerk. It was never his intention to hurt you, and seeing you cry that night (although you denied you did, over and over again) seriously made him realize he wanted to make things right.

He was trying really, really hard to keep it in his pants, to be the same well composed and controled Park Jimin he had mastered himself to be.

But that damn dress.

After seeing that little black dress hugging your figure when you started taking off your coat at the restaurant, the brief flash of thigh tights that you accidentaly (or not so accidentally) had blessed him with by crossing a leg over the other, that exposed collarbone calling his name and those heeled sandals with straps wrapping around your ankles, reminding him of the snake tempting Eve, Park Jimin was sure he needed to dig into that apple more than anything he has ever needed before.

That's why he surprises you right after you both finish the second course meal by telling the waitress you won't be having desert, at which you look at him somewhat indignant. But the look he shoots you is enough to make you understand if somebody was going to have desert tonight, it would be him. In his Mercedes.

"I'm gonna-" you gasp, fingers tugging at the soft strands of his now ruined blond hair, his head between your thighs and your legs thrown over his shoulders. His hands have a grip of the meaty flesh of your ass, holding you firmly againt his mouth as it works wonders on your clit. You're sure it hasn't even been ten minutes since Jimin had opened your legs in the backseat of his car, not even bothering to take your underwear off, simply moving the fabric aside before diving in, and you already feel yourself on the edge of an orgasm.

"I know." voice vibrating right into your core, he slows down his administrations, tongue carefully and delicately lapping at your folds while he enjoys the feeling of your fingers loosening their grip and fondly brushing his hair back. You meet his eyes as he pushes a finger inside your core and your whole body twists in agony.

"N-no!"

Jimin stops immediately, lifting his head and focusing his concerned eyes on you. He's about to ask you if he's done anything wrong, but you're fast to roughly pull him up by his hair until his face is leveled with yours. You answer him by kissing him and he returns the kiss with the same eagerness, and now it's your hands that are looking for his cock, palming him through his pants.

"Your dick. Inside. Right Now." you punctuate each phrase with a kiss and he only stops kissing you to pout.

"But I wanted you to cum on my tongue." but still, he's putty in your hands when you undo the botton and the zipper. "Wouldn't you rather me fucking you in my bed, where we're more comfortable?" you notice the slight quivering of his voice when you slide his trousers and boxers down, just enough to pull him out.

"You can eat me and fuck me as many times as you want tonight, tomorrow and whenever you'd like, but right now..." none of you contain the moan in unision that leaves each of your mouths when just the head of his lenght comes in contact with your entrance. "I really can't wait anymore." brushing your lips over his, you lower your voice. "Wanna get on my hands and knees for you."

Park Jimin has tried to do things the right and appropiate way throughout all his life. He's been a professional from a very young age on how to be in charge of his emotions, his desires and his impulses. Always well mannered and well composed.

But it's in this moment that Jimin comes to the realization that the only thing that has ever made him lose his mind and self control, is you. Seeing you like this, ass up, grinding your drenched and still thong clad cunt all over his precum dripping lenght, he can't control the way his hand bunches the fabrick of that damn dress over your waist, then flies to your right cheek, a sharp sound of skin filling the air, tearing a gasp from your throat.

"God, I'm-I'm sorry. Couldn't help mys-"

"Do it again."

And he does, the palm of his hand now leaving a reddenning print on your flesh, making you jolt back involuntarily, aligning yourself to the head of his cock and like he had hoped, he slides right in. Not all the way, because Jimin is sure he would cream inside you too soon and he wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he did. He wets his lips, clenching his jaw and dropping his palm one more time, hand more steady and purposeful.

"You like it rough?" voice hoarse and a hand beside your head holding himself, your back to his chest, twitching beneath him as he soothes the sting with his free one.

"I like you rough." turning your head slowly to peer at him from the corner of your eye, your hips moving on their own accord trying to take him deeper. Your head is suddenly pulled back harshly, Jimin's fingers tangling in your hair as his own hips close the remaining gap between your bodys in an abrupt thurst. You squeal, Jimin's cock finally filling you up to the hilt just like you wanted him to be, the pleasure making your arms wobble and finding it harder to mantain your balance.

Jimin's breath fawns over your ear, his tongue darting out to suck on your skin sending chills down your spine. "You're such a dream." he groans, torturously sliding out of your core that's gripping around his shaft for dear life. A whine of protest escapes your lips and he tightens the hold on your hair in response, diving right back in. You fall forward, your arms' strenght betraying you as his thrusts find a new rhythm. With your eyes closed shut, you try to muffle the sound of your voice with the back of your hand as Jimin's lips place soft kisses to your exposed shoulder.

"Don't be quiet." he stands straight, the pull on your hair arching your back in such a enticing way it was Jimin look away for a second, cock buried inside of you and his hips faltering. "Been dying to have you like this for so long."

Another clap of his hand against your right cheek, and a particular stroke of his dick that has you mewling as your climax approached again. "S-so good, Jimin. Oh my god."

"You're gonna cum for me?" his fingertips leave bruises on your skin and the windows of his Mercedes are foggy, just like your mind. You can't concentrate on anything that's not Jimin's cock sliding in and out and how much you wished this had happened way sooner. "Gonna cum for me like a good slut?"

Park Jimin always takes his time. Always does things nice and slow to assure the best outcome possible.

But he can't contain the acceleration of his hips against yours as your walls clench impossibly tight around his cock, your orgasm finally taking over . Can't contain himself from falling forward again, hand twisting your head in his direction and his mouth searching for yours in a fiery and messy kiss. And he most definitely can't barely contain himself from cumming when your you ask him to spit in your mouth.

"You're gonna kill me." he breathes, removing himself off you and quickly maneuvering you on your back, his dick finding its way back inside you. Picking up right where he left off, skin slapping against skin in an obscene melody, he collects a considerate amount of saliva in his mouth before dropping it into your welcoming tongue, watching you swallow with a smile he hopes he'll be the only one to see in the future.

And that's what has the last bit of his self restraint slipping from his fingers. He somehow manages to rip the top of your dress down, fabric tearing until your tits are free and his mouth is attacking your nipples, white strings of his release panting your walls, some of it them oozing out that he fucks back right into you.

It's between ragged breaths, kisses and tender carresses that Jimin promises you more dates in the future and new dresses that he can't promise not to savage apart again.

#jimin #park jimin #jimin smut #park jimin smut #bts smut #bts #pjm #pjm smut #bad bunny is retiring like who the fuck does he think he is to decide when he gets to retire???#nah bb WE decide when you retire

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amillionsmiles · 4 years ago

Text

in your bedroom after the war (Dick/Artemis)

Title: in your bedroom after the war Summary: As far as coping mechanisms go, Artemis could be doing worse. At least her method has a gymnast’s ass. / Post-Invasion, pre-Outsiders. Rated M. A/N: I have one (1) agenda and that is messy grieving fuck buddies who are each other’s ride-or-dies. if you are not into fic that sits squarely in sad feral horny territory, then this is probably not your speed.

[Read and review here] or continue under the cut.

| GOTHAM

| JANUARY 14, 2017; 12:05 AM EST

Artemis is a bit heavier than she was in her teenage years, but her feet land lightly on the fire escape by the window. An hour ago, she’d called her mom from Metropolis, promising she’d be home by midnight. Ever since her daughter faked her death a year ago, Paula Nguyen has become even more of a worrywart, and Artemis knows that the five minutes she’s running late are going to cause her to receive an earful.

“Didn’t think I’d see you back in this neck of the woods.” A familiar figure drops from the roof above onto the rung below her.

“Nightwing.”

She’s not surprised that he’s been keeping tabs. Officially, he’s been on a leave of absence for the past six months, but Dick, like her, is vigilant in his grief.

She’d come back to Gotham because it put her closer to Metropolis and Beta Squad’s continued investigation of LexCorp, but the truth is that she could have Zeta-tubed from Palo Alto easily. Their—her—apartment had been no good though, not without Wally. So she’d left most of her things in storage to figure out later and moved back in with her mom. On days when Artemis can’t muster the energy to get out of bed, Paula wheels determinedly around the kitchen, ready to whip up some mì xào or a warm bowl of mì gói. They play card games and laugh about how bad Wally was at tiến lên the first time Paula tried to teach him. Your boy has no patience, he always wants to play his strongest cards right away, her mom had teased, and Wally had protested, I make it a rule to always put my best foot forward! and Artemis had loved him even more then.

Loved. Loves. She hates the past tense.

“I mean, were you ever going to ask me to grab coffee?”

She can see the bits of Wally in his cracks. In a room together, it was always easy to tell they were best friends from the way they riffed off each other. The acrobat and the speedster: all verbal gymnastics and fast-moving quips. But unlike Wally, who liked poking fun because he liked getting attention, Dick is at his wittiest when trying to avoid talking about himself.

Artemis reaches out and pulls him to sit down beside her. She makes a show of looking at her watch.

“How’s… 12:15 AM this Saturday?”

Dick pretends to check it against his mental schedule. If his is anything like hers, it probably goes: Wake up. Exercise (beating up bad guys counts). Mourn.

“Yeah, seems like I can swing it.”

“Perfect,” says Artemis, sliding up the glass panes to let them into her childhood bedroom. “I’ve got just the stuff.”

In the kitchen, Brucely stirs briefly from his dog bed to sniff the air and yip, then curls back asleep. Paula hands Dick a mug, waiting for him to take a sip before saying, “So you were the one who had the brilliant plan to have my daughter fake her death.”

Dick splutters; from the table, Artemis rises to his defense. “Mom,” she says. “Leave him be.”

Setting his cup down, Dick leans against the cabinets, bending his head slightly and rubbing the back of his neck. He does a good job of appearing chastised, and Artemis wants to roll her eyes, if only because she’s heard from Bette and Raquel that this pose is far too effective at convincing women to want to forgive him or try again.

“I’m not leading much of anything these days, if that’s at all a comfort to you.”

“Hmph.” Paula sniffs. “You live alone?”

“Yeah.” Dick shoots Artemis a questioning look over her mom’s head. Artemis shrugs.

“What do you do to fill the time?”

“A lot of reading. Gotham’s library system actually has a pretty good selection, believe it or not. I’ve also gotten really into meditating.”

“And you don’t sleep.”

Dick stiffens. For the first time, he looks exposed, a boy with too much guilt and too much time on his hands.

“I do. Tonight I was just… restless.”

Paula nods and backs up her wheelchair so she can sit by Artemis, curling her fingers over Artemis’s hand and squeezing. She raises her drink, Artemis and Dick following suit, the three of them toasting to invisible losses.

“Aren’t we all.”

Later, back on the fire escape, Dick taps his fingers against the railing, jittery. “I feel like I need to start doing jumping jacks. What was in that stuff?”

Artemis bites back a smile. “Yeah, Vietnamese coffee packs a hit. That’s my bad. Probably should have given you something non-caffeinated at this hour.”

“It’s fine. I’ll jog it out, or something.” He turns to go, but Artemis stops him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, listen—it was good seeing you tonight. And if you need someone to talk to…” What she really means is: it’d be nice to be around someone who’s hurting as much as I am. Not to say that the rest of the team wasn’t as torn up over Wally’s death, but she and Dick had been ground zero. Closest to the blast.

After a pause, Dick nods. “Yeah… I could use a sparring partner, actually. I’ll send you an address.”

“Okay.” Satisfied, Artemis withdraws her hand, curling her fingers into her palm.

It feels like a start.

Dick’s directions lead Artemis to Wayne Manor; from there he takes her to the Bat Cave.

“I thought you were striking out on your own,” Artemis says, using her forearms to deflect a kick to her face. Dick grunts and recovers, throwing a punch to her stomach; she dances out of the way.

“I am. I just pop in here from time to time because Bruce has better equipment. Plus there’s less of a chance of me disturbing the neighbors.” He gestures to the eerily blue-lit stone walls around them.

Artemis feints and goes low, ducking under Dick’s guard. Two quick hits to Dick’s sternum pushes him back, before he gets a hand on her wrist and twists her around so that her back is pressed against his chest.

“Weren’t we supposed to be talking?”

Kicking his shin, Artemis breaks free. “All right, fine. I’ll start.” Jab. “I keep wanting a scapegoat.” Kick. “Like, one person to blame, instead of something as big as the Reach. But it’s not some giant revenge thing, and I know Wally wouldn’t want me to go down that sort of all-consuming rabbit hole even if it was, and that pisses. Me. Off.” On those last words, she manages to use Dick’s momentum against him and flips him over her shoulder.

For a minute, it’s so quiet between them she can hear the faint plip of water dripping from a stalactite into the water below the sparring dais. Still lying on the floor, Dick confesses, “I keep hearing him.”

“I make a joke to myself and he’s there, in my ear, with the punchline. And then…” He passes a hand over his face. “And then I realize that the real punchline is him being gone.”

Slowly, Artemis approaches him. She feels like she did when they were undercover at Haly’s circus so many years ago, that brief moment of hangtime before their hands connected in the air. She means to sit down next to him, pat his shoulder, she doesn’t know what, but instead Dick sweeps her legs out from under her and she goes down hard, the air whooshing out of her chest as she falls flat on her back.

“Agh!” The release sets something loose inside her. Next thing she knows, she’s yelling again, louder, just because.

Dick catches on and then it’s just the two of them shouting, their voices echoing through the cavern, threading around and piling atop each other like a flock of birds. After they’re done, Dick rolls so that they’re lying side by side.

“You know, when we were starting out—when we first became friends—I used to make fun of Wally that if he kept talking so much while running he was bound to swallow more bugs, or something. And he’d just shoot back like, ‘Nah dude, you think I’m not fast enough to see them and dodge them in the air?’ But you know how he was always so hungry after missions? One time I was so mad at him I put a bug in his sandwich. I’ve never forgotten the look on his face after he bit into it and I said, dodge that.”

“You didn’t.” Artemis gasps and covers her mouth, horrified, but she can see it so vividly: the colors draining from Wally’s face, making his freckles pop even more against his skin, the same greenish tint his cheeks took the time they went to Vietnam and he got food poisoning. He’d spent two days feverishly glaring up at the mosquito netting, and Artemis had draped cold hand towels over his forehead and promised she wasn’t going to leave him for the very obliging boy who kept bringing them ice.

“I did.” Dick is gleeful. “Really put the ‘rank’ in prank.”

Artemis snorts; the snort turns into a full-blown guffaw. Dick turns toward her, laughing too. His hair is matted with sweat but still soft; it brushes against her forehead.

It feels so good to be close to someone again, to be able to flip on a dime from sadness to frustration to anger to laughter and not have to explain herself. She can’t remember the last time she smiled and didn’t feel guilty about it, and she means it more affectionately than anything when she reaches over and brings Dick’s mouth to hers, like if she inhales whatever they’ve temporarily managed to create here between them, it’ll be enough to tide her over for the next few months. For a second, he’s warm and responsive, before his lips stiffen and he pulls back.

“I shouldn’t have done that.”

Shouldn’t, couldn’t, wouldn’t. Shouldn’t beat yourself up about it, shouldn’t blame yourself for getting back in the game. Artemis is sick of people telling her how to deal, how it’s supposed to go. It’ll get better and then it doesn’t. People talk like there are guidebooks for this kind of shit, like it’s a marathon she just needs to pace herself through. And it’s the stupidest thing, but she misses being held.

She sits up and crosses her arms, resisting the urge to curl in on herself. “You didn’t do anything. I’ll go.”

“No, Artemis, wait, I don’t think you should go, I just want to understand what’s going on—”

“I want you to touch me, okay?” she explodes. “I want you to touch me because he’s never going to again and I know you loved him too and—and maybe if it’s you, I won’t feel so desperately alone.”

Dick looks stricken, and then, hesitantly, he reaches for her. His eyes are so blue, the kind of crushed eggshell you’d use to make a paint. “You’re not alone.”

“Prove it,” she says, vision blurring with tears—wanting, needing him closer, and then his hairline is up against hers again and his nose is at her cheek, his mouth at her jaw, soft but with a willingness to bruise. Don’t ask me what we’re about to do, Artemis silently begs, and Dick doesn’t.

Wally had been a restless lover. Always turning them over, switching positions. Artemis had taken it as a challenge, part of the ongoing competition that defined their relationship. Deep down, she’d known that Wally would be just as content if the rest of their sex life consisted solely of spooning gently on Sundays, which, if anything, was why she’d been so eager to experiment—because it felt like an easy gift she could give, not something she had to master to “maintain excitement” or make him stay.

She’s not sure what she expected from Dick. Maybe that’s a comfort—that she wasn’t fantasizing before they happened, wondering about all the mechanics of how it would go. Dick lets her call the shots, lets her ride him into the ground, the grip of his fingers around her thighs the only reminder she isn’t just angling toward oblivion. When he presses his thumb between her legs, it’s a weird sort of anchor—like hearing a voice pick up on a line you thought was dead. She has a body, and here’s someone on the other end of it, caring about her release. As soon as that thought hits, the relief shudders through her; she keeps rocking long enough to feel Dick follow, a stutter and a grunt, before she collapses boneless over him, the sweat of his skin a comforting stickiness against her cheek.

Internally, she apologizes to Bruce for desecrating his training space. Then again, they’re hardly the first of the Justice League to get handsy in less than appropriate places. She’s seen how Black Canary and Green Arrow act around each other.

Below her, Dick catches his breath. The rush of blood—his or hers—is loud in her ears.

“I didn’t think you’d be so…” Giving, she means to say, but it gets lost on her tongue. “I mean, Zatanna…” she trails off again.

If Dick’s embarrassed at the prospect of his ex-girlfriend having blabbed about the details of their sex life to Artemis, he doesn’t show it. His fingers find a snag in her hair; gently, he works it loose. The air smells hedonistic. He keeps combing. Nice is the only word she can think to describe it, and that makes her want to cry again, so she squeezes her eyes shut.

“Thank you,” she whispers against his chest.

Dick pauses his ministrations. He flattens his palm against the base of her neck and just—holds her there.

“Don’t mention it.”

When she goes home that afternoon to shower, she runs the water on full blast for a long time.

Armed with Chinese food, she visits Dick’s place the next day intent on making amends. Dick doesn’t even act surprised; he just points to the glass coffee table where she can set the bag of chopsticks, napkins, and takeout.

“I’m trying to decide what to watch.”

There’s really no need for him to stand in front of the TV the way he does, one hand propped on his hip as he clicks through options with the remote. Artemis lets herself ogle, a bit. The surest way to blow past what happened between them yesterday is to be honest with herself, right? And as far as coping mechanisms go, Artemis could have done worse. At least her method has a gymnast’s ass.

“Any preferences?”

“Between what?” asks Artemis, cracking open the carton of lo mein and settling back against the cushions. The Netflix suggestion algorithm onscreen paints a condemning picture of Dick’s tastes. “True crime or… true crime?”

Wally had been really into nature documentaries. One time during freshman year, when they were still living on Stanford’s campus, they’d gotten high in Wally’s dorm room and watched Blue Planet. Wally had cried when the seal got flung apart by killer whales.

“I’ll Be Gone in the Dark it is, then,” says Dick. He settles next to her on the couch, peeling back one of the orders and sniffing its contents. “What’s this one?”

“Salt and pepper ribs. They were today’s special.”

“Artemis.” Dick beams. “You really do care about me.”

Ten minutes into the episode begs a single question: “Isn’t it sort of depressing that you spend so much of your day fighting crime, and then you go home to unwind and just watch… more of it?”

Dick shrugs. “It keeps me sharp. And it’s nice seeing other people solve problems.”

“Well, if you ever feel like branching out, there’s a short film about Rubik’s cubes you might like.” Artemis nudges his side. “Remember when you were a scrawny math geek?”

Bringing both hands behind his head, Dick smirks. “Still a math geek. Just not scrawny.”

Artemis stares. That was just a bit of friendly showboating, right? Or was it a flirt? Not trusting herself, she whips her gaze back toward the TV. What feels like eons later, the credits roll.

“Artemis,” Dick says, too soft for having just finished a show about murder. He taps the corner of his mouth. “You’ve got some food stuck.”

She wipes with the back of her hand; a breaded piece of orange chicken emerges as the culprit. Without thinking, she flicks it off, sending it flying somewhere onto Dick’s carpet.

“Oops.”

Chuckling, Dick shakes his head. “I need to vacuum tomorrow, anyways.”

The mention of tomorrow stirs her. “Right. I should head out.”

“Yeah.” Dick rises to help her clean up their mess, holding open the plastic bag so she can toss in the soiled napkins and other bits of trash. “Or—”

He hesitates, but the hesitation’s enough. It might as well be a hand on her wrist, with how it stops her in her tracks. All night, despite what she told herself, she’s been looking for proof: proof that his aloneness fits the shape of hers, that he needs her, too. This time, Dick makes the first move—cups her face in both hands and kisses her, slow and deep and full of heat. Some pepper from the food they ate still lingers on his lips, making her mouth tingle, and Artemis is dizzy and flat on her back on the couch before she knows it, giving in.

Not scrawny at all, she thinks, admiring the solidness of Dick’s knees on either side of her, the weight of his frame as they grind together. The sheer mechanics of it feel very horny-teenager-after-prom, but the way Dick sucks her bottom lip and swallows her breath down with it is decidedly adult. These days, Artemis practically lives in her sports bra, which doesn’t exactly grant easy access, but when Dick’s fingertips skim over the cotton covering her breasts the sensation zings all the way down her spine.

“Need… off…”

“Yeah,” Dick murmurs, humming as he moves down the column of her neck. “Gimme a sec, I’m working on it.”

She’d worn sweats because she figured their bagginess would keep her from sparring again and any potential… situations that could arise from that. Instead, all it means is Dick unties the drawstrings easily, sliding her pants down her legs. Cool air brushes across her as he shifts positions; she wants to sob in relief. His teeth graze her hip and then catch the edge of her panties and—oh. Fuck. The moan tears out of her and she scrabbles at the armrest, hips rising of their own accord. Next time, she is handcuffing Dick to a bed, because what he’s doing with his tongue and fingers should be illegal. She can feel him grinning, the bastard, and the only thing keeping her from crushing his head to a pulp between her thighs is the maneuver he pulls where he hooks her knees over his shoulders, so he can change the angle and plunge in deeper. Artemis shoves the edge of her T-shirt into her mouth at the last minute, only barely managing to muffle her cry.

Dick surfaces from his solo mission looking entirely too satisfied, mouth glistening. Trembling, still, from her orgasm, Artemis squints at him, possessed by some combination of unbridled lust and rage.

“Dick.”

“You calling, or asking?”

“Shut up,” she hisses. She feels like a newborn foal, after what he just did to her, but the urge to dismantle him just as thoroughly sends her surging upward and pushing him back. Dick welcomes their reversed positions by peeling off his shirt and tossing it over his shoulder, all while Artemis works furiously at his belt. It shouldn’t feel so good, to hear the metal clink against his button and watch the leather slide through the loops. To see the shadows the light of the TV casts on him—the lashes on his cheeks, the hollow of his throat. Artemis hadn’t paid much attention the first time, too desperate and caught up a bit in self-loathing, but now she’s actually enjoying this, savoring the flex of Dick’s abs as he pushes up to meet her, his skin pebbling at her touch.

“I’m going to take you apart,” she purrs.

Dick groans and bucks. The sensation sends a sharp spike of pleasure through her, and she clamps down on him tighter, refusing to yield.

“Try me, Tigress,” he rasps, pushing himself up on one arm so he can mouth at her collarbone. With his other hand, he pulls off her hairtie so her hair comes free of her ponytail, and this is going to be a thing with him, isn’t it, him wanting to fuck her while her hair swings loose around her face. She indulges him for a few minutes, claws his back and bites his shoulder for good measure, but then she’s pushing him back down and stretching out her body as languidly as possible to remind him who’s boss. Their pace slows. Dick keeps a hand fisted in her hair, so he can tug her head back in order to keep her neck exposed to his wanton mouth, but his grip gets less sure the closer she pushes him to the edge.

“Art—” says Dick, the single syllable like a painting pinned to the wall, fraught with desire, and then he just lets it drop, the tresses of her hair falling through his fingers. She wants to tell him that he’s beautiful, that he does look like a boy wonder, right then, in the midst of coming undone, chest flushed and hair mussed and pupils blown nearly wide enough to overtake the blue.

She doesn’t, but she stays the night, and that’s close enough.

High-functioning, Artemis’s therapist had called her, before Artemis moved back to Gotham. And it does feel like a high—the sneaking around, the after-hours meet-ups, the back-and-forth. There’s no one really keeping tabs on her, though Artemis has plenty of cover stories if anyone asks (new intel, side reconnaissance, etcetera, etcetera). Her mom eyes her and says, “As long as you’re not planning on staging your own death again, because I will find out and I will kill you this time,” and that’s that. Artemis nearly laughs. If anything, what she’s doing is the opposite, a small resurrection. An entire month and a half passes this way: day trips and dinners and movie nights and Dick and her in a bathtub, in the shower, against a wall. She even wears a gown and heels once, not because they have an actual event to attend, but because Dick has a fantasy that involves taking her from behind in the Wayne Manor library.

They’re in his apartment on a Sunday morning bathing in the afterglow, sheets tangled around their waists. Thank god Dick is one of those assholes that splurged on not only a nice mattress but also a solid bed frame. Artemis reaches over to push the hair out of his eyes. The black tuft on the back of his head that she likes grabbing is fluffed up like a duck's tail, and under the sunlight slanting through the windows, he looks angelic.

“Are you falling back asleep?”

Yawning, Dick snags her around the waist, dragging her to him. She should not delight this much in being manhandled.

“You wore me out,” he complains, tucking his chin over her shoulder.

“They just don’t make them like they used to,” Artemis sighs. Dick growls a little at the dig, fingers tightening against her hip.

Well. If he’s going to nap, she is, too. Comfortably spooned, she snuggles back against him, prepared to drift off.

“Do you think Wally would have wanted…” Dick doesn’t finish the thought.

Artemis turns in his arms. Dick has long eyelashes, and he’s looking at her through them almost bashfully. She places a hand on his chest. Feels his heartbeat thump once, twice.

“I think he would want us to be happy.”

“Are you?” Dick’s voice fades out and he has to swallow hard to clear his throat. “Happy?”

“I’m not… miserable.”

Dick runs his hand up her bare arm, over her shoulder. “Me neither.”

“You know, Wally and I thought…” She bites her lip, remembering a whoosh of air, Wally speeding to her side to kiss her and interrupting her report on the disabled Paris MFD. I know we promised each other we’d get out of this game, but maybe we can have our life together and play hero, too. “We thought we’d have everything.”

Dick’s response isn’t mournful; it’s matter-of-fact. “After my parents died, I never really convinced myself that I could have it all.”

“That sounds like something Batman would say.”

“Does it?”

“A little.”

Once upon a time, Artemis had stood before the team ready to lay bare her darkest secret, waiting to be kicked out. And Dick had shown his hand: he’d known from the beginning and hadn’t cared. You aren’t your family. You’re one of us. She knows he’s second-guessed himself over the years, wondering how fit he actually is to play leader. But for her, trust has always been the easiest thing about the two of them. It was why she’d said yes so easily to his deep cover mission—because she knew that he wouldn’t quit until he’d brought all of them home, that he would do whatever he could to keep them safe.

Taking his face in both her hands, she looks deep into his eyes. “You deserve good things, Dick Grayson.”

“Mm.” Dick smiles into her kiss, hooks his ankle over hers. “Keep telling me that. I’ll start to believe it.”

Jade abandons Will and Lian on a Tuesday, and Artemis’s carefully crafted equilibrium falls apart. At least this time she’s not the one directly being left, unlike when she was a teenager. Her expectations of her older sister had hardly been high, but if she’d plotted them on a graph they’d have trended upward. Now they’ve tanked.

“Did she leave any hint of where she was going?” Dick asks over the whir of his juicer. He’s gotten really into squeezing oranges lately; Artemis can’t complain because he always gives her the first glass.

“It’s Jade. She never wants to be found, and I hardly think she’s about to try an Eat Pray Love type thing.”

“Eat Slash Steal, maybe?” Dick offers, dropping two ice cubes into a drink and setting it in front of her.

Artemis sips, balling up a napkin and throwing it at him at the same time. “Watch it, that’s still my family you’re talking about.”

“I’m sorry. How’s Will taking it?”

“As well as any dad trying to raise a two-year-old by himself would.”

“So, poorly.” Dick taps his finger against the table. “Are they coming here?”

Artemis looks at him blankly. “Why?”

“I figured they might want to be closer to you and your mom now that Jade’s gone. Gotham’s not so bad—you and I turned out fine. And Will probably needs to look into preschools and a babysitter for Lian soon. If you move in with me, you can bring her over whenever.”

The last piece of information slips in so casually she thinks she’s misheard. “What?”

“If you move in with me, you can bring Lian over whenever,” repeats Dick. “This place is as good as yours. You’re over here all the time anyway.”

Suddenly, she can’t breathe. “You’re serious.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

She can’t meet his eyes. “W—Will’s home is in Star City. He’s not going to move.”

Slowly, Dick says, “Okay. But my offer doesn’t really depend on Will.”

Her stuff is still in boxes. She’s still paying for a storage unit almost 3,000 miles away. And Dick is waiting on her so intently it makes her chest hurt.

Artemis stands up. “We’re not doing this.”

Dick’s eyebrows rise. Annoyance, or maybe anger, flickers across his face. “You wanna fill me in on what exactly it is we’re doing, according to you?”

“We’re not going to fight about this like we’re…” In a relationship. In love. In anything other than a messy configuration started by shared grief. She doesn’t say any of it out loud, but she doesn’t need to—Dick’s always been great at reading people, and he’s known all her tells from the start.

“Right.” The single syllable comes out as cold and pointed as an icicle. He pushes his chair back from the table and stands up. The clouds are rolling in, throwing shadows across his features. Even now, Artemis wants to kiss him, wants to be the one to smooth the furrow between his eyebrows away.

“Dick…”

“Do me a favor, will you?” Dick grabs his jacket from the hook by his door, shrugging it on. He pauses, briefly, in the doorway. “Lock my door on the way out.”

That night, she lies alone in her bedroom next to the picture of her, Wally, and Brucely. Brucely snuffles at the foot of her bed and then leaps onto the covers, and this time she doesn’t shoo him off. Neither does she fall asleep.

There was a song Jade had liked to sing, passed down from their mother: a Vietnamese lullaby about a yellow butterfly, to the tune of “Frère Jacques.” The butterfly flies all over the sky. Come and see. Come and see. When it became clear that Artemis’s hair would grow in blond, not black, Jade started pulling it, making her giggle. You’re the yellow butterfly, see?

The taxicab she calls for the airport is bright yellow in the morning light. Plain old civilian travel for plain old civilian business. You don’t need to be a superhero to fly across the country and move in with your brother-in-law and your niece. She’ll sing silly little songs and wash Lian’s hair, and they’ll be a family same as anyone else’s: clumsy, incomplete.

“Artemis.” Dick coalesces out of the fog. They haven’t seen or spoken to each other in a week, and she should be mad that he’s here because it probably means he’s been monitoring her web traffic and caught wind she’d bought plane tickets. Still, all she feels is relief.

Jade had laughed when Artemis had let slip what she was doing during one rare sisterly bonding moment. “Oh, darling sister, your thing with your little bird boy isn’t about moving on. You’re using him as a holding pattern. Try not to damage him too much, hm?” Rankled, Artemis had hung up the phone—what did Jade know about anything, besides shoving it under the rug and pretending it didn’t matter? Now, though, Artemis sees things more clearly. Jade did know something about bodies and what they could and couldn’t fix; after all, isn’t that why she ran?

She worries with the strap of her duffel bag, letting Dick approach.

“If this were a romcom, you would have waited until I got to the airport and then run through security.”

“If this were a romcom,” says Dick, stopping in front of her and shoving his hands in his pockets, “I’d be trying to make you stay.”

She thinks he might be the one person left on this planet who knows her best. She thinks they could save each other, if they’d let themselves try. But they each have work to do on their own, first.

Setting down her bag, she tucks her face into the crook of his neck and breathes him in. Wherever else she goes, this spot will always feel like forgiveness. Nose buried in her hair, Dick squeezes her back.

The taxi driver rolls down his window. “Is this guy coming with us or not?”

Artemis pulls back, and there’s so much sky in Dick’s eyes.

“You know where to find me,” she says.

| STAR CITY

| JULY 29, 2018; 7:30 AM PST

“Who are you here to recruit this time?” Will asks, leaning against the doorframe, but Artemis doesn’t need an answer, doesn’t need any details but the black hair she can see just over Will’s shoulder, Dick’s voice at the end of a line.

He jumps, and she jumps with him. They’ll figure out everything else as they go.

Before Dick can respond, she says: “I’m in.”

#young justice #artemis crock #dick grayson #traught #dick x artemis #my writing #fanfiction #ff: yj

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detectivesplotslies · 3 years ago

Text

Too many memories, two many occupants

Description: The game is over, and someone has to answer for how it played out. Tsumugi's the obvious answer, as perfectly so as her cosplay. Features VR AU and postgame spoilers. Word Count: 3591 Read on AO3 here

Chapter 1: Beyond Notice

During the trial it had been a lot easier. Having an opposition, having a role, having a part to stick to. There was the audience, there were the fans. There were her brilliant cosplays! There was the vote. She had known what she’d press. She knew where it would get her.

Waving her last, she knew what it really meant. But something within her still grew quiet. Something mourned. The triumphant grin of despair wouldn’t surface, no matter how hard she tried. Her contestants. Her classmates. Her victims. Her cast. They had sentenced her… themselves… to this.

Even though she knew better, she felt numb. Her feet were heavy, rooted to the spot. The others were out of sight. Her executioner flew around above, raining his destruction down on them while she retreated inwards, her vision narrowing. Waving, as her cosplay fell away, as the school crumbled, she should feel the heat of the explosions, but none of that reached her.

She saw the rock. She made no move. Part of her was ready. Part of her was resigned.

It went dark.

Even though Tsumugi knew better she was almost relieved.

Until it was time to wake up.

---

Coming to feels hazy, disorienting. Her limbs jerk awkwardly, as if starting awake from a nightmare, eyes still seeing darkness but hands brushing against cords, glass and consoles. A pair of hands brush her cheek as they remove her headset, and she flinches involuntarily. One of her own hands goes to her face, tugging at its electrical tethers, still taped to her in various nerve points.

She’s not wearing her glasses. Panic washes over her just as the blinding light of the room that refuses to adjust for her does, and her other hand frantically reaches around the pod for where they must have fallen. She’d never leave her glasses. Without her glasses she’s not… she’s…

The light becomes less intense as she blinks, and she can make out the blurry silhouettes of three people in front of her, standing at attention, waiting patiently. One holds a hand outstretched with something silver clasped in it.

Shakily she takes it, unfolding the arms and sliding them carefully onto her face. The unfocused world comes back into sharp clarity. She half recognizes the faces of those who are in front of her. The silence remains. Is she supposed to say something? Eventually the one who returned her glasses clears her throat, and gestures to the others. They begin to remove the wires quickly and efficiently. Tsumugi crosses her arms and rubs at them idly as the rest are secured, feeling like this should be a more private process. As the last wire is removed the one who’s clearly in charge clears her throat again and nods to her.

“The Board would like to see you.”

Slowly, Tsumugi pushes herself out of the seat, wobbling on her feet as she does so, gripping the side of the chair shaped pod, carefully avoiding the lit LCD consoles lining the edges. The trio before her make no moves to help, nor does she request it. The legs beneath her quiver a few times, threatening to fold before her knees lock with some promise of support. Her hand gripping the side betrays the truth though, trembling with effort.

“Alright, take me to them.”

---

They aren’t happy.

There’s some general gratitude that an ending was guaranteed through her actions, but thanks for it are brisk and short lived. There are bigger problems now.

Lost footage was bad enough, but a protest live on air? Sure, there were tons of supportive fans out there with a continued commitment to the brand, but the vocal few were making themselves heard. Sponsors were pulling their funding. Team DanganRonpa needed to make a statement. They refused to take fault, they had the consent waivers, despite the impassioned display on screen. They needed a scapegoat to take the fall, and who better than the face of the disaster? It was for the good of their franchise, and their only chance to hang onto enough profit to keep the company running.

They are firing her.

The show must go on, but they would make a good faith decision to change their methods for the next season. With a brand new production team.They were advancing their technologies still and R&D was indispensable right now, so the focus went towards the writing talent. It was her failure, anyways, they posited. The simulation hadn’t flickered once, even when the jig was up.

Tsumugi is silent and numb as she is told this. Turmoil brews as a debate begins around her about when to release the announcement.

How dare they do this to me? I worked so hard for them! Without me this season would have never got off the ground! Who else had the brilliant idea to move into a space epic? To introduce new worlds for the future of the story? Who risked their life to bring down every last obstacle? Who gave up their classmates? Was chased down for this mad show and they care more about sponsors? How dare they place the blame on a highschooler, when I-

Wait, no, she’s not…

She runs her fingers over her temples gingerly, swaying slightly on her feet. The discussion in front of her ebbs, attention back on her, and some expressions exchanged before they agree to resume once she’s more aware. Perhaps they were too prompt in calling her here, but they had assumed she wouldn’t need long to adjust, since she knew the truth.

They didn’t realize knowing the truth was the crux of her dilemma.

---

Deleting memories when a consciousness was plugged directly into a simulation was very simple. The centers of the brain known to store them were easily targeted without physical intervention, leaving common sense and learned skills. Untethered knowledge, learned without recalling how. The amnesia effect here was valuable. Recalling this knowledge caused a disconnect, and when memories were implanted the brain would do something extraordinary. It would map a route from the presented memory to the knowledge, all on it’s own. Connecting the neural dots and repairing the damage as though it were never there, without guidance or supervision. The human mind was a brilliantly sophisticated device.

Every cast member had been selected with some semblance of knowledge or aptitude for their assigned talent, even if it was utterly average. The knowledge was filled out for each, with painstaking researchers drafting long memories of ancient tomes, infidelity cases, star charts, blueprints, masked faces, island maps and coastal vistas. They filled in as much as possible, but even if they missed something, the mind was resilient, and would work out the holes on its own.

It wasn’t the same for her however.

There was a perk to being the ringleader for the whole affair. The person in charge had to know some of the infrastructure that was keeping them there, some of the motivations. Lest the show fall apart, or even worse be boring. So the game master went into the simulation without memory deletion.

That wasn’t to say that there weren’t memories implanted. That would be too simple. They had to provide some true evidence of their talent to back up the enhancement of their skills and knowledge. Without a sturdy foundation built on confidence any additions would crumble and refuse to attach. Having worked in the costume department for a few seasons before her promotion, her suggestion of cosplayer had been approved almost instantly. Soon the research team was looking up Cosplay Masquerade winners from years past and the details of every prized piece of workmanship, photography and character acting they could find, and drafting it into a light for her as well. Tsumugi had been excited, and had even helped pick her absolute favourites to be remembered as costumes she made.

Ideally, this booster pack of memories for her talent would supplement her own enough to use to her fullest if the time came in game. Her script outline didn’t even call for her reveal, but having been behind the scenes a few seasons, she knew a lot more was up to chance than Team Danganronpa liked to let the media know. She wanted a strong backup at her disposal, should the need arise.

However, when the game began, something hadn’t been quite right. Backstory memories were implanted as planned, but the talents were yet to be placed. Already in the simulation, she couldn’t ask The Board if this was deliberate. It could be a marketing scheme to boost audition rates for the next round. But already her concern grew.

The human mind is a fascinating thing.

The others spoke of being grabbed and taken here. The dots were already connecting, firing on all cylinders, looking for solutions to lost memories that didn’t need answering. It wasn’t as though they erased everything of course, it was impossible to work with a blank slate, so the bits remaining were playing havoc with their reactions. She alone had none missing, and merely nodded along. With the arrival of the talent light, she had an inward sigh of relief. Soon it wouldn’t matter, this would overwrite any unintended connections left by this stunt.

They received the memories.

Tsumugi had never expected them to feel so real. Every costume she had lovingly picked out, from footage and articles, she could feel in her hands, as though she touched the fabric and threaded the seams. Every pose she had seen a cosplayer photographed in, she was viewing outwardly, seeing the cameramen she never even imagined existing prior, while holding her position with careful grace. Every character, be they dramatic, loud, shy, soft or brash, came to her in vivid detail. Their tales, their backstories, their struggles, their gestures and voices.

And it clashed against her memories of Danganronpa.

All these characters, all these series, they were not the ones she grew up on. They were new and relevant, often references classics, selected for memorability, for the audience. And yet now they were intimately hers. They crowded for attention, buzzing and vying for a place as her favourite.

Her true favourites, the reason for her years of work and devotion, were shoved to the very back, not forgotten, but duller. Flatter. The Ultimate Cosplayer was vibrant! Though plain outwardly her skills were undeniable! She wasn’t some drop-out made-seamstress made-scenario writer. Why would she ever want to be?

Therefore, it couldn’t be that surprising how lost in thought she was at her introductions, she spent far too long trying to remember the lines she had written to poke a reference to the show. There were a lot more than 52 killing games to think back on now. She regretted not stocking the A/V Room with more of these shows...

----

With an escort, she goes to her office to clear it out. Memorabilia lines the desk and walls, from seasons past. She looks them over passively as she is handed a box, and begins to take each thing down one by one. Every character, name, and mascot was familiar. Security waits at the door, and she wonders why. What could she possibly do here to harm them anymore than she supposedly already had? She had not been allowed online yet to confirm anything told to her, but she had resolved that when they spoke to her again she’d make it a condition before her termination. They couldn’t plainly believe she’d take their word on it when they put her… no that wasn’t right…

They didn’t put her anywhere, she put herself somewhere.

She shakes her head slowly a moment, the numbness in her hands having returned. Before she can react the snowglobe in her grasp slips out of her clumsy unfeeling fingers and shatters on the floor. Water and glitter splash the floor as tiny Monokumas skitter outwards past her feet across the room, freed from their little round prison. Security whirls around to face her at the sharp sound she doesn’t hear. She stands there staring at the base of the glass bauble, dumbfounded.

She vaguely recollects that that had been special. A collector’s item, given to her by someone perhaps? Limited edition? But she felt nothing staring down at the wet shards remaining, her arm hanging limp at her side. Whatever it was before, it was trash now.

Tsumugi is ushered out with her box half packed, with no mention of if she could come back for the rest. Part of her wants to scream to get the rest and cling to it all! It took so long to amass! Without it, what is there to prove her efforts? A larger part of her was happy for it to be out of sight.

She unceremoniously leaves the box in the corner of her recovery room. Not one of her own things is taken out to put anywhere. She likes the room bare and plain. Like her. Just like the girl she thinks she is.

---

Unlike before the game, when the research team and writers had meetings, strategy plans and long discussions, the classroom where Tsumugi stood with the Game Master interface was lonely and cold. There were no intricacies to any of the selections, they were mere branching paths. Sure, she recalled some of the writing details for each from before the season launch, especially the ones she had chosen as her outlined route, but how simply the screen stated them to her was troubling.

The talent had been supposed to be this simple too, but it had depth she hadn’t expected. The selection hovered over the Ultimate Hunt and the mass funeral choices, the ones her writing team had OK’d. She wondered what depth she’d feel seeing fake people mourn her. Would they seem fake?

She pressed the button and waited for the light to pop out of the locker, adjusting her glasses idly and looking out the dark wire barred windows. She thought about her ‘classmates’, who had nothing in their heads remaining to help them deny these. It really was a perfect system. For them.

There was a thud in the locker. Tsumugi returned to her task, like so many all nights she’d pulled before, both real and fictional. She walked over to retrieve it, carefully tucking it into the interior pocket on her coat. Once it was placed that was their plot, no rewrites, no erasing anything. Living the story was a lot more nerve wracking than writing it.

---

Tsumugi knows her way around the building without help, but that doesn’t stop security from falling into step and walking with her whenever she leaves her room. She supposes it’s not to help her, anyways, so it’s not an issue. There’s no regimented schedule for her during recovery, though doctors have visited her room a few times and there was one impromptu check-up with an actual CT scan.

She tells them all she feels fine. Everything is fine. She’s readjusting just fine, thank you for asking. No, no abnormalities. No numbness. No confusion. She does admit to being very tired. That one is a safe answer, it usually makes them leave faster so she can rest. They aren’t very good doctors, she thinks. She wonders if they are just as poorly attentive to the other patients’ issues and lies.

Without a schedule, Tsumugi avoids the cafeteria at what she guesses would be the busier times, but even doing so she has caught glimpses of her cast.

A girl sitting with an untouched meal laid out before her. Her hands clasped in front of her in her lap, eyes hidden behind loose grey hair.

A tall silent boy gazing out one of the few windows into the courtyard. He traces his no longer ringed fingers along the surface.

A coughing bout in the hallway followed by the rush of feet and a familiar loud voice shouting them off.

Echoes of their more vibrant selves, haunting the halls.

She walks into the cafeteria and stops. There are voices but she’s already through the door before she realizes it, eyes darting to the table to the right of the door. Sitting there in what sounded like a disagreement were Shuichi and Maki, with Himiko sitting idly beside the latter cheek resting on the heel of her hand while gazing at the door. The other two don’t notice her but the small redhead locks eyes with her instantly. Her posture stiffens as her eyes widen. The two girls stare at each other for a moment, the conversation a buzz in the background as the air thickens. Shuichi, who’s back is to the door must have noticed because he stops mid-sentence and glances over his shoulder. He freezes.

It’s Maki who stands, nudging Himiko behind her, taking on that intimidating stance. She’s glaring daggers across the room at her, and Tsumugi backs up involuntarily, right into the security guard who was following her into the room. Clumsily, she stumbles forwards to step out of his way and adjusts her glasses, the other three’s eyes still locked on her. Not wanting to leave, but unsure of what to do with herself, Tsumugi steps forwards to the adjacent table and quietly takes a seat.

The eyes on her and the silence are wrong. She’s not someone who gets stared at, at least not when she’s not trying to… this isn’t what she should… what should she…

A placid smile spreads on her face and she nods her head to them. “Good morning, Harukawa-san, Yumeno-san, Saihara-kun.” Her eyes squint almost closed in the forced smile, her cheeks pushing upwards under her glasses that help mask the dark bags. Practiced. Placating. A face both of her make. Painful.

“What do you want?”

Himiko isn’t who anyone expects to talk clearly, Shuichi turning to look at her. Maki squares her shoulders, trying to seem bigger. But the smallest of them narrows her eyes and waits.

“Nothing in particular, really,” Tsumugi drawls, folding her hands in her lap. Out of sight as they clench and fidget.

“Oh sure, your goons won’t give us a moment alone, but you don’t want anything. Like we’d believe that,” Maki says before Himiko can continue, venom in every word. Himiko’s mouth hangs open in the interruption, closing again with a pout.

“My goons,” Tsumugi repeats, noting the pointed look at the security detail that followed her in. “Fortunately, they should have provided you all with your contracts by now, and you can see your rights there. Please do use them to your benefit.”

“Oh right. The contracts we don’t even remember signing,” Himiko mutters.

“That is outlined in them as well.”

“This lack of contact with the outside was not, though,” Shuichi cuts in. The sureness there is from someone who clearly read the contract over more than once. Someone looking for loopholes. The memories he received must still be working overtime. She wonders if he’s as glad to have them as he was when he was when the process was explained? Probably not.

“That’s not my area, I’m afraid the simulation and preparations were my purview, Saihara-kun. Feel free to exert your rights in your contract, though. The company has to uphold it.” The strained smile slides into a more natural one as she continues to speak. It’s easier when it’s not about her.

Shuichi raises a brow. Perhaps he had expected resistance? “So they’re breaking their agreement then, holding us here?” he continues, as if to clarify.

“If that’s what the contract promises, then I suppose that’s the case,” Tsumugi answers. They should feel fortunate they got the opportunity to sign those at all, she thinks. Her hands clench tighter. They are fortunate they don’t remember.

“Like we trust you to keep promises,” Maki spat.

“You don’t have to,” she tuts, “Just use the contract, it’s your tool.”

Maki moves so quickly that thankfully Tsumugi doesn’t have the time to flinch. Himiko grabs her by the crook of the elbow before she’s rounded the table towards her.

“Stop it, let’s just talk somewhere else.”

Himiko stands, and moments later Shuichi follows suit. Maki’s expression doesn’t show any agreement, but she leaves with them nonetheless, glaring back over her shoulder on the way out. The security officers never stray from their posts. As soon as she’s sure they’re gone, Tsumugi lets out a held breath. A few moments pass, and she finally goes to get her meal.

She hopes that they really heard her. Their contracts are so much more flexible than her own. They hadn’t bequeath their identities, their citizenships, they weren’t intellectual property of the company no matter how some of the creative team liked to spin it.Their participation was a limited matter, and she was sure her classmates could argue their way through with that fine print at their disposal. She knew that much. She’d seen them face harder things than legal jargon together of course!

...Her classmates? No. Her cast. Her co-stars. A grimace grows on her face as she returns to sit. They never once had a class together, and the game could hardly be called one… not now. Not with her. Together they could bond in their ignorance. Her contract wasn’t flexible. Her consent was different than theirs. She wasn’t new, or at least not all new.

And she couldn’t leave until they decided the best way for them to kick her out. She takes a bite of her food thoughtfully.

If they can kick me out.

#ndrv3 spoilers #ndrv3 #tsumugi shirogane #shirogane tsumugi #team danganronpa #fic #my writing #danganronpa v3 #vr au #postgame #shuichi saihara #maki harukawa #himiko yumeno #my mugi #dissociation #memory #Some of you may remember the preview I posted for this one

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anistarrose · 4 years ago

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Summary: Winters running the Mystery Shack are difficult, but two unexpected guests improve Stan’s day.

Characters: Stan Pines, Mabel Pines, Dipper Pines, Ford Pines

Relationships: Mabel Pines & Stan Pines, Dipper Pines & Stan Pines, Dipper Pines & Mabel Pines & Stan Pines

Happy Holidays, @halogalopaghost! I'm your Secret Santa, here to mash together a couple different prompts through the power of time travel (and Mabel)!

***

It doesn’t take Stan many years to learn that winter’s no good for the rural Oregon tourist business.

Granted, he can hardly blame the tourists — he has to drive on Gravity Falls roads himself, much to his disgust. Between the paved, plowed streets that always turn slick with ice where you least expect them, and the winding gravel roads that you might as well ignore when road and wilderness alike are under identical four-inch blankets of snow, he knows no gallery of fake haunted paintings or taxidermied coyote’s ass is worth the trip in these conditions.

He’s on his third winter in town, now — not counting the first, worst one he arrived at the tail end of — and if there’s a right way to run a business this time of year, he hasn’t found it yet. He always scrapes together just enough to pay his bills, thanks the occasional local who wanders over to purchase a seasonally appropriate if overpriced snow globe — but he’s lucky if he breaks even in December, and knows January through March are a lost cause before they begin. He’ll make it back within the next year, sometimes even before summer ends, but it stings to know he’s about to fail at his one goal for the next three to four months straight, and there’s nothing he can do to change it.

It might sting less if he had another way to spend these winters — if he had a good reason to formally close the Shack for a few months, like an experienced business owner making a grounded and responsible decision. But he can’t even search for Ford’s journals in this weather — he’s learned from his mistakes, his countless brushes with frostbite, throughout those cold, desperate months in the wake of the portal shutting down.

He’s useless right now, and worse, this season’s shaping up to be the bleakest yet. His usually-scammable neighbors have already lined their shelves with winter knicknacks from Mystery Shack visits past, and the bulk of Stan’s meager sales have come from shivering out-of-towners who’ve never tried to take a Pacific Northwest road trip in December before, and probably won’t be keen to try again.

What seasonal merchandise hasn’t he sold yet? Bumper stickers for miscellaneous holidays, maybe — but neither timely bumper stickers nor the usual selection of tchotchkes will convince people to visit the Shack in the first place, under these road conditions. He can’t even walk around selling merch door to door, for the same reason he can’t look for the other journals — he’d freeze to death, presuming he could make it through the snowdrifts to somewhere worth visiting in the first place. Even with snow chains on the Stanmobile’s tires and a bucket of salt in her trunk, grocery runs alone are perilous enough.

Damn it, Ford, he thinks, why couldn’t you have gone missing in Florida?

He could always do what he does best and lie, maybe — send out word that there’s free hot chocolate or something with every purchase at the Mystery Shack, and hope that people hand over their hard-earned cash before they pick up on the false advertising. He might draw in some local customers that way, and even if he loses their trust for the next few months, they always seem to forget about his cons eventually — as if he never scammed them, and they’ve never so much as heard the words caveat emptor.

He’s just about to dial the local paper’s number on the phone, hoping to flatter Toby into letting him run another ad for free, when he hears a telltale knock at the gift shop door. The bell atop that door doesn’t ring, which means that despite the hostile winds and snow they braved to get here, his visitors are still out loitering on the porch — or so Stan thinks for a moment, before it dawns on him that he doesn’t even remember unlocking the door this morning. He’d just been that pessimistic about even seeing a customer.

“Hello?” someone calls — a fairly young voice, probably approaching the tail end of puberty. “Are you there, uh…Mr. Mystery?”

“On my way!” Stan shouts, throwing on his fez and bolting for the door. His neighbors in Gravity Falls might forget and forgive a lot, but he doesn’t want to risk the wrath of a parent whose teenage kid froze to death on the local grifter’s doorstep, so he unlocks and flings open the door as fast as he can. “Welcome, travelers! Prepare to be baffled and bemused by our mind-boggling boreal mysteries, here at this last refuge at the edge of the Arctic we like to call the Cryptid Cabin!”

His visitor — no, his two visitors — both blink slowly, proving to at least be baffled, if nothing else. Both are bundled up in what Stan assumes to be several sheep worth of wool garments, lovingly knitted into sweaters, hats, and scarves.

“But you call this place the Mystery Shack,” the girl speaks up, and the boy nods.

“Yeah, and we’re nowhere near the Arctic! This is Oregon, not Alaska!”

Stan groans — the only customers he might see all week, and of course they’re teenagers. “Look, punks, business is slow these days! I’ve had a lot of time to think about a seasonal rebranding, and not a lot of chances to workshop it, alright?”

The teens’ expressions instantly soften, and the girl exclaims: “Well, you can workshop it with us!” She grabs the other kid — her brother? — by the hand, and pulls him into the gift shop.

Maybe Stan’s judged them too quickly — he’s still not thrilled to have strangers pitying him, of course, but he’ll take it over strangers mocking him any day of the week.

“Dang, you’re right,” the boy comments once inside, and face-to-face with shelves of untouched merchandise. “It really is empty in here in the winter.”

With little light coming in from the windows, and a flickering bulb overhead that will soon need replacing, the often-bustling room is now dim and eerie — aside from the junk food wrappers on the floor, which Stan hastily kicks under his desk.

“Look at all the lonely snowglobes in need of homes!” the girl pipes up, swiping a glass-encased antelabbit off the shelf and giving it a hearty shake. “Good thing I’m here to adopt this lucky little guy — how much is he?”

Stan takes a second to run the numbers — the maximum amount of money a teen would have on hand, versus what Stan needs to charge to make a profit — and replies: “Twenty-nine ninety-nine and nothing more. We don’t do sales tax here, ‘less you’re a cop.”

“Bet there’s a lot of other taxes you don’t do, either,” the boy snorts, rummaging through a shelf of hats until he unearths one with the old Murder Hut logo on it. “Aha! Now here’s a collector’s item!”

“Oh, did you come here before the rebrand and forget to grab a souvenir?” Stan asks. He doesn’t remember these two, but it’s been a couple years since he painted over the last Murder Hut sign — and they do seem pretty familiar with the building, not to mention Stan’s whole… business model.

“Oh, uh, that’s a funny story, actually! Real funny!” the boy stammers with a whole lot more trepidation than the topic should’ve warranted, and looks to his sister for help.

Sure enough, she steps in. “We lived here for a while — in Gravity Falls, I mean! Not here in the Shack, obviously — wouldn’t that be ridiculous, if we lived in your house for months without you knowing? Could you imagine —”

“That is to say, we still visit sometimes!” the boy supplies. His eyes are a whole lot more fixated on the snowglobes than with anything in Stan’s general direction. “You probably don’t remember us — we weren’t in town for very long, or anything…”

Stan sighs. They’re lying, obviously — but hey, there’s no cops in the Mystery Shack, and he doesn’t have a dog in whatever fight compelled the duo to spew this bullshit. He’ll keep an eye on the cash register, of course, but these kids are tolerable company when they’re not being suspicious as hell — so if they want to invent a bad cover story for a low-stakes tourist trap visit, more power to them.

“Well, the hat’s vintage, so that’ll be double price. Twenty bucks,” he announces matter-of-factly, and the boy groans — but there’s a smile behind it, like he’d expected this and now he’s just playing along. If there’s one thing Stan’s willing to believe, it’s that these kids have been to the Mystery Shack before.

“You’re a highway robber, old man, and I’m the coward who’s gonna let you get away with it,” the boy declares, and Stan can’t help but laugh. The kid reaches under several layers of sweaters to pull out a wallet, with a blue pine tree embroidered on, and miscellaneous charms of fantasy characters hanging off a chain on the side. Stan doesn’t recognize any of them, but they still tug at his heartstrings, because he can tell they’re the exact kind of nerdy references Ford would love.

He does take note of the pine tree design, though — it’s generic enough that slapping it on some shirts and hats wouldn’t quite be plagiarism, and in Stan’s eyes, those are always the best souvenir designs.

The kids put their money forward, hovering awkwardly as Stan rings up their items — the girl busies herself attacking a loose string on her brother’s scarf, nimble fingers tying it back in its approximate place, while the boy twiddles his thumbs and stares at the snowy, gray scene out the window. At the moment, only light flurries fill the air, but tomorrow night promises a blizzard… and Stan, grump with a soft side that he is, can’t help but hope that if these kids are really on vacation, then they aren’t planning to drive anywhere tonight.

With it being winter, and him running the business that he does, he doesn’t have much charity to give — but, if he’s going to play along with his customers’ little lie, then he should probably at least bring up the topic.

“You’re not hittin’ the road any time soon, are you?” He makes eye contact only with the green illustrated presidents in his hands, so not to come across as overly invested. “Weather forecast says tonight’s gonna be a doozy.”

“Aww, you’re worried about us?” the girl coos, because apparently both parties here are damn good at picking up on each other’s lies. “That’s so sweet — but you don’t have to be! Our great uncle’s waiting for us in town, and he’ll… well, let’s just say he’s planning to bring us back home before the blizzard hits.”

“He’s, uh — he lived here back in the seventies, so he knows what he’s doing,” the boy adds. “On the roads, that is. Mostly.”

“Well, you two take care,” Stan tells them, hastily adding on: “So you can come back when the weather isn’t terrible and buy more keychains, that is.”

“Oh, we will.” The boy grins, sharing a conspiratorial glance with his sister. “Maybe don’t count on it being next year — or the year after that, even — but you can count on it.”

“Well, uh…” Stan stops himself, resisting the impulse to divulge things he really shouldn’t. “You just shouldn’t count on me running this place forever. Be sure to get your novelty cryptid pins while they’re hot, y’know.”

He’s never really wondered what he’ll do with the Shack when he gets Ford back — and yes, he has to believe that statement deserves a when, not an if — but he figures the Shack’s fate will depend more on Ford’s own whims. If reality lands somewhere between the nightmares of Ford wanting him gone and the fantasies of finally sailing around the world, if Ford doesn’t hate him but still wants to spend more time with Important Science Experiments than with his brother, then Stan could see himself returning to a mediocre life in his moderately successful tourist trap… but with the search for the journals still coming up empty, Stan can only try not to think about the future, and accept that he’ll just cross — or burn — that bridge when he comes to it.

“Okay, Mr. Mystery,” the girl suddenly declares with a tone that frankly reminds Stan of his mother, “you look like you could use a pick-me-up!”

“What?” It’s starting to freak Stan out how well she can read him, and there’s no telling whether it’s just a sharp intuition, or something significantly more Gravity Falls-y. “If I look tired, kid, it’s because it’s December in Oregon, I haven’t seen the sun in a week, and I am tired. Only pick-me-up I need is for you to get out of my hair, and let me go back into hibernation like nature intended.”

“Okay, but counterpoint: you hear us out,” the boy insists. “We’ve got a little something up our sleeve to really light up your winter —” He winks at his sister. “Don’t we?”

“You bet we do!” She pulls a bag of marshmallows out of not her sleeve, but her backpack, and grins. “Prepare to be amazed and astounded by the natural wonders of this town, and also the miracle that is processed sugar and gelatin!”

“Are you imitating my sales pitches?” Stan asks, dumbfounded. “And do you carry those on you at all times?”

“In winter in Gravity Falls, I do!” the girl replies, already heading for the exit with her brother. “C’mon! If this doesn’t put a smile on your face, nothing will!”

“We all know you’ve got time to spare, Stan,” the boy adds, cracking open the door. “Get a move on!”

“Spare time doesn’t mean I’ve got spare limbs to lose to frostbite,” Stan grumbles, but follows them anyway. There’s something captivating about these little punks — not so much this mysterious phenomenon they’re trying to sell him on, as if they could really out-charlatan Mr. Mystery himself, but rather the way they’re not put off by his frigid facade. They see right through him, showering him in alternating kindness and acerbic wit.

Stan can’t help but wonder if their uncle’s kind of like him — tired, bitter, and pretending to be indifferent, but secretly soft on the inside, like a marshmallow that’s burnt on the surface but melted within. It would explain why they’re so good at calling him on his shit — but then again, Stan and this mystery guy can’t be too alike, because if Stan had a niece and nephew like these two, he’s sure he’d be living his life a whole lot differently.

He exits the Shack, and all his questions are immediately replaced with new ones when he sees the teens just hurling marshmallows towards the edge of the woods. The wind’s in their favor, so some of those sugary little fuckers fly far.

“Okay, so I’ve already got a couple concerns,” Stan tells them, shivering. “First off, what the hell?”

“It might take a couple minutes before one shows up,” the girl admits, as if it’s a totally reasonable stand-alone explanation for whatever the hell’s going on here. With about a third of the marshmallows now blending into the snow on Stan’s lawn, she and her brother stop with the throwing, though they still hold onto the bag. “Our grunkle theorized that they move slower in winter, to save energy — oh wait, never mind! Here comes one now!”

“Sorry, what? And where?” Stan squints out into the woods, terrified to lay his eyes upon a woodland monster these kids just lured to his doorstep — but all he sees, at first, are a few wisps of smoke dispersing in the wind above the trees. He’s not even convinced it’s smoke, really, because these aren’t the right conditions for a fire — but to his surprise, he glimpses an orange light within the woods, glowing steadily brighter until the trees and bushes around it are all casting faint shadows.

When it steps into the clearing, Stan realizes he has seen something like it before, albeit only from the overcautious distance he tries to keep from all anomalies. It’s an otherwise normal campfire perched on wooden, spiderlike legs, and it melts a path in the snow as it trots forwards, then lowers itself to the ground to absorb the first of a dozen marshmallows.

It lets out a satisfied little sound — a low, steady crackle that sounds almost like a purr — then scampers up to the next morsel of food to repeat the process.

“It’s called a Scampfire!” the girl explains, beaming. “There’s a bunch of them out in the woods, and they’ll always wander over if you leave out enough campfire food — especially sugary stuff! Isn’t that cute?”

“Our great uncle figured out this amazing trick when he used to live here, and he passed it down to us!” the boy adds, practically bouncing up and down in place. “If you leave them a trail of food, they’ll follow you around until you run out — which means they can clear your driveway, warm your hands, even save your car if you drive into a snowbank! Or help you make s’mores, of course.”

“Our grunkle says he even skipped paying his heating bill a couple winters,” the girl adds with a grin, “but I dunno if we can recommend that in good conscience.”

As the scampfire draws a closer, continuing to purr as it consumes more of the sugary trail, the boy slaps a handful of marshmallows into Stan’s palm. “Give it a try!”

Stan’s not thrilled about bringing a fire onto the wooden porch attached to his wooden house, even as cute as said fire is, so instead he tosses his ammunition at something much more disposable — the golf cart, since if this one croaks, he can always just steal another from the insufferable rich family up on the hill. His aim isn’t great — he blames his cold fingers — but exactly one marshmallow lands right in the cart’s driver seat.

The scampfire breaks course from its path towards the Shack, clearing a path through the snow before it crawls into the cart, absorbing the final morsel and curling up atop crossed legs. Nothing explodes, and in fact, a few of the icicles on the awning start to melt, dripping water into the patch of bare muddy ground surrounding the cart.

“Huh,” Stan mutters. Dozens of harebrained schemes flash before his eyes — if he could find a slingshot, or even better, some kind of cannon to mount on the cart’s front hood, then he’s sure that with practice, he could entice some scampfires to clear a path through any snowdrift…

But no matter his exact solution, it’s a way to get into town consistently. He can finally go door-to-door selling knickknacks, instead of sitting in the gift shop every day and hoping some poor soul would get bored enough to brave the roads and visit. He can actually work out a way to line his pockets even in the winter, instead of constantly waking up from nightmares about getting foreclosed on —

“See? They get food, and we don’t freeze — classic mutualistic symbiotic relationship!” the boy declares, and his sister gently socks him in the arm.

“Nerd!”

“Hey, you knew that too! We’re in the same biology class!”

It’s familiar, but the kind of familiarity that Stan doesn’t treasure anymore. It’s more like the kind that he hides in the basement or in boarded-up rooms whenever he can, and grins and bears with a heavy heart when he can’t, like every time he looks in the mirror or hears someone call him Stanford. He comes so close to asking these teens if they’re twins, because he figures the answer can’t be worse than wondering — but the question dies in his throat, and he tells himself it’s for the best.

“Is your uncle who invented this trick the same one who’s waiting in town for you?” he asks instead.

“Yep!” replies the girl. “He probably won’t get worried about us for like, ten or fifteen more minutes, though — I’m sure he’s got his nose buried deep in a book right now.”

“Do me a favor and let him know he’s a lifesaver,” Stan says. “Also tell him I’m glad he moved out, because he sounds a little too smart to fall for the fake monster wares that I peddle.”

The kids exchange a look that Stan can’t even hope to comprehend, though he’s damn sure it’s worth a thousand words to the two of them. Twins or not, he’s getting an “inseparable” kind of vibe from these two, that’s for sure.

“I’m not sure he’d like the Shack at first,” the brother muses, “but I’ve got a hunch it would grow on him.”

“He does like cryptids — sometimes even fake ones!” the sister chimes in. “Oh, shoot — we still need to grab a souvenir for him! I knew we were forgetting something!”

“Huh.” Stan throws a few more marshmallows in the direction of the woods, and the scampfire stumbles off the cart before trotting along on its merry way back to the forest. “I can get you something, no problem — I don’t call this place a gift shop for nothing, y’know. But for the love of Paul Bunyan, let’s talk about it inside.”

He’s not great at mental math, but he doesn’t have to be to know he owes a lot to these teens and the mysterious uncle he might never meet. Hell, even forgetting the business perspective — he can actually look for the journals in winter without risking frostbite, if he gets one of his fiery neighbors to tag along. Even if he finds nothing, even if he only winds up with more failures to contend with, he’d rather rule out locations than be useless to Ford for months at a time.

None of this weird family that he might never see again, these three benevolent strangers that he can only put two faces to, could possibly know how much they’ve just changed for him — and he can’t tell them, as much as his oversized heart promises he can trust these snarky kids who remind him so much of himself. But he does owe them, so when he reenters the gift shop, he goes straight for a seldom-opened and never-advertised box of knickknacks that he has no intention of charging them for. It’s got the dimensions of only about two side-by-side shoeboxes, so he lifts it onto the counter with hardly a grunt, and opens it up.

“Got lots of goodies in here — mostly stuff that I made or, ahem, acquired in bulk, so they never quite sold out by the time everyone and their mother in town had already bought their own. Take a gander.”

He knows that gander will reveal some Murder Hut-branded shirts with the words written on in marker, plastic six-sided dice with a different cryptids pictured on each side, cheap whistles purported to attract Bigfoot, cheap flashlights once advertised for attracting Mothman, exactly three cool rocks that Stan found in the woods… and the pièce de résistance, a little wooden Mystery Shack-shaped music box, which chirps out a pleasant tune when Stan flips up the roof. That last one’s a rare knickknack that Stan really put effort into personally crafting, back at the height of last winter’s monotony, through cannibalizing parts of premade music boxes and sticking them into brand-new shapes — but he couldn’t sell them for enough to be worth the cost of making more, and could never sell this last one at all.

“Oh, wow!” the girl gasps, clearly delighted. “How can I even choose between —”

“No, take it all. It’s on the house — but don’t you dare tell anyone about this, you hear me? I’ll know if you blab, ‘cause people will start asking me if they can get free crap, too, and I don’t wanna hear a word of that nonsense.”

“Free stuff at the Mystery Shack?” The boy narrows his eyes. “Are you feeling okay, old man?”

“Kid, stuff only goes in the Free Bullshit Box when I can’t sell it anyway.” Stan crosses his arms with a huff, even though he’s technically telling the truth. “The only catch is take it before I change my mind.”

A sudden spark of recognition in the brother’s eyes morphs into a grin on his face, and he nods. “Oh, we will. Don’t worry.”

“I think our grunkle will love this! Especially the dice,” the sister adds. “Hey, maybe we could give all this to him piece by piece for Hanukkah! There’s enough here for a new surprise every night!”

“Whoa, there is! Man, the look on his face the first time we bring out a Bigfoot whistle is gonna be great —” The boys eyes dart to the watch on his wrist, and he coughs into his hand. “But we should probably get a move on, huh? Don’t want to get caught in, y’know, the blizzard tonight.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” Stan returns the lid and hands the box over. “You, uh, need a ride back to town? ‘Cause being a man of mystery and all, I know this neat trick to clear a whole road with just a bag full of marshmallows —”

The kids both start cackling, so hard that the box almost escapes the girl’s hands, and Stan laughs with them — not because he thought his joke was that funny, but because the kids’ laughter is absolutely priceless. The isolation’s definitely getting to his head and his heart, but he’ll take whatever reprieve he can get.

“I think we’ll manage on our own,” the boy finally wheezes out, “but thanks for the offer, Mr. Mystery. Thanks for everything, really.”

“See you later!” his sister adds as they leave. “Don’t let the feral gnomes bite!”

“You take care, too,” Stan replies, not nearly as loud — but he figures that the kids can read his lips. They can read so much about him, and know so much about the town, that he’s honestly a hair’s breadth away from assuming they’re two more anomalies from the woods themselves, just in more recognizable shapes than most…

Though if Stan’s honestly considering that theory, then more of Ford must’ve rubbed off on him than he likes to think about — which is to say, it’s a good a reason as any to stop thinking about it. What or whoever they were, the duo were actually pretty tolerable for teenagers, and Stan’s pretty sure they didn’t put a curse or whatever magic mumbo jumbo on him — because if they could manage that, they could definitely tell some less conspicuous lies, right?

He kinda likes the idea of one goddamn supernatural force in this town that’s actually benevolent, actually watching his back when his mood’s at its bleakest, and coming to his rescue with — no, he’s dropping that train of thought. No baseless hoping, just letting himself down easy before he gets up.

It does occur to him, several minutes after the gift shop door swings closed, that Hanukkah has already come and gone this year. Which probably just means the kids are prepared to hide that box for another twelve months… but maybe, when Stan finds the other journals, he’ll double-check for entries on helpful teenage cryptids who can’t lie. Just to be sure.

***

Mabel, Dipper, and Ford barrel into the living room so suddenly that Stan almost drops his mug of hot chocolate. They’re all covered in a ridiculous amount of snow, considering how briefly they were just outside, and Ford looks awfully delighted for someone whose glasses are someone whose glasses have just turned opaque with fog.

“Grunkle Stan!” Mabel shouts. The cardboard box in her arms has seen better days, but she’s cradling it like an infant. “You’ll never guess when we just were!”

Dipper points a gloved finger in the air. “You mean, when we just — oh wait, did you already —”

“Yeah, I beat you to it this time!” Mabel pumps her fist. “Anyways, Grunkle Stan — you’ll never guess who we just visited!”

#gravity falls #stanley pines #mabel pines #dipper pines #stanford pines #gravity falls secret santa 2020 #rosalia writes fic

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ververa · 4 years ago

Note

heeello, I have a request!! Can you write a Leonore Osgood x Reader where the reader is her seamstress? ✨💗Something where Leonore starts to order more dresses as an excuse to see her more often and flirts with her at every good opportunity. I think Leonore is a very confident woman, so she may have taken the initiative to kiss the reader as soon as she thought she had a chance, not being able to withstand a rejection

thank you and sorry if I made mistakes, I'm not very good at writing in english :/

ps. I love your blog💖

“Beyond The Wildest Dreams”

A/N: Thank you so much for this request!!! I had a lot of fun writing it 🤗😅 It's longer than I intended and it's only a few of all the ideas I had for this fic 🙈 So, I actually may write a 2nd part or since I have a few requests for Lenore I may combine them

Anyways I kinda feel like it's not exactly what you wanted, but I hope you will enjoy it!! 😇

Also many thanks to @misssmephisto who always supports me and who helped me a lot with this fic!!! 💜💖💜💖💜

Lenore Osgood x fem!reader

Word count: ~5k

The moment you saw Lenore Osgoode for the first time the whole world simply stopped existing. People around you, models, photographers, former and possibly new clients, even your nervousness - caused by the very first fashion show of yours, was long forgotten, as you watched the gorgeous blonde taking a seat at the audience, right in the first row. She didn't quite fit with the rest. She was fabulous. No other in the room stood a chance with her. Self confidence radiated from every fibre of her body, not to mention that one look was enough to tell she was an enthusiast of refined style. She was with no doubt upper class. Her outfit itself indicated that she was one of those filthy rich people. Normally you tried to stay away from them, not feeling well in their company, yet this one time you were ready to make an exception. Who could ever blame you? Lenore truly distinguished herself and looked absolutely stunning dressed in a long, red dress and a mink coat.

She was beautiful and tall - you could put on her whatever you would want to and it would drape perfectly, only adding to her captivating charm. But clothes were more than that - for you at least. It wasn’t just about materials draping nicely or the person looking good. You considered clothes to be a person’s second skin. A layer supposed to not only cover all the imperfections, but also hide their dark secrets and sins, at the same time giving out a hint of their attitude. And that particular approach of yours combined with your skills made you an exceptional designer and a wonderful seamstress. On the other hand though, it made you misunderstood by many people - especially your fellows - which seemed to be the dark, less nice side of your profession, but you didn’t care about it at all. You were too busy, positively bedeviled with work, to spare your precious time to think about it.

As your eyes set on Lenore you immediately knew that you wanted nothing more, but to dress her up in all the finest materials you could get. Tailor her clothes to fit whatever was her guilt, to match the darkest parts of her soul. You looked her up and down, for what felt like a hundredth time that evening, and still you couldn’t get enough. You were ready and highly likely to come up with yet another project just like that. You knew for sure it would be something different. It had to be special, exclusive, hand-selected, designed just for her and as spectacular as the woman appeared to be.

The images of Lenore in taffeta and silk kept crossing your vivid imagination. You were just having some debate with yourself on what colour would suit her best, though much to your dismay you were brought back to reality by one of the assistants working there with you.

“Miss Y/L/N, we have a little problem backstage”

You turned towards the young man, resigning from watching the blonde and reluctantly giving your full attention to the man.

“I’m coming” you nodded and - after glancing at Lenore one more time - you followed him to find out what kind of problem he was talking about.

~~~~

Lenore sat and watched, but she didn’t even bother to pretend she was interested. She had a sense that being there was just a waste of time. And as a worldly woman that she beyond any doubt was - she hated wasting her time, especially in places like that. Shabby and tasteless. Full of inelegant, crude people who tended to get above themselves way too often, while in reality they had absolutely no idea what true sophistication and fashionability were. They came there to watch the show, but it had nothing to do with them being interested in fashion. It was just another way of exposing their self-importance. Lenore knew it better than anyone, but that was all right with her. She used to be like them too, though she no longer needed to prove anything to anyone. That's why for her being there was more like a torture.

If it hadn’t been for her impulsive and capricious decision to fire her tailor she wouldn’t even think of attending such a ridiculous event like a fashion show in a small, prospectless town. What could she possibly see there? Nothing. Those were simple people, not accustomed with high standards and clearly not ready for any fashion revolutions. Lenore hadn’t expected anything spectacular. There was no use in getting her hopes up, since she was there only because she needed a new seamstress. Enjoying the show was far from probable and she was well aware of it. Yet she went and stayed there. Fairly sick to death, but determined, hoping that if she put up with all the inconveniences, she would manage to find what she was looking for.

Cheap clothes and shoddy jewellery - was all she got to see for the first hour or so and that was enough to drive her crazy. Lenore wasn’t sure whether she wanted to laugh or cry. Those people's taste or rather lack of it - cried to heaven. Calling something like that a fashion show appeared to be some barbarous jape. And at that point Lenore was fed up and ready to leave. It was so naive of her to envisage witnessing something groundbreaking, but there was still one more line of clothes supposed to be walked out - and that was it. A real breakthrough. Something out of the ordinary. Something that Lenore wanted, but didn’t know it before.

She watched - suddenly interested in everything that was happening on the runway. Models walked down one after the other, then disappeared, but each one of them - presenting another outfit, left Lenore even more astonished than the previous one.

Lenore Osgood had always been a material girl, but she felt no remorse about it. Clothes were her own kind of cakes and ale and she felt no shame choosing the perfect fabrics and jewelry that would suit her fancy, after all she had enough money to afford whatever she desired.

At that point all she wanted was that one particular line of clothes. The show wasn’t over yet, but Lenore already knew she was going to be the one to buy all those outfits. She kept waiting though - well aware that the last outfit was supposed to be the most extraordinary one. However she didn’t get to see it, as instead of the last model some man appeared on the runway - informing there was going to be a short break, because they had some problem.

Lenore huffed. She had never been a patient person and so - obviously - she wasn’t going to wait like others.The heiress stood up, flicked her long coat and not paying any attention to people - who intently observed her every move, not even trying to be discreet- she headed out to the backstage. She couldn’t care less about the rules or the fact that unauthorized people weren’t allowed there. It did not apply to her - that was how Lenore perceived every prohibition she encountered. She had never been the one to care much for the commonly accepted norms. She simply did what she pleased, completely unbothered by the possible consequences. Even more so at that moment - she just needed to meet the designer face to face. After all it didn’t happen often that someone managed to captivate her like that.

How surprised she was when instead of a man - as she incorrectly assumed the artist to be a male - her eyes set on you - a young woman. That’s when her amazement doubled.

At first Lenore stopped, slightly confused. She didn't speak up immediately. You weren’t there alone and she couldn't interrupt you and deprive herself of the opportunity to watch you working.

Some young, very tall and skinny woman stood there next to you. Lenore figured it must have been the model, supposed to walk down the runway as the last one. Lenore examined the woman’s body and immediately noticed that the dress she was wearing did not quite fit her - that was the problem apparently.

Lenore stood a few meters away. Not too far, so that she could see what you were doing, but still not close enough for you to notice her presence.

The blonde observed how your hand reached for some pins and then how you put a few of them in your mouth.

"I'm sorry, Y/N" the model said, sobbing

"Please, stop apologizing. Everything is alright" you mumbled, not really able to speak, because of the pins you kept between your lips.

"I destroyed the dress..."

"You didn't destroy anything. Now calm down and let me fix this little malfunction" you said, crouching behind the girl.

You took a seam ripper in one hand and held the fabric of the dress with the other. Normally seam rippers were used to help with occasional mistakes, but you were prone to experimenting with different sewing tools. Necessity is the mother of invention - you often said. And just like that, in one swift move you ripped one of the seams - only to pin it back together with pins within seconds. Except after that little operation of yours the dress became a bit looser. Not too excessively, but just enough to fit the model.

“See? It’s fixed.” you said, proudly looking at the result of your work and zipping the dress “Now, stop crying. There’s no need to cry” you reassured.

“But I couldn’t put it on…”

“Because it was too small”

“Exactly… I-I… I need to lose weight” she said in a breaking voice.

“No” you shook your head “Clothes are supposed to fit you, not the other way. Now go”

The woman nodded and rushed out, passing by next to Lenore, who was standing there with a cigarette in her hand - shamelessly checking you out.

“I must say, that was very impressive” the heiress stated, thereby making you aware of her presence.

You quickly turned around and were instantly met by the blue eyes and probably one of the most entrancing smiles you had ever seen. There she was. One and only Lenore Osgood in the flesh. You couldn’t help the gasp - she looked even better up close.

“I… Umm… Can I help you, madam?” you asked, internally scolding yourself for taking so long to say anything.

“Actually, you can, darling”

“I’m listening” you said, trying to act as natural as possible, despite the fact the nickname she used made your heart skip a beat.

Lenore pulled at her cigarette, then smiled - obviously pleased with your answer.

“You are the one who designed those close” she stated, but with a hint of uncertainty.

“That’s right”

“Well then, allow me to felicitate you. It was a wonderful show - the last part at least” she stated, rolling her eyes as she remembered how sorely dull the beginning of the event was.

“Thank you” you beamed at her words.

“You are welcome, darling” her smile got even wider - making you wonder if she realized what effect that goddamn nickname had on you.

“Now, let’s say I have an offer for you. What would you say if I asked you to work for me?” she continued.

How could you say no to her? You would most likely be out of your mind if you had denied such a proposal. Her invitation was one of those you could not and definitely did not want to decline. How could you do it after she bought all the outfits from your new collection - paying even more than they were actually worth. Not to mention that working for her was what you dreamed about ever since you saw her.

That's how you found yourself standing at the door of Lenore's mansion the very next day. She wanted to know what other ideas you had and see different projects of yours, so you took your binder and sewing planner with you. As you nervously waited for someone to open and let you in, you held the items tight, pressing them to your chest - as if they were some precious treasure.

"Miss Y/L/N? Come in, Ms Osgood is waiting for you" an older woman informed, as she led you inside.

You followed, looking around - taking in every detail of the house interior and trying to memorize it. You always held to a particular belief of the house being the image of its owner's soul. Some people found it ridiculous, but in that case it was true. Lenore's house was as superior, noble and remarkable as the heiress herself.

"Y/N!" the blonde called and you turned round. You immediately stopped, when you caught the sight of her.

Lenore was slowly descending the stairs - looking as gracefully as ever. You smiled to yourself, when you realized she was wearing one of the outfits that you created. You had never felt such joy and pride seeing your previous clients wearing something that you designed. But to be fair, none of them radiated with such regality as Lenore. No one could ever match her dignity or a sense of majesty, and apparently that was what made your projects look even more exquisite.

"Is it alright if I call you by your name, dear?" Lenore asked, stopping for a moment to allow her little monkey jump from her shoulder to the shoulder of the woman who let you in.

"If I'm allowed to call you by yours" you smiled.

"Absolutely, darling" the blonde said enthusiastically, as she moved towards you. A smirk appeared on her face, indicating that she did not miss the way you blushed at the nickname. "Let's sit down, shall we?" she suggested, pointing to a spacious room, where a white sofa and armchairs stood.

You nodded, as you moved to sit in one of the armchairs.

"Would you like something to drink, Y/N?" Lenore asked.

"Just a glass of water, please"

"Darce! Bring Y/N a glass of water" she ordered, clicking her fingers.

You shifted in the armchair. The woman in front of you made you feel nervous for some reason, but you tried to act professional.

"You wanted to see my projects, so I brought my binder…" you said, a bit hesitant.

"Wonderful!” she exclaimed, grinning “May I?" she asked, as she reached out for the item.

"Of course" you passed her the binder and then observed, as she intently studied each page.

"Your water, Miss Y/L/N" the older woman said, handing you the glass.

"Thank you" you smiled, carefully taking the vessel from her.

"What a talent and creativity!" Lenore praised, glancing at you with a smirk on her face, not paying attention to the other woman.

You smiled, taking a sip of the water - hoping it would actually help with calming your nerves.

Lenore spent almost an hour on deciding which of your projects she would like to get. She obviously liked them all, but she needed her clothes to be different. She needed them to be extraordinary, fancy and expensive. And so you suggested creating something just for her.

You were a hardworking person - used to staying up late to finish sewing different outfits. You always went all out and thereby made your clients satisfied, but with Lenore you wanted more. Making her satisfied simply didn't seem enough. You wanted to impress her, blow her away. Little did you know that the heiress already was spellbound - not only by your projects, but by you yourself.

Lenore had never met anyone who delighted her so much. Such manners, such a style and sophistication. Not to mention you were so extremely accomplished for your age. All that impressed her in a way, but also fascinated her. She was truly enchanted by you. No wonder. You had a peculiar background, attitude and approach to the real world. You were a rare sample and Lenore happened to like thinking of herself as a connoisseur. She liked uncommon things. That's why she desperately wanted to have a taste of that extraordinary, magical power that radiated from you. A taste of that particular thing that made you so special. Though before she decided to do anything, she needed to make sure you would not disapprove of her. Because rejection was something Lenore didn't take well.

Lenore figured out that taking things slow was a good thing to do. She decided to warm you up a little and make sure that she actually had a chance. She didn't want her intentions to be too obvious. Lenore had always been a little skeptical of displaying any sort of affection. She'd rather play around. Yet she couldn't deny it felt sort of different with you.

Lenore loved teasing you more than anything. You always seemed so stressed and flustered whenever you would come to her house to deliver yet another outfit - and she found it adorable.

~~~~

At first you would come to her house once a week. Each time bringing with you a different dress and a few of new projects for Lenore to have a look and either go with them or tell you what she would like you to change. She rarely wanted to make any adjustments though. Lenore appreciated all of your ideas - only occasionally asking you to make a particular outfit in different colour or use another kind of fabric than you had intended to at first, but she never criticised you. As a matter of fact, she was always praising you. Maybe even too excessively. She complimented basically everything about you - from your creativity and ideas to the way you dressed. It appeared that she knew exactly what to say to make you blush - of which she was not only aware, but also took pride in succeeding in doing it. However, as much as you loved it, you could not quite help all the worries that clouded in your head - when you began realizing that Lenore became someone more than just your client and boss.

It had been going on for months. You grew so used to spending time with her and designing clothes for her that at some point your life turned to be all about Lenore. Everything either reminded you of her or inspired you to make another outfit that would fit her and only her taste. Lenore and even her monkey became such a huge part of your life, that you couldn't picture yourself not doing all of the things you were doing and you definitely could not stop thinking about Lenore. To say that it scared you would be an understatement. The realization of your true feelings made you freak out completely. So much so that you did not know what to do. So much so you couldn't act the way you used to before. That's why you decided to take a break - hoping it would help you distance yourself.

You enforced your idea immediately - as instead of informing Lenore face to face, you called her.

"Ms Osgood, I need some time off for… personal reasons" you told her.

Lenore agreed of course, though that sudden phone call took her by surprise. She knew something wasn't quite alright, when you used her full name, but she didn't ask any questions.

She kept repeating everything that had happened the past week, yet she couldn't figure out what was actually going on. You had never taken time off before and the way you called whatever was happening - "personal reasons" caused her a lot of distress. What did that even mean? Were you in trouble? Was she supposed to do something? And why was she so worried about it?

At first Lenore tried to convince herself that she didn't really care. But she did. Her little game turned into something utterly different without her even realizing it. You turned out to be far more than just her seamstress and she appreciated you for more than only your brilliant mind or skills.

Lenore truly cared about you and missed you dearly. She missed your smile and seeing you blush at her compliments. She missed listening to you talking about your projects - so passionately.

Lenore was a grown-up and experienced woman, however she had never felt the way she felt with you. With you everything was different, new. And whatever she desired at the very beginning changed.

While you locked yourself in your apartment and lost yourself in work - as an attempt to distance from her, Lenore kept thinking of all the ways she could get closer to you. She was so desperate, so lovesick that she - the great heiress was ready to beg, even bow before for you if that was what it took.

You didn't expect Lenore to turn up at your door. It had been three days, you were sure everything was on the right track and you would manage to cure yourself of your fascination. Though, the moment you opened the door and saw Lenore in all her glory, everything came right back to you. All your feelings hit you again - that time with doubled power.

"Lenore… w-what are you doing here?"

"It's nice to see you too, Y/N" she said, passing by you - not waiting for you to invite her inside.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm down. How could anyone be able to make you feel so weak and yet so empowered at the same time?

Lenore walked in, then looked around your apartment. It wasn't too big, but she had to admit it was classy - you perfectly combined living space with workspace. But your flat wasn't what interested her the most. The heiress turned round to face you and offered you a cocky smile, as she took in your form. Lenore was used to seeing you in various dresses and heels, though that day you looked completely different. You were not only barefoot, but also instead of a dress, you had a white shirt and denim overalls on. Your hair was put in a messy ponytail and a measuring tape was draped around your neck - signifying that you were working.

"So, how can I help you?" you asked, not looking at Lenore.

The blonde smiled. "I was just passing by and thought I'd check on you"

"Check on me?" you repeated, raising your eyes.

"Yes" Lenore said calmly "Would you mind if I stay here for some time?"

"I-" you were about to protest, but it was too late, since Lenore sat down on one of the chairs and lit her cigarette.

"So, have you managed to resolve those personal reasons of yours?"

"Not really, I guess" you said, watching Lenore cross her legs.

The way you stared at her body didn't go unnoticed. Lenore didn't miss how flustered you got either, but she said nothing. It wasn't the right time - not just yet.

You sighed, approaching a table on which you had different materials laid. You got back to work, trying to ignore Lenore's presence. It was hard to focus on anything though. It was impossible when she was sitting there and watching you, but you kept trying anyways.

Lenore didn't speak for a few minutes. She simply enjoyed the moment - the possibility of watching you work and being around you in general.

"Is this a new project?" she asked, dragging on her cigarette.

"Actually yes. It's going to be your dress for the party that you're attending next month"

"Oh. Well, it looks nice"

You laughed at her words.

"It doesn't look like anything yet"

"I'm sure it'll be wonderful. Every project of yours is, darling"

You looked at her, not able to contain the smile caused by her compliment.

And that smile was what motivated Lenore to make the first step.

"You know, I was thinking about you for the past few days," she began, as you focused on pinning the fabric together again.

"They don't appreciate you enough. I mean those men you're working with. They're wasting your potential. You should work for your own brand and not for theirs"

"Well…" you were about to say something, but Lenore cut you off.

"And I figured out there are two ways I could help you in"

"Yeah?" you said, but still didn't pay much attention to her words.

"Yes" Lenore stubbed her cigarette and stood up, as she continued "I could either become some kind of your patroness. This is the first option, but personally I like the second one more" she explained, as she stopped on the opposite side of the table.

"What's the second option then?" you asked, reaching for yet another pin.

"Well" Lenore smiled. You were still so oblivious "I could be your sugar momma"

"Shit!" you cursed, as you accidentally hurt your finger with the pin "W-what?" you choked, looking at her. Your eyes were wide open, as Lenore approached you and carefully took your hand in her own. She then slowly brought the finger you had just cut to her lips and kissed it.

"I said…"

"No. I k-know what you said… I… I just…" you stuttered, not able to form any coherent sentence.

"Which option do you like better, sweetheart?" she asked in a low voice.

"I…" you gasped, staring at her lips.

You couldn't bring yourself to speak, so instead you leaned in and kissed her. You could feel how her lips formed a smirk and even though your eyes were shut at that point, you could see that damn sly smile.

"I was hoping you'd go with the second option" Lenore chuckled.

You wanted to respond to her words, but before you managed to regain the ability to think properly - Lenore lifted you up and made you sit on the table.

"Your dress…" you tried to protest, but were immediately cut off.

"I'd rather take you this time" Lenore said and captured your lips once again.

That definitely wasn't what you had expected when you accepted the job offer. You hadn't even dreamed about it. And even if you had, being so close to Lenore, feeling her warm hands on your body and her soft lips pressed against yours was beyond any wildest dreams you could ever have.

Tag list: @midnight-lestrange, @natasha-danvers, @stopkillinglilyrabe, @welshdragonrawr, @saucy-sapphic, @yang12e, @xixxiixx, @pradababey

#sorry if this is bad #lenore osgood #lenore osgood x reader #lenore osgood imagine #sharon stone imagine #ratched #ratched fanfiction #requests

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echotrinityme · 3 years ago

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Regretful Chapter 9: Let Me Love You

After Rupert's outburst, his and Henry's relationship has been strained. Henry was avoiding Rupert at all cost, and that hurt Rupert. Rupert tried to call or text him but received no response. Everytime he saw Henry in the base, Henry would immediately bolt to a different direction.

Rupert felt so much guilt and regret for blowing up at him, he didn't mean the words he said about Henry. He was angry at the fact that Calvin kissed him and it wasn't him that was doing that to him. He either spent training or in his tent, away from everyone else to brood or contemplate his life choices.

One day while in his tent, he was sitting on his bed, playing with his pocketknife when Victoria walked in. She smiled at him and he smiled back but didn't reach his eyes, she sat next to him and patted his back to comfort him.

"How are you doing?" she asked, softly.

"Terrible." replied Rupert, lowly.

"I can tell."

"I feel so guilty. And I know I deserved it but I didn't mean to hurt him."

"Have you tried to explain?"

"Yeah but he wouldn't listen."

Rupert put down his pocketknife and put his hat down to hide his face, he was trying hard not to cry. Victoria felt pity and sadness for him, she knew Rupert felt guilty about hurting Henry. He said those things in a fit of repressed anger cause of Charles' death. She also knew Rupert and Henry were the ones that Charles' death hit the most.

"Hey, it will be all right." reassured Victoria, gently.

"How?" questioned Rupert, his tone still low.

"Henry can't stay mad at you, forever."

"Yeah, I guess."

Rupert sighed heavily and lifted his head to look at Victoria, "But this wouldn't have happened if I wasn't so jealous."

Victoria on the outside looked surprised but on the inside she was not, she had suspected Rupert was jealous and now her suspicions are now confirmed.

"Do you love Henry?" asked Victoria, gingerly.

"Uh...I." replied Rupert, hesitantly.

"Do your days feel better when with him?"

"Yes."

"Are you attractive to him?"

"Yes."

"Do you fantasize about him?"

"Ye-What the fuck, Victoria!?"

Victoria laughed at Rupert's reaction whose face was red in embarrassment, he never expected Victoria to ask that question. Yes, he fantasize about Henry...a lot. It also didn't help he had wet dreams about him which made him more red.

"Quit it." muttered Rupert.

"I'm sorry, it's just so funny to see your reaction." giggled Victoria.

"Please, don't tell anyone about this." pleaded Rupert.

"I promise."

"Ok."

They both stopped talking and just sat silently. Rupert exhaled sharply and he got out his phone to check his notifications, still no word from Henry. He groaned in frustration and he got up, startling Victoria in the process. He went to the entrance of his tent but Victoria stopped him.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"Out." replied Rupert, tone clipped.

"Ok. Will you be okay?"

"Yeah."

Victoria let Rupert go but after a moment, she forget to mention to him about her mission to get him and Henry together.

Rupert was walking out the base and as he was walking, he stumbled onto the town that was near the base. He was walking around the town when he spotted a jewelry store, he peeked at the window and saw a black choker with a blue sapphire jewel at the center. It was so beautiful and perfect for Henry.

He contemplated for a moment, he misses Henry and he wants him back. He made a decision and went inside the store.

Meanwhile with Henry, he was in his bedroom crying and hugging himself. He was laying down and staring up at his ceiling, his head pounded and his eyes stung from the excessive sobbing. He groaned in sadness and got up to go get aspirin, he went to the bathroom to get the pills.

Henry's POV

My head hurts, I feel like crap. I'm tired of crying and I hate feeling vulnerable.

I thought my heart couldn't get more broken but I was wrong. Ever since Rupert's anger outburst, I had been avoiding him. I even been ignoring his texts and calls, I can't face him...not now.

I took the aspirin and went back to my bed, I lay back down again and stared up at my ceiling. I sighed sadly and began to close my eyes until I heard a knock on my door. I groaned in anger and went to answer the door, when I opened my door and saw the last person I want to see right now.

It was Rupert.

Rupert's POV

After I went to the jewelry store, I headed back to the base. I held an item in my right hand and put in my pocket.

Once I got back to the base, I waved to a couple of people and took out my phone to try to contact him again but decided to just go ever to his place.

I headed over to his place quickly and ascended the stairs to his apartment door, I knocked on the door and waited like a minute when he opened the door.

He did not look happy to see me...not that I don't blame him.

No One's POV

Henry stared at Rupert for a moment and glared at him, before he can shut the door on him, Rupert stopped him with his hand and boot on the door. He gave Henry a pleading look, he needed to talk to Henry.

Henry saw the sadness and remorseful on Rupert's face, Henry felt pity but was still angry and heartbroken at him. Henry contemplated for a few minutes and decided to let Rupert in, he led Rupert to his couch and they both sat on the couch.

There was a heavy silence and the tension was so thick, you can cut it with a knife. Henry refused to look at Rupert while Rupert kept staring at him, he knew he screwed up badly. Rupert cleared his throat and Henry glanced at him blankly.

"I'm sorry for hurting you." started Rupert, his voice wavered. "I didn't mean to hurt you like that."

Henry was listening and observing Rupert's body language, he was trembling, he was clutching his fists, and trying hard not to cry.

"I took my grief out on you." he continued. "It's not your fault that Charles is dead."

"But..." spoke Henry, softly. He was finally using his voice, making Rupert's eyes widened.

"Oi." said Rupert, gently. He grabbed Henry to hug him before Henry can protest. "It's not your fault, it's the Toppats."

Henry leaned into Rupert's chest and he began to sob, Rupert hugged him tightly while he cried. Rupert felt his eyes blurred with tears and he also started sobbing.

They kept on hugging and sobbing, Rupert was whispering apologizes to Henry and whispering comfort words.

They both ceased sobbing and they both wiped their eyes. They both sighed heavily, Rupert cleared his throat making Henry look at him.

"Are ya ok? Are ya still mad at me?" asked Rupert, softly and gently.

"Yeah and no, I'm not mad at you." replied Henry.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"But I hurt you, real badly."

"It's fine...I don't blame you. You're just grieving like I am."

While Henry was talking, Rupert was listening to his voice. He never realized that Henry's voice was so...soothing.

Henry was never a talker, he has selective mutsim and prefer using sigh language to talk. However, he opened up and began to talk more.

"Yeah." said Rupert. He needed to tell Henry why he was angry in the first place.

"Oi, there's an another reason why I blew up at you."

"Oh, what is it?"

Rupert turned away from Henry, he was nervous about telling him the truth. Henry noticed Rupert's anxious state and raised an eyebrow at him.

"I...was...jealous." mumbled Rupert.

"What?" said Henry, quizzically.

"I was jealous." replied Rupert, firmly.

"Jealous? Of who or what?"

"I was jealous of Calvin for kissing you."

Henry was confused for a moment until he felt his face became warm, Rupert's face also became warm. It's now or never, he supposed.

"I have feelings for you." admitted Rupert, softly.

"Oh."

Henry bowed his head down, not letting Rupert see his red face. Rupert mistakenly took that as a rejection, "It's ok, if you don't feel the way same way." said Rupert, sadly.

"I still want to be friends with you." he continued. "It's fine."

Rupert was rambling until he felt a hand on his cheek, he turned to see Henry looking at him and smiled.

"I have feelings for you, too." whispered Henry.

Before Rupert can say anything, Henry leaned forward and kissed him. Rupert's eyes widened but pretty soon, he closed his eyes and kissed him back.

Henry's hand was still on Rupert's cheek and Rupert wrapped his arms around Henry's waist. They kept kissing until they stopped to breathe, then they went back to kissing.

Their tongues fought for dominance while they both moaned in pleasure, Henry wrapped his arms around Rupert's neck and started to play with his black, spiky hair until a noise interrupted their make out session.

Rupert growled in frustration and Henry whined from the absence of Rupert's lips. They both turned to find the source of the noise is from Rupert's phone.

Rupert checked it and he sighed in annoyance, it was Victoria who needed to talk to him about something.

"Ugh, I gotta go." said Rupert, still annoyed. "Victoria needs me for something."

"Ok." replied Henry, sadly. "I'll see you around?"

"Yeah."

Rupert got up to leave but almost forgot something, "Hey, I want to give you something."

"What is it?"

"Close your eyes."

Henry did as he was told, while his eyes were closed, he felt something being tied around his neck.

"All done." said Rupert, happily. "Go look in a mirror."

Henry opened his eyes in confusion and went to a mirror, he gasped as he saw a beautiful choker with a sapphire pendant in the middle.

"Do you like it?" asked Rupert, shyly.

"I love it." replied Henry, breathlessly.

He went to hug Rupert and he kissed him on the cheek, making Rupert blushed in the process.

They both said their goodbyes and they both had never felt so much happiness in a while now. A/N: I was gonna write smut in this chapter but decided to write in the next chapter.

#Henry Stickmin #henry stickmim collection #henry stickmin x rupert price #rupert price #victoria grit #thsc #thsc henry stickmin #thsc rupert price #thsc victoria grit #stickprice

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fandomsonrequests · 4 years ago

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𝖆𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖘𝖊𝖑𝖊𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓..? [𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖙 8]

fandom: ATEEZ

characters: prince! park seonghwa

reader: fem! knight

word count: 3.5k+

summary: It was time for another Selection. No- not a Selection for a bride but rather a well-trained knight to keep Prince Seonghwa safe after a failed assassination attempt. You, a blacksmith’s daughter, manage to make it to the elite group of knights worthy and skilled enough to protect the crown prince after months and months of training. This alone catches Seonghwa’s eyes- in more ways than one

a/n: yAAAYY it’s finally here! part 8! it’s still a long ride so please forgive me if updates are getting slow ;^; school is really kicking my ass. plus there were flooding and typhoons that happened in my country so I lost internet for a few days. But thank you again for those who stuck by ;^;

taglist: @iwanttohitmyself @barcelona-sergei @minihongjoong @i-purrple-u @taetae123094 @jeonartemis @jibaxja @theoinkypiglet @sparklychangbin

↞previous ♛ next↠

Seonghwa walks alongside Hongjoong as they head towards the Queen’s parlor in the East Wing of the palace. Sometimes he wondered why the palace had to be so big- it was quite a walk to get from one place to another.

“How was Hae-seong’s class?” The shorter asked after a long moment of silence.

The Prince looked over to his friend with a bit of a hesitant look. “It looks fine... Although I think he was in a bad mood today.”

“Oh please; when isn’t that old fart in a bad mood.”

Seonghwa guffawed at the term his friend used on the Duke, clasping a hand over his mouth at that.

“You needed me, mother?” He asks as soon as he enters the Queen’s parlor.

It wasn’t a very large room but it was no less grand than the others. Paintings of past ancestors and the recent royal family hung in golden frames along the mauve-colored velvet walls of the parlor. A white marble fireplace was built in the center, a wide mirror hanging above it. In front of the fireplace were two plush couches, of course in a mauve shade, with a white and silver table placed in between the couches.

His mother was quite picky with color combinations.

The Queen turns her attention from her Ladies-In-Waiting and to her son, beaming a rather large smile and patting the space next to her on one of the couches. “Come sit.” She invites him.

Seonghwa greeted the other ladies in the room and sat next to his mother. As soon as he does that, the Ladies-in-Waiting, save for the eldest one, take it as their cue to leave the room and give some privacy for the mother and son.

“Seonghwa,” The Queen starts taking her son’s hand into his. “Your father and I have been planning something for you.”

Another thing?? When will these surprises end?

“Since your father planned something similar to a selection for your personal guard, we decided that we won’t be holding a selection for your bride.”

That caught the young prince off-guard. It has been a tradition that dates back several centuries that their family line would have a selection for the spouse of every royal offspring. That was how his mother met his father. His father came from the kingdom near the oceans and the docks and managed to win the Queen’s heart amongst all the suitors.

But it made sense for them to forgo that tradition. The assassin that slipped into his room came from a different kingdom. His parents were just taking precautions by calling the whole thing off.

Sure it would cause some small (or maybe even large) disputes between the allying kingdoms but ties were already shaky the day Seonghwa was meant to be assassinated.

“Then I suppose I’ll be marrying someone within the kingdom?” Asked the Prince to which he was answered with a nod.

The Queen took her son’s hand in hers and ran her delicate thumb against the back of his knuckles. “We’re still deciding on who you will marry but so far, we think Hae-seong’s daughter would be a good match for you.”

Oh, her.

Hae-seong was blessed with three children, his middle child being his only daughter: Ayeong. She and Seonghwa were around the same age, with him being just a few months older.

It wasn’t that Ayeong was mean or anything, it’s just that he didn’t have the best memories growing up with her. He remembered taking a massive liking to her when they were younger. He was around fourteen or fifteen years old when he confessed his feelings to her, right under the large oak tree that grew in the prairie at the back of the palace.

To his dismay, she didn’t return his feelings. She fancied one of the young knights-in-training then. Despite the unrequited emotions, he still respected her and tried not to look so heartbroken around her. But ever since then, he’s been avoiding her around the palace.

He wondered if what took place back then would affect his parent’s plans for both of them.

“Oh.. does Hae-seong know about it?” Seonghwa prompted.

“No, not yet. We plan on telling him. I don’t think he would be opposed to it though. And besides, you’re good friends with her, I’m sure you don’t mind.”

He gives a slightly strained smile at that and just bowed his head. “Whatever you think is best, mother.”

“Thank you, my dear.” She leaned forward and kissed his forehead. “Well, that’s all I wanted to tell you. You may go back to where you were.”

“I think I’d like to stay here with you for a while, mother.”

The Queen smiles fondly at that. She couldn’t help but take his cheeks in her hands and give them a pinch, making her son protest in slight pain. He may have grown up to be a strong, intelligent, and handsome young man but in her eyes, he will always be her baby: wide curious eyes and a spirited laugh tumbling from his crooked-toothed smile.

“That’s all for today. You may head down to the dining hall for lunch before going to the courtyard for your lessons with Byron.” Hae-seong dismisses the class.

It’s only been a few minutes since the class had ended and they were already drained. Hae-seong talked too fast for their liking. At first, he would stop and go back to something they missed when someone pointed it out but eventually he grew tired of that and kept speeding through the lesson despite the class’s protests.

“I just want a break,” Raviv sighs, rubbing his temple to soothe his incoming migraine. “That was so much information to absorb.”

“I think he’s purposely trying to make us fail.” You say in a hushed tone.

Your friends nod in agreement. They suspected that the duke didn’t want them there but this kind of attitude coming from him furthered that suspicion. Lunchtime went by in a blur and now the whole group was standing in the middle of the courtyard, awaiting for Byron to come.

Though you were hesitant when it came to academics, you felt much more confident in this area. You’ve never really fought with swords but your brother had a habit of play- fighting with you, so you knew a thing or two about having to defend yourself.

You glance over to the quarry-workers from your village and other mountain villages. A few of them were joking around and showing off their strength by butting into each other. You couldn’t blame them, some probably did that to shake off their nerves. But you knew there were some that just really liked to show off.

Like Michael. He was… nice when he wanted to be but he caused a lot of trouble back in Trelark. He always found himself in a kerfuffle and never really learned to back down even when the situation called for it. He was the type of guy who bets his pride with high stakes.

Others seemed apprehensive; one of those people was Amihan. She wrung her hands together in anxiousness, her fingers playing with the hem of her shirt. People from the mountain were deemed as tough- especially since the living conditions there were less than ideal. But Amihan grew up in the lowlands, she was afraid she didn’t live up to those sayings.

“Hey,” You call out to her in a quiet voice. She turns to look at you, her brows creased. You offer her a gentle smile and a nod before mouthing the words, It’s okay.

Her shoulders relaxed a little but you could see that her whole frame was still tense.

A few minutes later, Byron arrives with a few other knights who were pushing two carts of sturdy wooden swords to be used in your lessons. The group of delegates grew silent at the sight of the practice weapons before them, reminding them that this was real and it's not just fun and games anymore.

“I hope you all had a good lunch,” Byron says with a warm smile.

His welcoming deposition was enough to lessen the heavy tension in the area. It was such a contrast to the cold and annoyed aura Hae-seong displayed earlier. It was, albeit abrupt, a nice change.

“In case you all forgot my name, I am Byron. You don’t have to call me sir, or anything. My name is enough,” The man said, his voice loud and clear over the courtyard. “Most of your training here at the palace will be held with me so you don't have to worry about Hae-seong breathing down your neck.”

A few delegates sighed and chuckled in relief at that, eliciting an amused huff from Byron.

“Although it doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t do well in his class. Always strive for the best no matter what situation. Now, I think I’ve talked too much. Find a partner- preferably someone your size or strength- and we can begin our lessons.”

You glance around to find a suitable partner for the lessons. Usually, in situations where you need a partner, you would ask Siyeon to go along with you or vice versa. But in this particular situation, you had to look for someone else.

It’s not that you were incredibly strong as a person but you packed a harder punch than most girls your age. You didn’t want to hurt your best friend.

“Hey Raviv,” You call out to your other friend. “Do you have a partner yet?”

“Not yet. Do you want to be partners?” He asks as he approaches you.

You couldn’t help but laugh a little. “That’s why I asked you if you had one.”

You bumped your shoulder with him, a little greeting for him, as soon as you reached each other. He slings an arm over you and ruffles your hair, only for you to end up swatting his hand away.

Siyeon was paired with another girl from your village, Gahyeon was her name if you remembered correctly, while Amihan was off to the side with one of her friends from the lowlands.

As soon as everyone was paired, the other knights that came with Byron started handing out the training swords. It was much heavier than it looked but not as heavy as the weapons you handle back at the smithy.

Your fingers curled around the leather-wrapped handle as your other hand held the “blade” part of the sword. You couldn’t help but admire the craftsmanship of the sword, even if it was wooden. You gave it a couple of bounces and twirled it a little to test out its weight. You look up when you hear Raviv give an impressed whistle, looking at you with pride in his eyes.

Your face immediately heats up in embarrassment, dropping the sword to your side after.

“Try not to kill me later, please.” Your friend teases as he knocks his sword with yours.

Before you could respond, Byron calls out for your attention, making all of you turn to him. He had a training sword of his own in his hold, his sword pressed into the gravel beneath his scuffed boots. “We’ll start with the basics today. I hope by the end of our lessons for the day, you all get to learn a thing or two. And don’t get too discouraged if you can’t get it right today. You still have a month to learn before the grading.

“Anyway, let’s start.”

The sound of wood crashing against wood and several shuffling feet echoed around the courtyard and floated up the palace walls. It could be heard from inside the palace although muffled by the layers of stone that made up the walls.

Seonghwa walked down the hall, curious to see how the training was going when he saw a young man curiously watching the delegates train rigorously through a large window, peering down into the courtyard. He could see Byron walking around with calculating eyes as he takes note of each delegate’s stances.

“San,” The prince calls out with a grin, making the young man jump in surprise.

San’s cat-like eyes turn onto him. “Prince Seonghwa, you scared me.”

“Oh please, you can drop the formalities. It’s just us.”

San shrugged with a chuckle, allowing the older male to stand beside him. “I’d rather be safe than sorry, hyung. Especially after Duke Hae-seong gave me an earful when he heard me address you so casually.”

San was the son of one of the earls in the king’s court. It was only natural that he and San would end up as friends since San practically grew up in the palace.

“I guess,” Seonghwa hums as he watches the delegates.

Their swords clashed against each other as they practiced the strikes Byron had shown them earlier. Many of them looked like they could hold their own fight, pushing on despite the fatigue they felt in their arms and the sweat that slid down their skin. But there were also several of them that flinched and cowered when the training swords came towards them.

“They look promising,” San says, pulling the prince out of his thoughts. “Especially the ones from the city-towns.”

And it was true. Usually, city-towns like the Capitol had Fencing as an optional part of the curriculum in their education only because they were able to afford the materials and maintain it. Other regions weren’t as fortunate to be blessed with this kind of lesson; although, technical skill can be outmatched or be on par with street smarts.

Seonghwa’s gaze landed on a particular person. It was the woman from the day before. She still had that intense look in her eyes as she brought her training sword against her partners. Her movements were strong yet fluid, albeit less graceful than the other knights but no less powerful.

He watches as she shuffles away from blocking her partner’s strike only for her to come swiftly at him. He notices how her once concentrated expression shifts to a more joyous one when she finally intercepts her friend’s attack and strikes the air near his vital spot

“She’s good.” He blurts out, making San quirk his head in curiousness.

“What was that hyung?”

Seonghwa’s eyes widened when he realized that he’s said his thoughts aloud. His cheeks flush a bright red, spreading all the way up to his ears. He clears his throat to clear the awkward air around him, the smirk that San was sending him didn’t help.

The younger male follows his gaze and his smirk grows wider. “Ooohhh, her. Oh yeah, she’s definitely good. I think she’s better than you, hyung.”

“Oh haha.” Seonghwa laughs dryly with an amused roll of his eyes.

San chuckled in return and kept his gaze on the woman Seonghwa seemed so interested in. “I think she’d last long with this training,” he remarks. “I’m going to bet she may even be your bodyguard.”

The prince hums in acknowledgment. “You think so?”

“I know so, hyung.”

Seonghwa glances again at the woman and lets San’s words sink in. He could never really tell if she would really end up as his protector but he had a good feeling about her.

By the time the delegates were done with their first day of training, the sun was starting to set. The sky turned from a bright blue to the crisp rose-gold color of the evening. The usual sounds from the Capitol quiet down as the day comes to an end.

Several people were sitting on the ground, catching their breaths while their swords lay on the dirt beside them. Others were leaning against the pillars of the courtyard. The air around them felt heavy as every ounce of energy drained out of the delegates.

Byron chuckled at the sight. “You did well, all of you.” He says as he watches them pick themselves up from the ground. “I hope you don’t feel so disheartened after today because this is just the beginning.”

You groan in exhaustion along with the other delegates. Right now, using the word tired to describe what you felt would be an understatement.

“We’ll continue again tomorrow. Make sure to wash up before you eat, you’ll be measured to have uniforms tailored for you.” Byron dismisses you all.

As you all line up to return the training swords to the racks, Siyeon stumbles in line behind you. “My arms are gonna fall off.” She mumbles into your shoulder while her arms wrap around your waist.

“At least you’re alive.” You reply and lean your head onto hers. “But at this point, I just want to eat and shower.”

“Oh, you said it.”

You feel so worn out as you allow your feet to drag you back to the girls’ quarters to wash up and change for dinner. Your mind grows blank and the rest of the evening happens in a blur. You didn’t even realize how late it was into the evening until the smell of food stirred your senses.

You didn’t eat in the dining hall this time. You were led to a smaller, more simple room. It wasn’t as grand as the dining hall but it was large enough to fit all of you.

“Are we really going to eat here..?” You hear Michael grumble to his friend. “I was really enjoying the dining hall..”

“Well of course we’re going to eat here. We aren’t of the royal family or part of the court,” Someone from the city-town sneers. One of the girls looked at everyone else like they’re worms to grovel at her feet. You never really liked her- and how she was acting right now giving you all the more reason not to. “So I suggest learning your place. Don’t get comfortable yet.”

That successfully managed to keep Michael quiet. But the tone that city-town dweller used ticked you off. You were never really confrontational unless pushed, so you kept quiet. You opted to just offer Michael a sympathetic smile before walking over to an available seat.

“Fucking highlanders..” She mumbled to herself as they passed by you.

You turn over to her, glaring daggers in the back of her head. You hope that one day karma gets to her and she’d eat up the words she tossed at your friends.

As dinner comes to an end, Mina enters the dining hall with a few people carrying some fabrics and measuring tape trailing behind her. You turn your attention to her and give her a small wave to which she responds with a bright smile and a slight bow.

“If I may have your attention, delegates.” She calls out in her clear voice. The hall becomes quiet and all attention is focused on her. “You’ll be having your fitting for your uniforms today. Expect the uniforms to arrive in two weeks.

“Now if you’re done eating, kindly line up. The tailors and seamstresses shall be measuring you.”

Half of the delegates stood and walked over to where Mina was, awaiting their turn to be measured. You wondered what kind of uniforms you’d be provided- and why it would be made so fast. Siyeon always told you that making one shirt alone took quite a while. Aside from that, the type of fabric and the design of the clothing would affect the process too.

“I hope they don’t put us in super stuffy uniforms like some royal guards,” Amihan says from across you as she finishes up her meal. “I feel like I’ll suffocate.”

“Oh yeah like the ones with the neck collars. Those seem stuffy.” Raviv adds, mouth halfway full with his mashed potatoes.

You hand him a napkin to wipe his mouth with before speaking up. “I think those types of uniforms are just for show.”

“Goodbye, practicality hello death,” Siyeon smirks, earning a playful shove from Amihan.

Little by little, once they were done being fitted, the delegates filed out of the dining area and went back to their rooms. Your friends went ahead since they were tired and you were one of the last people to be measured.

You waved goodbye to Siyeon, shouting after her to not leave her wet towel on your bed again, and walked up to the seamstress. Once you were done, you thanked her and walked back to your room.

Luckily the dining area wasn’t too far from your rooms so you didn’t get lost on the way back. Although, you did take your time walking. The palace was so different at night, especially with how the torches that lined the walls cast a shadow against everything (or everyone) in the hall.

It was a little eerie with the silence and everything but it also held some sort of ambiance to it. The soft golden glow from the torches made the enormous palace seem warm and cozy, especially on a night as cold as this.

By the time you reached the girls’ quarters most were already in bed and asleep. Very few were awake, sitting on each other’s beds and whispering away. You go through your usual nightly routine and crawl into bed, a relieved sigh escaping you when your tired muscles relax.

You blow out the candle on your bedside table after pressing a quick kiss to the pendant your father gave you and let yourself drift into sleep.

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geekgirles · 3 years ago

Text

Your Heart

Chapter 6 -- A Ghostophobe, a Giant Iguana, and Vegan Nacho Cheese

Word Count: 14402

READ ON AO3

As an aspiring astronaut, Danny’s dream had always been going to space.

Being able to look at the vastness of the universe, to literally look down on Earth and see every single country at once, to stargaze up close… All from the comfort of the space station as he leisurely floated around in zero gravity.

Really, that was all he asked for.

He was convinced he lost his chance when he got his powers.

Although not directly connected to his dream, the birth of Danny Phantom almost put his GPA in jeopardy several times. Before the accident, he used to be a good student, granted, not as good as Jazz, but he brought home good marks. But once the first sleepless night trying to catch rogue ghosts came, countless more were soon to follow.

Between the lack of sleep, being tardy to class or skipping it altogether, and many more instances of ‘teenage rebellion’ (all caused by his attempts to save everyone from malevolent spirits, not like anyone cared), Danny was sure his dreams of going to space had all but vanished before him.

There were no words capable of describing his joy when he miraculously pulled just the mark he needed to be accepted at Amity Park University’s Astrophysics degree. So what if he couldn’t go to a fancy college like Yale, or Stanford? That was Jazz’s dream, not his. Besides, studying at APU was perfect for protecting the town and getting access to the Ghost Zone.

He seriously doubted any of those preppy colleges would have granted him permission to build a ghost portal in their labs, anyway.

And so, he was closer to his dream than he’d thought he’d ever be during all of high school. During that time, he found solace in flying. Being one of the only two people in the whole world who could fly without help was even more special than being selected by NASA; a feat in itself. And it was so...liberating.

Even when he struggled most with his powers, just being able to fly made it all worth it. The immense relief that would envelop him whenever he just let the breeze guide him, lazily swaying in the sky and under the moonlight. The feeling he’d get whenever the adrenaline coursed through his veins as he picked up speed, sometimes even breaking the sound barrier when he felt like really challenging himself. Or just the chance to quiet the hectic voices ruling his life, even for just one moment: fight ghosts, save everyone, try to fit in, don’t let Mum and Dad find out what you are. Fight ghosts, save everyone, try to fit in, don’t let Mum and Dad find out what you are. Fight ghosts, save everyone, try toー

The mere chance to leave his worries behind, even for just a second, made the prospect of losing his one chance at his dream seem worth it.

Although...he did get the chance to be an astronaut during freshman year. But that was a story for another day.

Now, at twenty-one and with even more things to worry about, flying was still the one place he could find solace in. Tucker often told him that’d change the day he found himself a girlfriend, but let’s be real; who’d want to date someone like him?

Unlike high school, however, his problem wasn’t his look or his personality. The not-so-subtle glancesーwhich were almost predatory, might he addーand shameless gossiping and squealing he got from the girls around campus confirmed he’d grown from ‘Scrawny, Awkward Fenturd’, to ‘Tall, Dark, and Handsome Fenstud.’

The moniker stroked his ego, he wasn’t going to deny it. But the problem wasn’t his popularity with the opposite sex. The problem was how the opposite sex would react if they knew his secret.

Okay, maybe that was the wrong way to phrase that sentence. If the excited shrieking and squealing his alter ego received from the members of his fan club were anything to go by, any of those girls would faint in elation if they ever got the chance to date Danny Phantom. The polls from gossip magazines dedicated to discussing how hot the Ghost Boy was ーwhen were they gonna change that nickname to ‘Ghost Man’, anyway? When he was 40?!ー didn’t lie.

The real problem would come when his girlfriend got involved in his double life. And even if he wouldn’t want her to be involved, let alone fight ghosts alongside him like Tucker and Jazz did, deep down he knew it was inevitable. The moment his enemies found out he had a new girlfriend, they would use her to get to him. After all, what better way to defeat someone than to exploit his weakness? If Technus, of all people, could come up with that plan, anybody else could.

As he surveyed Amity Park from above, lost in his thoughts, Danny suddenly registered a source of heat coming from his right. Quickly swirling in the opposite direction to avoid the incoming projectile, a pink beam of ecto-energy, he quickly scanned his surroundings to identify his opponent. And judging by the way his Ghost Sense hadn't gone off, that could only be one person.

“Valerie.”

“It’s Red Huntress for you, spook!” A snarl, accompanied by another pink blast, came from above him. After blocking the attack with an ecto-shield, he looked up. Lo and behold, Valerie was hovering over him on her forked, black and red hoverboard, an ecto-gun protruding from her forearm and aimed directly at him.

Valerie Gray, also known as The Red Huntress. Amity Park’s most competent ghost hunter, after him. Who also happened to be his sorta-kinda-maybe-it’s-complicated ex-girlfriend. Or his S.K.M.I.C.E.G.F. for short.

Somehow, that acronym never had a good reception.

His story with Valerie was...an interesting one, to say the least. Their relationship was full of ups and downs, with the downs eventually becoming an integral and exclusive part of their interactions as Danny Phantom and The Red Huntress.

They started out as complete strangers. Well, not exactly. They both knew of each other back in the beginning to freshman year of high school, but they didn’t know each other. Valerie started out as another A-lister; haughty, self-centred, she made no effort to hide her disdain for those ‘bellow her.’ Of course, Danny, being Danny Fenton, one of the biggest losers in Casper High, was particularly low in her long list of those ‘bellow her.’

But that all changed thanks to a little ghost puppy he called Cujo.

Cujo was the ghost of a guard dog trained by Axion Labs, where Damon Gray, Valerie’s father, worked. They got rid of the dogs after upgrading the security system, with the misfortune of preparing the labs for any possible kind of assault, except for a ghost puppy with the ability to turn into a bigger, more menacing dog looking for his lost chew toy.

Needless to say, things could’ve gone better. If only because his accidental meddling had been indirectly responsible for Mr. Gray losing his job, the Grays losing their fortune and their house, Valerie falling from grace and losing her popularity, and her developing a huge grudge against all ghosts, especially him, that lasted well into present time.

If there were job applications for fucking people over that weren’t exclusively related to sex work, he’d be a pro.

As expected when someone dedicated their lives to hunting you, regardless of your attempts to befriend them or explain the situation, the two didn’t quite get along at first. Between Valerie’s newfound purpose to waste him and the fact that she never really acknowledged she’d been as terrible to him and Tucker as the A-listers were now with her, the two often butted heads even at school.

Their opinions of each other didn’t change until Skulker forced them to work together to survive his island and his attempts at hunting them both, when they actually had a heart-to-heart. Their civilian selves being simultaneously paired up for a Health class project also helped.

But what really changed things was the very same events that turned Danny Phantom into the Ghost King.

During Pariah Dark’s return, Danny Fenton and Valerie Gray really connected, and Danny learned to appreciate her in a whole new light. She was amazing while she fought Dark and the Fright Knight; the months she’d had to hone her abilities really shone through. Her attacks were intuitive, yet calculated. Her moves, nimble but they packed quite the punch. She was confident, and yet cautious enough to not get cocky.

As odd as it sounded, seeing her fight was incredibly hot.

...alright, so maybe he did have a thing for girls who could kick his ass. He blamed his dad for that one.

That day, something sparked between them...but only between Danny Fenton and Valerie; she still hated the Ghost Boy with every fiber of her being. She was positively furious when she found out he’d been chosen as the next ruler of the Ghost Zone.

Danny had to admit, anybody else with half a brain cell would have understood that crushing on a girl hellbent on destroying a part of him maybe wasn’t the best idea ever. Tucker and Jazz certainly thought so. But he was fourteen, hormones were high, and Valerie was the coolest girl he’d ever met so far, so…

Common sense be damned.

And so, they tried going out for some time. During those few dates the two went together he was over the moon, walking on air, he couldn’t believe his luck! He’d finally found a girl who liked him for him. Someone real and approachable, unlike his previous crushes on popular girlsーironically enough since Valerie herself used to be an unapproachable popular girl.

The universe itself seemed to want them to be together!

Not only did they dates suddenly get better thanks to some weird coincidenceーa blackout turning a dinner in a greasy diner into a romantic candle-lit evening, winning carnival tickets at the baseball game, the ferris wheel stopping at the most romantic point possibleーbut they seemed to be enough to get the idea inside Valerie’s head that maybe their relationship was worth giving up ghosthunting for.

Until Tucker, Jazz, and, surprisingly enough, Technus burst his little bubble. Turned out, Technus, who still didn’t respect him as his new ruler, seeing Valerie as a potential weakness, manipulated their relationship to keep him busy while he worked on his latest scheme.

The self-called ‘Master of Technology’ was also responsible for Valerie’s hatred of ghosts being renewed, for the destruction of her original suit followed by an upgrade to her current armor, and for Danny’s one-time experience in space (a happy coincidence).

Oh, and had he mentioned Technus’ meddling also led to Valerie breaking up with him before he could even ask her to go steady (hence the S.K.M.I.C.E.G.F. situation), giving him the most cliché excuse in the superheroing book, because she hated his ghost half more than she liked his human half?

Because it totally did.

Looking back, with Valerie’s icy glare set on him and a very menacing looking ecto-gun aimed straight at his forehead, maybe dating a ghost hunter set on killing him wasn’t his best idea. Fucking hormones…

“Look, Valerie, can we wrap this up? I’m really not in the mood.”

“Oh, we’ll wrap it up alright, Phantom,” she sneered, “with your ass in a body bag!” She shot at him again with the weapon protruding from her forearm. Seeing as the ghost only ducked the ecto-rays with relative difficulty, she changed tactics. Quickly typing down a command on her control panel, from between her fingers materialised three razor-sharp pink discs.

The moment her attention was focused elsewhere, Danny took the chance and flew off at top speed. Noticing his attempt to escape from the corner of her eye, refusing to let him get away, the Red Huntress stepped on the hidden button of her board’s body. With a whirring sound, the engines roared to life, allowing her to fly after him.

Once the Ghost Boy was within reaching distance and too busy trying to get away from her, with a swift motion of her arm, Valerie hurled the pink discs at him. At the sound of air being sliced, Danny turned his head just enough to notice the pink projectiles coming towards him from the corner of his eye. Maneuvering through the sky, he managed to dodge the first two, but as he ducked away from the second disc, the third came close enough to slice his upper arm.

Wincing in pain, not once stopping his flight, he cradled his arm to inspect the wound. Despite the oozing ectoplasm coming out of it, it was just a superficial cut. He’d live. As he registered the sudden heat approaching his back, Danny understood the only way to get rid of Valerie was fighting her.

As much as he hated fighting a friend, it was pointless to resist when said friend was trying to shoot holes into his body. And if he made the mistake of letting her get too close, he’d get caught in between her board’s forked ends, giving his chaser the perfect chance to activate the stinger and electrocute him.

“Hate to break it to you, Valerie. But I’m already dead, so body bags are pretty pointless!” Charging up his ecto-ray, hands glowing green, Danny shot in her direction, holding back just enough so Val would be forced to swirl around the sky to avoid getting hit. It was his signature move when facing off against Valerie: distract her with the need for an evasive maneuver in order to gain enough time to escape himself.

Just as he predicted, when the green rays of energy got closer to her, the Red Huntress willed her board to keep moving to the opposite direction of the blasts. What he hadn’t predicted, though, was that she’d change tactics and face the blasts head-on. The impact caused a plume of smoke to rise up in the air, hiding the girl from view.

Before he could fuss over her safety, however, Valerie rose up above him. Hunched down on her board before elegantly moving to stand tall, a smug grin on her face, she was surrounded by a bluish ghost shield coming from her preferred method of transport. He always forgot she could do that. “That’s too bad.” She said in a fake, sugary voice. “Guess I’ll just have to resign myself to seeing you fade.”

In an instant, she willed three metallic cubes to manifest around her head and shoulders. As the devices charged up, the Red Huntress gave chase to him once more.

Reacting almost a split-second too late, Danny resumed his own attempts of leaving her behind. Whenever an energy beam got too close for comfort, he either put all his years of flying to good use and miraculously managed to avoid getting hit, or he’d focus his energy on forming ecto-shields of different sizesーdepending on her ecto-rays' own intensity. The untrained observer would point out he could just turn intangible and the beams would harmlessly pass through him, but that was too simple. And fighting Val was never simple.

Even when she’d first got her gearーand by that he meant her old, non-Technus-upgraded gearーthe Red Huntress’ various weapons were all capable of hitting him even when he went intangible. Therefore, lowering his guard like that around her was like a clear invitation to get his ass whooped.

Getting frustrated, with Val still hot in his ghost-tail, he bellowed, “Would you just quit it?! I still got a mark from the last time we fought!”

Smirking darkly, Valerie forewent her cubic guns for her trusty ecto-grenade. “Then I know where to hit next.” She declared before throwing the dangerous device at him, hitting him square on his left shoulder.

As a burning pain suddenly spread through his left shoulder to the tip of his fingertips, not all was lost, for the resulting explosion had sent him flying across the sky to the asphalt, effectively putting some much needed distance from him and his pursuer.

Hands propped on the street and barely supporting his weight, Danny laboriously lifted his head up. All around him, people were either running away in fright of the impending battle or crowding the street as they pointed at him, whispering amongst themselves.

Lifting himself up to a sitting position, the halfa gently nursed his aching shoulder, wincing in pain whenever his fingertips touched the sensitive skin. Although whatever damage Valerie had managed to inflict upon him would soon be gone thanks to his enhanced healing factor, he knew he didn’t have the luxury to wait that long. Knowing the ghost hunter, she’d be around, looking for him. And the moment she found him, she’d waste no time resuming their confrontation.

The Red Huntress would never stop until the source of all her misery was finally banished to the Ghost Zone, or disposed off permanently.

Grunting in pain, Danny willed the cold of his core to spread throughout his body until it reached his hands. The moment his hand blazed a familiar, chilly blue he began caressing his suffering shoulder, the cold emanating from his fingertips a welcomed painkiller.

“Is there anything more unfair than being pummeled to a pulp when you’re actually holding back from hurting the other person?” He grunted, but his musings were cut short by another ecto-beam barely missing his head, a whiff of smoke coming from the asphalt that’d cushioned the hit.

His heart suddenly in his throat, the halfa gingerly looked up, only to find Valerie a few feet away from him, a smoking, double-cannoned ecto-bazooka resting on her shoulder, which only elicited the whispers around them to grow louder, more frantic. “Gotcha.” She said, her glare colder than his ice powers.

Adrenaline kicking his brain in overdrive, Danny frantically looked around, trying to find a way to escape that didn’t involve hurting Valerie or any of the onlookers. Argh, if only he could just turn intangible! As he futilely tried crawling away, his gloved hands moving against the asphalt floor below him, the sensation sparked an idea. Maybe turning intangible was useless against the Red Huntress’ weapons, but phasing wasn’t.

The only thing he needed was a distraction, and the whirring sound coming from the charging ecto-bazooka gave him an idea. It was reckless, but that seemed to be his thing lately, wasn’t it?

“Say goodbye, Phantom!” Valerie spat just as the weapon perched on her shoulder was done charging up, shooting a powerful blast his way.

Using the hand that was previously healing his wounds, Danny shot his own ecto-ray at the incoming projectile, causing his adversary to gasp in surprise. “Goodbye, Red!”

As the two forces came into contact with each other, under the stunned gazes of everyone present, they exploded into a blinding light that forced everyone, Valerie included, to shield their eyes. Wasting no time, Danny turned intangible, phasing through the floor and into the Amity Park sewer system. Once underground, he let his transformation drop, knowing Val’s Ghost Radar would find him otherwise, before making his way around the sewers in search of the nearest exit, his body leaning against the wall for support.

After what felt like an eternity, Valerie finally got her forearm out of her face. What was the point in having a dark-tinted visor if she could still be blinded? Once she’d regained the totality of her sight, that is to say, she no longer saw dark spots dancing around her vision, she quickly redirected her gaze to where Phantom stood.

Nothing.

Gasping, Valerie looked up to the sky. As her eyes scanned around for a black and white, flying figure, or even anything amiss in case the Ghost Boy had turned invisible, she soon realised the green-eyed spook was truly nowhere to be seen. Despite her growing frustration at losing her target, the Red Huntress quickly typed a command on her suit, hoping her Ghost Radar could still detect him. No such luck.

Growling in frustration with murder in her eyes, she jumped mid-air, summoning her hoverboard to appear right bellow her. Roaring the engines to life, she took off in direction to Elmerton, her home for the last seven years.

As she soared the skies, Valerie kept looking back and forth between her radar and her surroundings, looking for Phantom. “I was so close, damn it! Every time I think I finally have that ectoplasmic punk right where I want him, he up and disappears!” With a furious yell to the sky, she leaned on her board, using her feet to increase its speed.

Her gear had to be the only good thing that came out of her first encounter with that ghostly bastard. Even if she’d lost everything and her dad was constantly working long hours to keep her in collegeーher wonderful, incredible, genius dad, who deserved much more than just being a crammy security night guardー, at least what happened at Axion Labs all those years ago had given her two things: the gear necessary to become Amity Park’s most powerful ghost hunter, and the purpose to eliminate all bodiless apparitions from the face of the Earth.

Starting by Danny Phantom.

Valerie could only scoff at some people’s stupidity. Although most citizens had half the brains necessary to figure out Danny Phantom was a threat, there were still some who revered him as some kind of hero.

Oh, it was true. He saved the town from falling into that Ghost King’s claws, but didn’t anybody remember what happened afterwards? Because she did. Not even a week after ‘saving’ everyone from a fate worse than deathーand causing her some injuries and for her dad to both find out about her ghost-hunting escapades and forbid her from ever touching her equipment again, to add insult to injuryー, he ascended as the next Ghost King.

And people still celebrated him? Were they blind?!

It was clear that Phantom only ever fought the Ghost King, not to protect Amity Park, or whatever nonsense he kept trying to feed the public, but to dethrone him himself! He wanted that psycho’s position for himself, so he could keep terrorising the town with even less opposition than before!

“Hero my ass…” Valerie scoffed in disbelieving disgust.

But, apparently, only Valerie and the Fentons had any common sense on the matter. “Wow. Never thought I’d have anything in common with the Fentons…” she mused aloud. As much as she’d liked Danny when they were fourteen, his family was a whole different thing.

When she finally made out her apartment complex in the distance, the armored girl couldn’t help but carefully glide near their living room window, where she could see her father sleeping soundly on the couch after a long nightーtoo tired to even go to bed.

Carefully resting her gloved hand against the window glass, worriedly looking at the man who’d been her only source of comfort for as long as she could remember, her heart broke. “Don’t worry, Dad. I promise, one day Phantom’ll be mine. And then we’ll finally cash in that reward and leave this shit hole once and for all.”

With renewed determination, she went around her floor until she was right beside her own room. Due to her always leaving her bedroom window open, all she had to do was squeeze herself inside. Now standing in her room, she deactivated her suit, which disappeared in a swirl of electricity. Walking over her mirror, Valerie picked up a quasi-new set of clothes that were lying on her chair. “But first, let’s pay that college tuition. It won’t look good if I’m late on my first day.”

............

Phasing through the walls, Danny stumbled into his sister’s room. He would’ve fallen face-first on the floor hadn’t it been for his hands instinctively stopping the fall.

Her head snapping to the distinctive sound of a ‘thud’, Jazz immediately swirled around on her computer chair. “A little help?” Danny grunted tiredly.

Gasping at the state her little brother was in, the redhead all but threw herself at him in order to inspect any possible wounds, only to recoil in disgust when she caught a sniff of him, pinching her nose. “Ew! What happened to you to smell that horridly?! What did you do, die for real?”

“I phased through the floor and into the sewers.” The black-haired boy dryly corrected, not appreciating his sister’s skewed priorities. “Now, if you would be so kind as to help me out...”

Jazz at least had the decency to blush. Offering a hand to her brother, she helped him stand up before guiding him to her bed. Then she lowered him on top of it and resumed her previous inspection of him. She jumped back in surprise at Danny’s sudden, sharp inhale of breath when she accidentally grazed his left shoulder.

In an instant, she was basically in his face, fussing over him. “Danny? Are you okay? Is there anything wrong with your shoulder?”

“Everything’s fiー”, he stopped short when he registered her worried look. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I saw Valerie today.”

“Oh, no.” The eldest Fenton kid lamented, knowing where the conversation was headed.

“Yeah...I tried losing her, but in the meantime she landed a few mean punches on me...figuratively speaking, of course.”

“So I’m guessing your shoulder cushioned a nasty one?”

He nodded, barely turning his head to look at her. “Ecto-grenade.” He said simply, and Jazz cringed in sympathy. “Yeah. I numbed the pain a little by applying some cold with my powers, but a few real painkillers might do me some good until it’s properly healed.”

“Sure.” With a nod, Jazz got up from the bed and crossed over to the other side of the room, where her closet was located. Opening the door and standing on her tiptoes to reach the higher shelf, she grabbed her hidden first aid kit before setting it down on her desk. “Any other injuries I should know about?” She asked as she rummaged through her supplies, taking a small plastic jar with Ibuprofen from it.

“Just a superficial cut on my arm. It’s almost completely healed now, but putting a band-aid on it just in case wouldn’t hurt.”

Flopping herself down next to her baby brother again, medical supplies in hand, Jazz helped Danny out of his t-shirt. When she saw the burns on his shoulder, though, she couldn’t help but wince. “Are you sure you don’t want me to put some bandages on it, Danny? It looks pretty bad…”

The halfa sighed. He knew his sister would fuss over his health; she always did. “It’ll heal, Jazz. It always does.” Then he caught her expression from the corner of his eye. “...but if it’ll make you feel better, I suppose a few bandages just in case don’t so bad.”

Nodding readily, the aqua-eyed woman went to quickly retrieve some of the aforementioned bandages from her kit. Then she proceeded to wrap them around her brother’s left shoulder and pectorals. When Danny sent her a questioning look, she just shrugged and said, “Just in case.”

With his shoulder taken care of, Danny, almost begrudgingly, stretched his arm out to her, letting her inspect his cut. Even though he was right and it was just a flesh wound, it was still important to clean it. Pouring some disinfectant on a bunch of cotton balls, with the help of tweezers she gently dubbed the cotton against his skin, prompting Danny to wince in displeasure.

She rolled her eyes at his childishness, annoyed. “Oh, come on! You literally just faced a ghost huntress, walked around the sewers for who knows how long, and this is something to complain about? Don’t be such a baby!”

“Hey, you have no right to complain about me complaining! You’re not the one who’s routinely going through some kind of medical procedure.” And he’d never want her to go through one; not even a simple check up.

“Whatever,” she said as she put the band-aid on. She dusted her hands off before smiling proudly at him. “All done. Now, go get some rest before it’s time to go and you have to shower.”

Danny pouted. “Do we still have to go? Jazz, I’m injured…” He tried to bargain with his best sad, puppy-dog look.

Jazz wasn’t buying, though. “Should’ve thought about that before you assured me your wounds would heal soon. Come on, Danny, you know I’ve been dying to try this place out and you promised to take me.”

“Can’t you take Tucker with you while I rest, instead?”

“No, because,” she lifted three fingers up, ready to count her options off, “one, he’s not my brother, and I’d like to go with my brother. Two, if you turn your head to my nightstand ever so slightly, you’ll see it’s only 12:30 PM on a Saturday; we’re leaving at sevenーyou’ll have plenty of time to rest. And three...can you really imagine Tucker stepping foot in that sort of place even if I bribed him with $1000?”

Danny visibly deflated at that. “No…”

“Then it’s settled.” Jazz declared. “Go to your room and rest. I’ll tell Mum and Dad you came while they were working on the lab and that you’re tired from an all-nighter of working on an assignment.”

“You’d think they’d be surprised I’m not getting straight A’s with all the times we’ve used the studying excuse on them…” Danny muttered as he left his sister's room.

Standing against the door, Jazz shrugged. “Mum thinks spending so many nights awake studying is actually counter-productive, so…”

Danny chuckled before standing in front of his room’s door. Before going in, however, he called out to her. “Uh, Jazz?”

“Hm?”

“You’re the best.” He smiled at her.

She smiled back. “Anytime, Baby Brother.”

..............

A deafening roar echoed throughout the manor. Her heart pounding, Sam ran as fast as she could along the corridors, barely registering where she was going. She took so many turns around the halls she lost count, all portraits and decorations merging together so it’d look like she was running through the same, never ending hallway. But she didn’t care. All that mattered was getting to the origin of the noise.

When she finally arrived before the gates guarding the bloodcurdling sounds, she skidded to a halt so abruptly she almost gave herself whiplash. Now that she was closer to the source, Sam could also make out the sound of screaming coming from inside the room. And when she noticed just where the roaring and screaming was coming from, her heart all but stopped.

The training room.

The place where the younger members of the clan practiced and perfected their magic. Whatever happened there now had a group of kids trapped!

She had to do something!

But, being the queen and therefore not being able to afford anything happening to her in fear of unleashing a civil war, she’d promised she’d wait for Wilhelmina to arrive, or at the very least, for Paulina and Star to support her.

Anxiously, her eyes kept darting back and forth in all directions, hoping against hope that someone, anyone, would soon come to help. They couldn’t risk their kids’ lives like that. Suddenly, the roars and screams only got louder, accompanied by the sounds of thrashing and the crunching of wood being broken.

Whatever it was that was going on, it was mayhem!

The minutes felt like hours and there was still no sight of her Minister of War or her handmaidens. Fear gripping at her heart, terrified for the sake of the students trapped behind those doors, Sam threw all caution to the wind. Willing her mind to clear so she could establish a proper connection with her anima, the Witch Queen cupped her hands together in front of her chest, taking advantage of the extra dose of adrenaline to fuel her essence. As soon as she felt the familiar pull of power, she opened her now blazing, violet eyes and shouted, “Aries!”

From her open palms a host of purple light began to take form. In the blink of an eye, the spell solidified, shooting forwards to the gates and effectively crushing them by sheer force. As the dust resulting from the impact cleared, allowing Sam to finally see what was going on, all she could do was gasp.

Standing tall and imposing in the middle of the room, surrounded by a group of terrified students who were hiding from it in the furthest corner of the classroom behind a row of desks, a gigantic iguana, the size of that dragon ghost that sometimes haunted the town, roared as it shoved tables out of its wayーtheir now spilled contents cluttered the floor.

When the giant reptile’s eye landed on her, obviously taking notice of the explosion of light, Sam felt her blood run cold. And yet, in spite of the danger, she preferred having the beast targeting her than causing harm to the girls. As the creature threateningly stomped in the direction she was in, the young queen formulated a plan.

If she could just keep the iguana distracted long enough until Wilhelmina came, she could win enough time to allow the kids to escape. But she’d have to tell them her plan as well.

“And I know how.” She mused aloud with a smirk on her face. She was just glad she was currently wearing pants instead of an extravagant dress.

As she waited for the reptile to get closer to her, biding her time, Sam intertwined her fingers save for her indexes and thumbs, which were in contact with each other. Then, just as the iguana’s claw was about to strike, she mimicked the action of a gun shooting with her arms. “Ignis!” She cried out.

From her fingertips she kept shooting energy beams at the monster as she ran in the direction the girls were in. When one of her beams hit the iguana in the eye, causing it to cry out in pain and, most importantly, to be distracted, Sam quickly slid down to behind the remaining desksーwhere the girls were.

“Girls, are you okay?!” She whispered-shouted as soon as she caught sight of them. They were a small group, six girls around the ages of 10-12.

One of them, a brunette with green eyesーViolet, if Sam wasn’t wrongー, spoke up on behalf of her friends. “Your Majesty! Oh, thank Goodness...Yeah, we’re fine. As soon as that thing appeared we ran and hid here.”

The violet-eyed witch sighed in relief. “Thank God. Alright, Violet, right?” The girl nodded, the smile on her face was so wide due to the Queen remembering her name, one would almost forget they were all in danger. “Right. I need you to tell me how this happened. And why are you guys all alone, shouldn’t an adult be with you at all times?”

Lola, a shy girl with black hair and glasses, and a distant relative of Paulina, answered instead. “Uh, well, we-we weren’t alone, your Highness.”

She’d have to tell them some other time that title was for princes and princesses, not queens. But first, saving their lives. “What do you mean, Lola? Who was with you?”

“Wilhelmina.”

“Wilhelmina?!” she repeated, a little too loudly. Wincing at the realisation, she hushed the girls in case the iguana had heard them. Whimpering in fright, the kids got closer to her, and she unconsciously wrapped her arms around them. After a few minutes and no response from the monster, Sam let out the breath she didn’t know she was holding. “Okay. Girls, can you explain to me why Wilhelmina isn’t here? It’s not like her to leave students unsupervised.”

“Class was ending, anyway.” Violet explained. “She said she had something to do and that she trusted us to clean everything up before we left.”

Sam did not like where this was going. “And the giant iguana?”

“We don’t know.” Lola said, then she pointed at one of her friends, a blonde named Tamara. “We were talking about the familiars we’d like to have when we completed our Rite of Passage while we were finishing brewing today’s potion when Tammy said she’d wish to have an iguana. And, boom!”

“Is that true, Tammy?” Sam questioned the girl.

Tammy nodded, tearing up. “Y-yes…I-I said...I-I’d like...a-an iguana and...and then...the p-potion...started b-boiling...and o-out of n-nowhere...that...that monster appeared!” She admitted between cries.

Panicking, both because of the little girl crying and the potential danger of being discovered, Sam scooted closer to her, wiping her tears away with her hands. “Shh, shh! It’s okay, Tammy. It’s not your faultーthese things happen!”

“R-really?”

The queen nodded, smiling reassuringly at her. “Really. This sort of thing happens all the time. You’ll learn what it is soon enough.”

“So I’m not in trouble?”

“No, you’re not.”

Before Sam could so much as blink, the girl threw her arms at her, hugging her. The raven-haired witch stiffened at the contact, not used to dealing with physical affection...or kids. After a minute, though, she relaxed and returned the embrace. Tammy needed comfort at the moment.

“What do we do now, your Majesty?” Violet asked, bringing her queen back to Earth.

“Is that thing going to eat us?” Lola insisted, looking positively spooked.

“No, no. None of that!” Sam assured them, letting go of Tammy. “Because I have a plan.” She motioned with her hands for the girls to get closer to her before continuing. “First of all, don’t worry. Iguanas are herbivores; they don’t eat meat, let alone humans! So listen closely, any minute now Wilhelmina, my ladies-in-waiting, and whoever else they’d called for help will appear through that door. I’ll share my plan with them and while we keep the iguana busy, you’ll run away from here. Understood?”

The group nodded readily. “Good.”

“Your Majesty, where are you?!” A familiar voice called out to her.

Crawling quietly, Sam dedicated one last look at the younger witches. “Remember, don’t move until I tell you to go, got it?”

“Got it.” The six of them said in unison.

With a nod of her own, Sam crawled out of her hiding place before standing up and breaking into a full run to the direction the voice came fromーapparently, it was Susan who’d called out to her, accompanying her mentor. The latter, as well as Star and Paulina, were blocking the reptile’s exit.

“Ignis!” repeating her actions from earlier, she shot another energy beam at the beast, before standing beside her subjects.

“What is that thing!?” Paulina asked, looking completely revolted.

“It’s the result of a spell gone awry.” The Witch Queen answered. “A girl got distracted while brewing a potion and this is the result.”

“What kind of distraction?” Star raised an eyebrow.

“What do you think?” Sam replied as if that was all the answer she needed.

Apparently, it was, because nobody else said a word until Wilhelmina’s hoarse voice broke the silence. “Your Majesty! What are you doing here!? You’re supposed to wait for help to come!”

The Goth couldn’t be bothered to pretend she cared about the protocol right now, especially not after discovering her fellow Council member had left a group of witches in-training completely unsupervised. “Not now, Wilhelmina! The kids are still here; we’ve gotta help them escape!”

“And how are we going to do that?” Star let out, trying to hold down the barrier of fiery, orange energy she’d created to prevent the beast from leaving the training room.

“I have a plan.” Sam turned her attention to the potion-maker in-training. “Susan! Do you have one of your Minisize Me potions on you?”

The Asian teenager reached for her bandolier and grabbed a spherical jar in her hand. “Always, your Majesty!”

“Good! While Star holds the barrier down, Wilhelmina, Paulina, and I will try to restrain our little friend long enough for the girls to escape. As soon as the last girl has left the room, you have to throw the potion at the monster. It’s the only way to take care of it!” She then turned to her lady-in-waiting. “Star, the moment this thing’s all tied up, you let your barrier go so the girls can leave, got it?”

“Yes, my Queen!” Both girls exclaimed in unison, readying themselves.

“Very well. Wilhelmina, Paulina,” she called out to them, “you take care of binding the reptile with me. Wilhelmina, since you’ve got the potions, you take care of its hind legs and tail; Paulina, you tie its left paw down. Ready?” Getting twin nods from her fellow witches, they all charged against the monster.

As Sam and Paulina projected their respective animas in the form of a lasso with a scream of “Conjunctionis ligaveris!”, Wilhelmina used her own essence to propel herself above the beast, landing nimbly behind it. While the young queen and the Latina struggled to keep the reptile in place, their purple and soft pink animas tied tightly around its front paws, the potion-maker rummaged through her trusty bag, looking for her BubbleBomb potion. At the same time as she tried to dodge the animal’s large tail.

Maybe Susan was right and she did need to organise her collection in a pair of twin bandoliers, just like her apprentice.

Just as she was beginning to get frustrated, her finger brushed against a sticky substance. A familiar, sticky substance. Crying out in triumph, she got the jar with the sticky, pink slime from inside of her bag, just in time to be lifted up in the air by the force behind the collision of the iguana’s tail hitting the ground. Using her momentum, Wilhelmina smashed the bottle against the floor, which then exploded in a bubble of pink slime, effectively restraining the giant reptile’s movements.

“Girls, now!” Sam cried out, struggling to keep her focus long enough to keep the iguana down for much longer.

The kids didn’t need to be told twice. As soon as their queen gave the order, they got out from their hiding spot and ran towards the door, where Star was waiting for them. Upon seeing them, she lowered her barrier, exhaling in between pants due to the physical exertion, thus allowing the group of kids to leave the room safe and sound.

Smiling at their retrieving forms, Star cupped a hand around her mouth to call out to the, now, youngest witch in the room. “Susan, it’s all up to you now!”

Determined to not let her queen and mentor down, Susan ran towards the closest wall before leaping in the air feet-first towards it. The moment her feet came into contact with its surface, the teenager propelled herself to rise high above the ginormous beast. As soon as she was within optimal range, she hurled the spherical jar at it, which broke against the iguana’s hard-as-steel scales. In an instant, a cloud of turquoise, twinkling smoke enveloped the beast.

Coughing and clearing the air around her with a wave of her hand, Sam dared look up to the direction the large creature once stood at. To her immense relief, she saw nothing. So willing her magic to deactivate, she walked over to where the, now, normal-sized iguana was.

Smiling, she picked the lizard up. “You gave us quite the scare, right, little guy?”

“What do you intend to do with it, your Majesty?” Susan asked as soon as she nimbly landed on her feet the same way a professional gymnast would.

“Why don’t you keep it? I believe you’ve mentioned Duke Scalynton needed a friend a few times now.” She suggested as she handed the iguana to the potion-maker in-training.

Looking down at the iguana in her hands, she turned to her mentor. “Would that be alright, Ms. Redring?”

“Perfectly so, Susan. Don’t worry.” Wilhelmina assured her, putting a hand on her shoulder. “You did well today.”

Susan smiled brightly at that. Sam, on the contrary, could only frown at her. “Wilhelmina, the kids told me you were supposed to be looking after them, but you left them to clean everything by themselves before classes were officially over.”

The Minister of War remained impassive. “My apologies, your Majesty. I had other matters to attend to that required my immediate attention, and since today’s potion was rather simple, I supposed they’d be fine on their own for a few minutes.”

“So because you had better things to do you completely ignored one of our most important rules and risked the lives of six little girls in the process?” Sam seethed, arms crossed, her eyes blazing a dangerous, dark violet for a second.

Wilhelmina narrowed her own eyes on her. “Careful, your Majesty. I don’t believe you’re in any position to say anything. Seeing as how often you completely disregard protocol; or have you already forgotten that you should have waited for back up before facing off against the threat yourself, hm?”

Sam balled her hands into fists at her sides, knowing, and hating, that she had her there. Turning around to leave the room, she spat. “Just, don’t let it happen again.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it, my Queen.” The brunette let out, almost sinisterly.

Susan was petting her new pet when she noticed a shadow casted over her. Looking up, she almost gasped. “You did well today, girl. Just, do me a favour and keep that thing away from me.” Paulina told her with a smile, keeping a respectable distance between herself and the iguana in the teenager’s arms.

Susan’s mind, other times sharp and focused, was suddenly completely blank. Mouth hanging open and eyes blinking at random intervals, she was sure she was gaping at the beautiful woman before her. “Uh...I...I mean…,” she stammered, “y-you look good, too! I-I mean! You did good, too. Obviously. Ah! Not like you don’t look good, too! You always look good! Just...you know, yeah…” She finished lamely.

Oh, why couldn’t the iguana have eaten her before she spouted all that nonsense?!

“Okay…” The Latina drawled. “Well, I gotta go. See ya.”

“Yeah, see ya…” The teenage girl sighed dreamily, before realising what she was doing and facepalming herself.

Now that they were outside of the training room and accompanying Sam to her quarters, for they had to help her get ready, Paulina eyed her best friend’s knowing grin in distaste. “What?” She snapped.

“Somebody’s got a crush on you!” The blonde teased in a sing-song voice, the shit-eating grin never leaving her face.

But the Latina just huffed. “Please! And who doesn’t? I’ve had my fair share of admirers since we were in ninth grade, Star. Don’t make such a big deal out of it.”

“That may be true,” Star conceded, “but I think this is the first time a younger girl’s crushing on you and you’re actually nice to her. The Pauli from back in Senior year would’ve crushed her dreams in a heartbeat.” She commented offhandedly, ignoring the look of pure horror flashing through their Queen’s face.

The blue-eyed beauty just rolled her eyes. Since she wasn’t used to being on the receiving end, she often forgot how ruthless her best friend could be when she was met with some quality gossip. “I’m not eighteen anymore, Star! And Susan’s a good kid, of course I’m not going to be a bitch to her.”

“So you like her back?” The blonde asked, now feeling apprehensive.

“Are you crazy?!” Paulina snapped at her, turning her face in her direction so fast she almost gave herself whiplash. “First of all, she’s seventeen! I might like to party, but I’d never date a minor.” She sniffed in displeasure. Seriously, what was this girl thinking?!

Her fellow handmaiden sighed in relief. “Thank Goodness, I was actually worried for a second. Just...try letting her down gently, okay?”

“Who do you take me for? Besides, even if she were our age, which, again, she’s not, I just don’t swing that way.”

Star let out a hollow laugh. “Don’t try selling me the ‘I don’t swing that way excuse’, I’ve seen you throw your principles out of the window for the sake of screwing people over. And about letting her down gently, admit it Pauli, you can be a bit of a bitch.”

Sam, not daring to say a word, could only furrow her brow at what her subjects were saying. “What the Hell?”

Ignoring their queen’s silent judgement, Paulina gasped in surprise. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

Rather than backing off given her friend’s reaction, Star only snorted. “Oh, come on. Don’t pretend you don’t remember that one time in ninth grade that you agreed to go to homecoming with a complete loser just so Dash could play a joke on him.” Then, she turned pensive. “Hm, now that I think about it, we never did pull the prank on him...I wonder why.” She muttered to herself.

Paulina’s mouth made an ‘o’ shape at the reminder. “Oooooh, that’s right! Yes, I did totally do that. Such a shame the guy was a total loser; he at least had decent taste in jewelry.”

The two kept chattering away until they noticed their queen’s appalled expression, her jaw hanging low. Giggling sheepishly, Paulina tried to save some face, Star nodding with a forced smile beside her. “That was a long time ago. We’ve grown up, we promise.”

Blinking slowly at them, Sam forced her mouth shut. Doing a dusting-her-hands-off motion, she symbolically separated herself from anything having to do with their high school lives. “Something tells me we wouldn’t have got along growing up.”

“Then isn’t it great we only met outside of high school?” Star offered.

“I think I’d much rather you just talk to me either about things going on inside the manor, or whatever crazy shit you’re up to at college.” The violet-eyed witch insisted as she turned her doorknob to let them in. For that day’s appointment she wanted to spice things up a little, but she still wanted a simple look that matched with her usual self, hence why she needed the girls’ help.

“Oh. My. God!” Paulina exclaimed, raising her palms up as she entered the room. “You will not believe the drama that’s stirring at APU right now!”

Star, who was already seated on one of Sam’s chairs, made a sound of appreciation. “Ooooh! Do tell.”

As Sam went over to her closet and began to randomly pick up different clothes to ask the girl’s opinion onーt-shirts, jeans, skirts, dresses even…ーPaulina went on with her retelling, she and Star sporadically putting a stop on their conversation to give their queen some feedback. “Remember Tiffany? That two-faced, bitchy classmate of mine who’s been totally jealous of me since, like, forever?”

“Tiffany is a rather stereotypically bitchy name.” Sam commented, her focus on two different t-shirts. “As in, high school queen bee, cheerleader captain kind of bitchy.”

“I was a high school queen bee, cheerleader captain, Sam.” Paulina deadpanned.

“Oh!” Sam faulted, biting her lip in embarrassment as she wondered how she’d fix that one. “Well, your name is not stereotypically bitchy...Tiffany is. I mean, how many high school chick flick villains are dumb blondes called Brittany, or Tiffany, or Cassidy…?”

“She does have a point.” Star conceded, propping her elbow against the chair’s back.

With her index and thumb cupping her chin, the Latina ‘hmmed’ in acknowledgement. “Fair enough. Anyway, Sandra told me that Luka told her that Eliza told him that Tiffany’s out to get me ‘cause she’s so jealous it’s ripping her apart.”

As her ladies-in-waiting turned down her latest outfit, Sam arched an eyebrow, not following the conversation. “But didn’t you just say she’s always been jealous of you? What’s new about that?”

“What’s new is that now she’s jealous of me because Brad Carmichael, her ex-boyfriend with whom she broke up because he was dating a girl from Elmerton University behind her backーnot like she’s been a model girlfriend herself, if you know what I meanー, is apparently into me. And she can’t stand it.”

“But are you into Brad?” Star questioned, while Sam was busier wondering how she even managed to keep track of what Paulina was talking about in the first place. She’d already forgotten the guy’s name was Brad, for fuck’s sake! Her best guess was that keeping up with the latest gossip was some sort of ‘popular girl’ superpower.

Paulina let herself flop down on Sam’s bed with a noncommittal sound coming from her throat. “I mean, Brad’s cute, but I’m sort of seeing Matthew at the moment you know?”

“Sort of seeing?” Sam echoed.

“Yeah, he wants us to go steady but, like, I don’t know if I want to tie myself down to anyone right now, you know? I just don’t think I’m ready to be ‘Matthew’s girlfriend.’ But I know that if I tell him that, he’ll think I want to stop going out altogether, when I just don’t want to rush to label what we have. That’s all.”

“Why do you even have to become ‘Matthew’s girlfriend’? Why can’t he be ‘Paulina’s boyfriend’?” For a moment there, Sam worried the feminist inside her had ruined the conversation, if their silence was any indication, until Paulina, almost automatically, moved to a sitting position, looking like she’d just had a spiritual awakening.

“OMG, you’re so right! “ She exclaimed. “If Matthew can’t accept being labeled my boyfriend, then he’s not worthy of my time. Period. Thanks for the advice, Sam.”

“Uh, you’re welcome?” Sam said, feeling unsure. “Now, could you guys please help me get ready? ‘Cause I still don’t know what to wear…”

Both ladies-in-waiting exchanged a glance, before shrugging. Star was the one who voiced their opinion. “The clothes you have in your hands right now are fine. Just combine them with your usual look and you’ve got your casual, yet original, outfit.”

Looking down at the items in hand, Sam had to admit, they really seemed perfect. “Thanks, girls. You two are the best.”

“We know.” They said in unison.

............

The Verde Que te Quiero Verde was the latest rage in vegetarian restaurants. The establishment was owned by a couple of elderly Mexican immigrants who, per their grandson’s suggestion, had given the typical Tex-Mex food a vegan spin.

All websites reviewing the place gave nothing but praise to the meals and service, and about half of the comments recommended asking for their nachos with guacamole and vegan cheese. Its prices were also known for being very reasonable.

‘Lowly’ Mexican food turned vegan and exorbitant-prices free, the kind of place Pamela Manson would rather die than step foot in.

Which was why Sam was so thankful that Saturday night it was just her dad and her, for her mother was busy background checking anyone who wanted to rent the manor for the upcoming Halloween.

Her dad and her were already seated and looking over the menus, but she couldn’t help being distracted by her surroundings. Despite the more modern take, the Verde Que te Quiero Verde resembled the typical Mexican hacienda, with its white-chalk walls, the red tile roofs, its arches… The restaurant was even a two-story building whose second floor, which held even more tables, had balconies offering a nice view of the fountain in the middle of the room and tables surrounding it below.

It was positively lovely.

And yet...Sam couldn’t quite enjoy it as much as she’d like.

She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was definitely off with Wilhelmina. Leaving a group of inexperienced, little girls at their mercy while they performed magic? What was she thinking?! She had no idea how lucky she was, had anything happened to any of the girls and she would’ve been put to trial, leading to losing her position as Council member, at best, or to being expelled from the coven altogether, at worst.

Subconsciously, Sam gripped her menu a little tighter. Wilhelmina was already around when she was a kid and Grandma Ida was still queen. Back then, she remembered, she gave off this strict and stern vibe, even more so than Margaret with her by-the-book nature. But ever since she ascended to the throne, her strictiness had turned into outright arrogance.

Back when she was fourteen and had just volunteered herself as the next queen, Wilhelmina seemed the less willing to give in. She was the quickest to point out her age and inexperience, and Margaret and the, then, newly appointed Delilah miraculously managed to get their fellow member to give her a chance. If just barely.

Even know, after seven years of devout sacrifice in the name of the Amity Park Clan, that frustrating pain in the butt still hadn’t let go of her reservations towards her; often making snide comments that casted doubts on her leadershipーlike the one from earlier…ー, or looking over her shoulder with an air of superiority.

All that, Sam could, begrudgingly, put up with. But putting innocent kids in harm’s way and then having the gall to act all smug on her?! What if Phantom had been right? What if there really were witches up to no good right under her nose? What if…?

“Sammy?” Her dad’s voice cut through her thoughts like a knife cut through butter.

“Huh?” She responded, oh, so eloquently.

“Are you okay? I’ve been calling you for a while now and you haven’t answered until now. Also, it looks like you’ve tried to strangle your menu over some sort of terrible crime…” He pointed at the crumbled piece of paper in her hands to demonstrate his point.

Looking down and noticing the mess she’d made of the poor aforementioned piece of paper, she set it down gently with a sheepish smile on her face, “I’m fine, Dad. Just...thinking.”

“About what?”

“Stuff.” At her dad’s questioning, raised eyebrow she elaborated. “Frustrating stuff.”

“Kiddo, please, enter a literary contest; you’re so eloquent and articulate.” Jeremy deadpanned, setting his own menu down and propping his chin on his intertwined hands.

Sam rolled her eyes, letting out a hollow laugh. “Hilarious, Dad. Aren’t you supposed to be the preppy and optimistic one of the two?”

“I am.” He agreed. “But I’m also a Manson and your Grandma’s son. So you could say snarking runs in the family.”

Parents looking as smug and self-satisfied as her dad did at that moment should be illegal. Crossing her arms with a scowl, Sam slouched on her seat. “Whatever.”

Jeremy just shook his head fondly at his daughter. “You’re lucky your mother isn’t here right now, young lady. Otherwise, she would scold you on your posture.”

The mere mention of her mother made her straighten up, reflexively.

“But now seriously, kiddo. What’s the matter? You know you can talk to your old man about anything.” He offered her an encouraging smile.

Unfortunately, his readiness to be there for her only made her heart sank. No, I can’t, she wanted to say, but instead opted for, “I’m...having trouble with a...with a classmate.” She lied, hating herself for it. “I was elected as team leader, but she’s never quite been able to accept it. Maybe she wanted the position herself, maybe she just doesn’t think I’m good for the job...I don’t know. All I know is that she makes no effort in hiding her displeasure.

“Which, okay. I can take it, I guess. I mean, one more person who doesn’t like me! Boy is that old news...But she’s made a mistake recently and she didn’t even apologise; she just rubbed my own mistakes in my face. And I...I don’t know what to do, Dad.”

Jeremy stayed quiet for a minute, just observing his daughter with a keen eye. Maybe saying he and Sam were close was a little far-fetched; Pamela and, surprisingly enough, his mother had always insisted on signing her up for a million extracurricular activities growing upーironic, when one took the fact that she’d also been homeschooled for most of her life into consideration. But he’d learned long ago to not question it, after all, their Sammy had turned out okay and very capable in the end.

He had to admit, he didn’t always understand her, either. Like her interest in the occult, her love for loud, unsavory bands with questionable taste in names, or her insistence on being identified as a Goth since she was twelve. As a man used to making his wife happy with diamonds the size of strawberries, giving his daughter spiked collars for her birthday left him feeling a little queasy. But, hey, if it made her happy… As long as she didn’t join a cult he was golden.

But there were still moments when even Sam, his strong-willed, independent, confident baby girl, felt vulnerable against the cruel world she lived in. And it was in those moments when he had to take the lead and be the responsible authority figure in the relationship. Moments like now.

Reaching across the table, he rested his hand atop of hers, directing her attention to him. “Sometimes people will try to make our lives difficult, but we mustn’t let that stop us from doing what we think it’s right. So your friend doesn’t think you’re doing a good job leading the team? Then let her think that! If it’s only one person who feels that way, then she’s probably just trying to mess with you.

“But if the other people in your group feel the same way, then maybe you should take a moment to reevaluate things. Don’t be afraid to ask this girl about her opinion. Who knows? Maybe she does have something valuable to contribute.”

Alright, this was all great advice for actual teamwork, but it didn’t apply to her problem. She was trying to rule a coven, not decorate the gym for the upcoming prom. “What are you trying to say, Dad?”

“I just think you shouldn’t take everything on by yourself, Sammy.” He said as he patted her hand, then he leaned back on his chair at the same time as he picked his forgotten menu up. “Now, do you know what you want to eat, or should we wait a few more minutes?”

Sam couldn’t help sending her dad a small smile, even if it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She was about to answer when she caught sight of something over his shoulder that made her breath hitch. “Holy shit!”

Jeremy’s head shot up at that. “Samantha, language!”

Uh, oh. He used her full name. “Uh, sorry about that, Dad.” She apologised sheepishly, before standing up and pointing behind him, much to Jeremy’s horror. What was up with this girl’s manners today!? “It’s just that I know the person who’s just entered the restaurant.”

Turning around much more discreetly than Sam, Jeremy raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “You mean the people talking to the maître d’?”

Completely unaware of the fact that they were the focus of the conversation of two of the restaurant’s patrons, Jazz and Danny stood at the entrance, talking to the maître d’. Well, Jazz was talking to the maître d’, looking almost unhinged, Danny was just praying they wouldn’t be kicked out just because his sister had chosen now, of all times, to act as unreasonable as their dad.

“What do you mean there’s no table available?!” She screeched, causing a few customers to turn around to look at her and her brother to look away in embarrassment. “I made the reservation almost two weeks ago! Fenton, Jazz Fenton. Come on, I highly doubt there’s many more Fentons in Amity Park.”

The man tending to them had to be the most patient person on the planet, Danny figured. Or the most emotionless. “My apologies, Miss. But there really is no reservation under a Jazz Fenton.”

“Maybe you put it under another member of the family?” Danny offered before addressing the headwaiter himself. “How about under Danny Fenton?”

The employee looked through his agenda before shaking his head.

“And Maddie Fenton?” Jazz tried.

Again, the man shook his head no.

“Jack Fenton?” She was starting to grow desperate now.

And, again, no such luck.

Watching as Jazz’s eye started twitching, Danny genuinely feared he’d have to restrain his sister from doing something crazy when the sound of someone clearing their throat caught everyone’s attention. Looking at the direction the sound came from, the Fenton siblings could only gape at the sight of a middle-aged man with perfectly coiffed, blond hair, dark blue eyes, and sharply dressed with a crochet vest, light, khaki pants, and black dress shoes standing before them.

The mysterious man turned to the maître d’. “It’s quite alright, my good sir. They’re with us.”

The emotionless man suddenly developed a personality, for he smiled brightly at the other man. “Oh, I see! Would you like some extra chairs, sir?”

“If you don’t mind.”

“Of course, we’ll bring some extra chairs, utensils, and menus to your table momentarily.” And with that the waiter left them alone.

The blond turned to them, a welcoming smile on his face. “Don’t be shy, you two. Come sit with us.” And, by some sort of spell, they followed after him.

In the meantime, brother and sister shared a questioning glance. They were both obviously curious as to who these ‘us’ were. Clearing his throat, Danny ventured. “Um, excuse me sir, but do we know you?”

The mystery, well-dressed man just laughed cordially. “Oh, no. You certainly don’t. As a matter of fact, I don’t know you, either. But my daughter seems to know you, young man.”

Before Danny could so much as ask what he was even talking about, the man stopped beside a table, motioning with his hand to his companion. The halfa almost fell flat on his butt in astonishment.

Getting up from her chair was Sam. Although she had a different outfit than usual, her style was still mostly casual, as opposed to her companion’s preppy clothes.

She was wearing a simple black t-shirt with a drawing of a purple rose on it (why was it so familiar?); a neon green skirt with a spiderweb pattern; a spiked collar with a purple pendant was around her neck; and she wore fingerless, black fishnet gloves. Other than that she looked the same as always. She still had her trademark combat boots and thigh-length, purple stockings on, and her hair was still long and black on one side, while the other was shaved with purple undertones; a green ponytail in a purple scrunchie sticking up.

“Sam, is that you?” He breathed out.

The girl in question could barely believe her eyes. Right in front of her was Danny. She was almost stunned she could recognise him practically anywhere. But then she rationalised; of course she’d recognise him! He looked practically the same as always! With his messy, jet-black hair falling down his face; a pair of blue jeans, his favourite red sneakers...The only thing different about him was the hoodie he was wearing, really. It was mostly white, except for its red cuffs, zipper, draw strings, and the circle it had plastered on its front.

...well, the only thing that was different was his hoodie and the girl beside him, now that she took a better look.

She was around her height, but she seemed slightly older. She was a redhead sporting a cute pixie cut, with a lovely face and striking, aqua eyes. The girl was wearing a square, teal plaid dress over a white, long-sleeved shirt, and black tights with white boots. Her outfit was perfectly coordinated, except for a brown, leather shoulder bag that seemed oddly out of place.

Sam was sure she had never seen her before, but she was just so familiar…

Noticing she was up and Danny was still waiting for her answer, she hurriedly went over to him to shake his and his companion’s hands. “Yes! Yes, it’s me, Danny. And...I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but you are…?”

“Oh, I’m Jazz!” The mysterious girl perked up. “I’m Danny’s sister.”

“Oh, she’s just his sister,” Sam thought to herself, relieved. Wait, relieved? What did she have to be worried about? She thought best to shake those feelings off and stow them for later. “Nice to meet you. I’m Sam, a friend of Danny’s.”

Jazz’s eyes lit up in recognition. “Oh, so you’re Sam! Danny’s told me about you.”

“He has?” Both Mansons asked, but for completely different reasons. And only one of them knew exactly why they asked.

Just as they were introducing themselves, the restaurant’s staff came and set the two extra chairs and items down. His senses tinglingーonly it wasn’t his Ghost Sense, but a sense of danger he couldn’t quite put his finger onー, Danny focused his attention on the other man at the table, who seemed to be glaring daggers at him, for some reason. He swallowed the uncomfortable lump in his throat. “I’m sorry, sir. But I don’t think we’ve been introduced.”

The blond plastered a smile on his face as they finally sat down. To anyone else, it would’ve seemed friendly, but to Danny it looked oddly sinister. “Oh, my bad. I’m Jeremy, Jeremy Manson. I’m Sam’s father.”

While a primal fear clutched Danny’s heart in an iron grip, Jazz audibly gasped. “Wait, Jeremy Manson? As in, the Mansons?”

His sister’s astonished expression, as well as Sam’s mortified one, enabled him to ignore his sudden worries for a minute in favour of his curiosity. “You know them?” He asked his sister.

In turn, Jazz just scoffed, looking away from him in exasperation. Of course not only would Danny have no idea who he hung out with, he also had to embarrass them right in front of the two people in question. “Danny, I think you’re literally the only person in all of Amity Park who doesn’t know them. Ironically…” Seeing as he still didn’t get the hint, she gave up. “The Mansons are the descendants of Izzy Manson, the inventor of the machine that wraps cellophane around chopsticks, and therefore, they oversee the patent.”

“So, you’re saying…”

Ugh, somebody put her out of her misery, goddamnit! “She’s saying we’re rich, Danny. Very. Stinking. Rich.” Sam deadpanned. Well, there went that little piece of information she didn’t like her friends finding out about. Although, a part of her was about to burst out laughing at the way the boy’s eyes all but popped out of their sockets.

Danny, on his part, didn’t know what was more shocking. The fact that Sam came from a wealthy family, or the fact that she, a cynical, brooding, activism-oriented girl, was related to classy, perky, sunny Jeremy Manson. They literally had nothing in common! Not even facial features! Unless Sam was just a carbon copy of her mother, those were some weird genetics.

Danny’s prolonged silence made her grow anxious, so Sam quickly changed topics. “So...what are you doing here? You know this place serves vegetables, right?” She just hoped their usual teasing dynamics would save them from the awkwardness.

Luckily for her, it did. The halfa countered her teasing tone with an easy grin. “Yeah, I know. But Jazz was really looking forward to coming to this place and, since convincing our fudge-loving father to take her would have been impossible, she played the older sister card on me.”

Jazz just huffed in response. “Oh, shut up. Just be thankful this is a vegan, Mexican restaurant; you’re bound to find something you like.”

“Yeah, I can always just stuff my face on nachos with guacamole.” He quipped back.

The hazel-eyed student turned her focus to the older girl, her face lighting up. “Oh! You’re vegan?”

“Oh, no. I’m not. I’m just much more willing to eat healthy food than my brother, who I still don’t understand how he could’ve grown so much given his atrocious diet!” She finished pointedly.

“Hey!” Danny protested. “My diet’s not ‘atrocious’! So what if I’m not actively looking for vegan restaurants? I still eat everything I need.”

“I once saw you eat nothing but oreos and soda for two weeks when you were sixteen.” His sister pointed out, without missing a beat.

That made him wince, not appreciating the reminder. “Okay, so maybe that wasn’t my best moment. But, the soda gave me the liquids and sugar I needed and the oreos gave me carbohydrates and proteinーmaybe, if they’re baked with milk…”

“Oreos are actually vegan.” Sam pointed out.

Although her comment was meant to annul his point, it seemed to validate it, instead, for he sent a smug look at Jazz. “Ha! You heard that? Turns out I’m healthier than you, Daisy Green.”

“Oh, just shut up.” His sister grunted, exasperated.

The father-daughter duo just exchanged glances, not used to this sort of family interactions. After a beat, Jeremy spoke up. “How about we order, huh?”

Picking up his own menu, Danny’s face morphed itself in confusion. “Uh...I have literally no idea what to ask for. Sam, you’re the expert, what do you recommend?”

By his side, Jazz perked up. “That’s right! You’re vegan aren’t you?”

“Ultra-recyclo-vegetarian.” She corrected, although she wasn’t sure why; nobody ever really got the difference.

And, lo and behold, neither did Jazz. “Pardon?”

Sam was about to tell her to let it go, when Danny beat her to it. “Sam doesn’t just avoid eating anything with a face, she also eats everything on her plate.”

When he sent her a wink and a friendly smile, Sam almost puddled. She soon regained her senses, though. Alright, so it was touching that he retained that piece of information when most people tended to forget all about it, but that still wasn’t grounds to make a fool out of herself. Finally, she opted for pushing those feelings aside. “This is my first time here, too. But as the only experienced veggie-eater at the table, I’d suggest that if you’re not feeling up to experimenting with new things, then just stick to what you’d usually order from a regular Taco Bell.”

She lowered her menu for them to see as she pointed at certain meals. “For example, Danny, you could try ordering the Burrito Vegano. Judging by its ingredients, it's exactly the same as your usual burrito except for the lack of meat. So you shouldn’t miss much.

“If any of you feels more adventurous, then you could try the vegan Quesadillas, just keep in mind that rather than being exactly the same as the regular ones but with vegetables, instead of cheese they have humus.”

“What about snacks?” Jeremy asked, as enthralled in her explanation as their impromptu guests.

“Oh, I’m definitely ordering their famous nachos with guacamole and vegan nacho cheese. Everyone recommends it.”

“What’s vegan nacho cheese even made of?” Danny scrunched his face up in disgust. “Is it even edible?”

Sam scoffed. Typical carnivore response. “Not any less than the barely passable-for-human-consumption, acrylic orange paint that is the usual nacho cheese. And to answer your question, it’s made of carrots and peppers.”

“Wow.” Danny breathed, impressed once again by Sam’s ability to monologue without the need for breath. “You really have a strong opinion on nacho cheese.”

“Oh, you don’t even know half of the things she has a strong opinion on.” Jeremy muttered.

Before Sam could so much as protest at her dad’s familiar exasperation at her altruistic ways, a waiter, notepad and pen in hand, appeared behind her. “Have the ladies and gentlemen made their decision yet?”

Looking over the table and receiving nods in confirmation, the Manson patriarch took the lead. “I believe we have.”

“Excellent.” The waiter said. “What do you want to drink?”

“Well, I’d normally ask for a bottle of your best wine, but I’m driving tonight, so I’ll have a Mr. Pepper.”

“Of course, sir. And everyone else?”

“I’m driving too, so I’ll have a Lemon Nestea, please.” Jazz said.

It was Danny’s turn. “I’m not driving. I’ll have a beer.”

“We serve Coronita, is that alright with you, sir?”

“Yeah, it’s fine.”

Finally, he turned to Sam. “And you, Miss?”

“Another beer’s fine.”

The waiter wrote everything down. “Alright, so that’s a Mr. Pepper, a Lemon Nestea, and two beers; is that right?” At the sounds of agreement, he went on. “Alright. Have you decided on your food yet, or do you need more time?”

It was Sam’s turn to perk up. “We’ll have some nachos with guacamole and vegan cheese to share. I’ll have the Tofu Tacos; You make them yourself once they’re served, right?” The waiter nodded. “Then, yes. The tacos.” Then she pointed at her dad. “And my Dad’ll have the fajitas.”

As their waiter wrote everything down, she directed her attention at the siblings. “And you guys…?”

“Hm, I think I’ll have the vegan quesadillas.” Jazz said. “I gotta admit, when you said they have humus I’d already made up my mind! And you, Danny?”

Danny kept frantically scanning his menu. He didn’t know what half of those things were! All he knew was that it was Mexican food with extra vegetables. “Uh...I...I’ll have the Burrito Vegano?” He just hoped Sam was right and it’d be similar to the regular thing.

“An excellent choice.” The waiter commented before taking their menus away. “Your drinks and nachos will be out shortly.”

After the waiter left, they kept on chattering idly about everything and nothing. How Sam and Danny knew each other, why Jeremy had, completely out of the blue, decided to let them have dinner with them, what their parents’ did for a living… That’s when things got a little awkward. Although Mr. Manson was trying his hardest to remain neutralーSam’s constant glares served as a good incentiveーit was plain to see he didn’t think highly of their parents and their job.

Danny and Jazz would be lying if they said they weren’t already used to it, or even understood his concerns.

Just as their drinks were being served, Mr. Manson’s cell phone started ringing. He took a quick glance at the caller and immediately winced, which didn’t go unnoticed by his daughter. “Dad…? Is everything okay?”

“What? Oh! Oh, yes. Everything’s fine, kiddo. I just have to take this real quick.” He explained as he got up from his chair, about to make his way to a less crowded area of the restaurant. “I’ll be right back.”

“Is he okay?” Jazz asked, slightly concerned.

Sam could only shrug in response. “He says so.” Noticing the sudden rise in tension, she chose to change topics instead. “Um, I don’t really have any siblings to know better but, you two are close, right? I know my fair share of families who wouldn’t spend any non-essential time together otherwise.” Like mine, was what she didn’t say.

“You could say that.” Jazz replied, almost enigmatically.

Normally, Danny wouldn’t go into detail as to why he and Jazz were so closeーthree guesses why and the first two didn’t countーbut there was something about Sam that told him she would understand. Granted, he couldn’t tell her everything, let alone in the middle of a relatively crowded restaurant, but he could shed some light over her queries. He guessed he felt the need to be open and share things with her because the other day she opened up to him and Tucker.

“Well,” he started, “if I’m being honest, I’ve always been closer to my older sister than my parents…”

"How so?" Sam couldn't believe she had the nerve to ask him that when her own relationship with her parents was, most of the time, rocky, at best.

Did she really have to put him on the spot like that? “No, Danny,” he scolded himself, “you wanted to be honest with her yourself. Don’t blame it on her.” Rubbing the back of his neck, he tried to explain as best as he could while revealing as little as possible. “Uh... it's just...my parents are ghosthunters, as you know, so ghosts have always been present in my house, making things incredibly difficult for Jazz and me growing up.” Like eating savage, ecto-wieners for dinner, having every single personal problem compared to some ghost-hunting analogy, or being mortified and ostracised by his peers as a result. “And things...things only got even more complicated when I was a teenager.”

That was the part he couldn’t go in detail about. Mainly because what truly made things more complicated was the fact that all deep conversations, honesty, and family bonds were tattered the moment he became the very half-ghost whose dissection his parents often fantasized about. “As a result, I guess you could say Jazz and I ganged up together. The Fenton siblings against the world when our parents were too busy with their job.” When he felt Jazz’s warm hand on his cold one, he couldn't help but meet her concerned face with a small smile in thanks for everything she’d ever done for him.

A wave of sympathy washed over Sam at Danny and Jazz's predicament. It was easy to forget Amity Park didn't even know ghosts existed until seven years ago, when Phantom and his putrid kind appeared out of the blue, because witches never forgot their existence in the first place. She could understand being overlooked in favour of creatures of dubious existence must've caused them great pain growing up.

Noticing her heartbroken look, Danny immediately tried to lighten up the mood. “Don’t worry, though. We might not be as close to our parents as we were when we were little, but we still all love each other.”

“Yeah,” Jazz assured her, “no need to feel bad for us, Sam. It’s still nice to see a daughter being close to her dad like you two are.” Her words were meant to bring the hazel-eyed Goth comfort, but her brows knitted together in concern at the look on her face.

Albeit Sam was smiling, it didn’t quite reach her eyes. Lowering her head, almost hiding her face from view, she shook it, sadly.

After a minute or two of silence Danny was about to ask her if she was alright when she spoke. “Don’t let appearances fool you; my Dad and I aren’t exactly close, either.”

“But...but you two seem to get along so well…” Jazz started, but was cut off by Sam.

“We get along,” she confirmed, “but we’ve never been close. My parents are the complete opposite of me, and it showsーthey’ve never been able to understand me, my Grandma did.”

Danny almost regretted having to ask. “Is your Grandma…?”

The Goth just nodded. “She passed away when I was fourteen. She was the only person to ever understand me and accept me for who I am. You could say I’ve been on my own ever since, although in a psychological/spiritual sense.”

“Is that the reason why you’re Goth?” Jazz couldn’t hold herself back from asking, her psychologist instincts taking the reins of the situation. Shocked at her behaviour, Danny kicked her gently on her shin from under the table.

He ignored her glare in favour of distracting Sam from her question. “What about your mother, aren’t you two close?”

The harsh laugh she let out startled them both. “I might not be close to my Dad, but compared to my relationship with my mother, I’m practically a daddy’s girl.”

A shadow casted over her hazel eyes, other times so full of fire and mischief, and Danny didn’t like it one bit. Reaching over to grab her hand in his, making her gasp in surprise, he sent her a gentle smile. “Thank you for sharing that about yourself with us.”

She returned the smile. “Thank you for sharing that about your parents with me.”

They kept staring into each other’s eyes, not caring about anything around them, until the clatter of the nacho plate being set down on their table broke them out of their thoughts. While Danny chose to ignore her sister’s annoying smirk, Sam thanked the waiter. Then, she turned to the siblings. “Well? What are you waiting for? Dig in!”

They did as they were told, and their faces split in matching grins. Hmming in appreciation, the black-haired half-ghost dipped another tortilla chip into the vegan cheese. “This ain’t half bad!”

Sam just chuckled. “Told you.”

After a, surprisingly, rather pleasant dinner between the two different families, it was time to say goodbye. Since they were the ones driving them home, Jazz and Mr. Manson left first to look for their respective cars, leaving Danny and Sam some extra time to talk.

“Well, that was a pleasant surprise.” Danny commented, putting his hands inside his hoodie’s pocket.

“Yeah, it really was.” Sam smiled when, suddenly, a cold breeze whooshed by, making her shiver.

Noticing her hugging herself from the corner of his eyes, he immediately took action. “Here, let me help. It’s starting to get cold.” He said, even when his cryokinesis made him immune to cold years ago.

“Danny, I’m fineー” she began, but was interrupted by Danny slipping his hoodie on over her shoulders. As he lent her his jacket, their eyes locked. For a moment, time stopped. The Earth stopped moving. Nothing else mattered but each other’s eyes; Danny’s precious baby blue, and Sam’s vibrant hazel. Then, the sound of a not-so-distant honk broke the spell, causing them to quickly avert their eyes, a hint of pink dusting their cheeks.

Sam wasn’t cold anymore.

As Jazz opened the door for Danny, he waved her goodbye, which Sam returned. Now that she was alone with her thoughtsーand Danny’s hoodieーwaiting for her Dad to appear with his own car, she couldn’t stop herself from sniffing the garment. It smelled like wood and freshly rained soil, but there was something else. Something...familiar she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

Whatever it was, she liked it.

It smelled like Danny.

#Danny Phantom #DP #dp fanfic #your heart #my fic #danny fenton #sam manson #valerie gray #jazz fenton #jeremy manson #paulina sanchez #dp star #oc #ghost king! danny #ghost king au #witch queen! sam #witch queen au #enemies to friends to lovers

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abbystanaccount · 4 years ago

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Owen’s Aquarium Analysis

I was thinking about the various aspects of Owen’s Aquarium when it’s at its peak, during the Winter visit, and I just wanted to talk about it, throw some of my thoughts and interpretations out there.

This is where Owen has frequented for the past three years whenever he wanted to get away from the WLF. Abby has maybe been there a few times since their first discovery, but she hasn’t been in a long time. Personally I LOVE the way Owen reacts when he first sees her at the door. He’s very surprised, she asks him a question and it takes a second to answer because he’s busy thinking of how happy he is that she showed up at his home, the place he’s found solace in for the past few years.

The Aquarium is basically representative of Owen’s mind and his headspace. Owen’s in a pretty good spot when Abby comes to visit him in this flashback. He has games set up, he’s completely cleaned up the Aquarium trying to making it homey. But the fantastical set up is also a bit of a façade, Owen still has some issues with where he is in the world. His relationship with Mel is good (she can be really sweet sometimes), but Owen is hesitant to talk about Mel because whenever Abby is here, that’s all he can really focus on. When Abby gets there, all he wants to do now is hang out with her because he missed her. They’re playful, bantering, flirting a little, giving each other a hard time, it’s the Abby/Owen way 😌. He has a “selective memory”, and this Aquarium has many of his good memories.

The hooch. In this flashback and the present we see Owen drinking his homemade hooch, here it’s in celebration that Abby came to visit, later it’s because he’d drowning his sorrows. The fact that he makes his own alcohol, has a beer pong table, and can stand the taste of the hooch while Abby can’t, points to him drinking at least somewhat frequently.

I’d also like to equate the hooch to his dreams of sailing away from it all and finding the Fireflies again. Owen has been making his own hooch and has also been trying to convince the other Salt Lake Crew that they should all look into the leads about the Fireflies. Up at the cafe when he offers Abby some, he enjoys it and he invites her to stay and see the view, Abby rejects both things like she did his notion of finding the Fireflies. Later on the boat he is consumed in his idea to leave and find the Fireflies (parallel to his drinking), then when he offers Abby some and to come sail away she declines.

Owen’s mural... he adds to Max’s mural and creates Salt Lake City on the wall, you can see the zebra’s and giraffe’s from Abby and Ellie’s memories in the foreground. The zebra memory and being in St Mary’s with Abby before Joel arrived were the last real happy memories they had, the last time they were still innocent and carefree. Owen memorializes these happy times through his art and puts it in a place he can look at frequently.

Abby also has a similar landscape painting she took from her dad’s office, it might also but of Salt Lake City, so she much like Owen kept those memories close. However I don’t know if Owen painted this one too, might be a little weird to paint your supervisor and secret gf’s dad a painting, idk. 🤷‍♀️

In relation to the Aquarium being like Owen’s mind, Owen projects to the world he’s happy with Mel, he tries to not think about Abby and get hung up on her, but because she still exists, she’s still around, that’s very hard for him. He is hesitant to write Abby on the board even though he says Mel won’t care, he knows that Mel will a bit, because it’s announcing that Abby was here. I feel like it had often been a discussion between Owen and Mel whether or not Owen was over Abby and Owen tried to convince her and himself he was, but it’s really not true.

Owen is a really sweet and creative person, he’d much rather be chilling in his Aquarium, getting it nice, or painting a mural or sketching (like his drawing of Abby). He warms up the entire place, except for maybe the hole in the roof he thinks it too much work to finish. That’s probably very true, he is only one guy, but even besides the hole Owen shows an intense dedication to making the place fun, he lugged over party supplies seemingly by himself.

Owen also doesn’t let anyone really know about the Aquarium. Manny only knew at the end because Abby told him, and Nora only knew from Manny. So for years it was just Owen’s thing. He offers to let Abby come “if she’s nice to him,’ he does want to share with her. It’s open to interpretation that maybe she never returned until this point because of her “skeleton” comment but I don’t like that so I like to think she did come back at least a few times, maybe it was less cleaned up though. It seems like since they broke up though, Owen has dedicated time to improving his Aquarium and starting anew. Once Owen starts dating Mel he eventually shows her the Aquarium and he hopes she’ll embrace it more than Abby did, which she does.

Their relationship became draining because of Abby’s revenge mission, and after they break up they both dedicate themselves to new things, Abby really ramps up her training and Scar killing, Owen tries to build a relationship with Mel and transform his Aquarium into something he can enjoy and live it. The issue there is Abby’s mission is just digging her deeper into a hole, and Owen can’t move on with Mel when Abby exists and he’s still in love and hung up on her.

This shot is pretty obvious, Abby is right in front of the Mel stocking, blocking it out. In another timeline where she wasn’t so caught up with Joel, it would have been her stocking there instead of Mel’s, Owen would have decorated the Aquarium for her and not Mel, and I think she sees that here. She’s even facing the Ferris wheel where they first ran away to. Owen is looking at this entire scene, and he can see it as well, it’s a gut punch to him that these are the circumstances.

Owen still wants Abby to move on, he was overjoyed to have her visit him, play his archery game, just chat. It’s a rude awakening when he finds out she was there to just tell him that they’d found a lead on Joel, and that she’d already told the rest of the Crew including Mel about it. He’s feeling a bit betrayed by Abby here and pressured to join them. Owen wants what Abby wants, but he already sees how much pain its caused her and he doesn’t want more people than necessary getting hurt. But everyone else already said they would go and at one point or another he promised Abby they were in this together, and he’d never go back on his word for her.

I just want to touch on the state of the Aquariums when we see it, when we first see the Aquarium it’s not really Owen’s yet, it’s been abandoned and he had yet to put his work into it. Then three years later, it’s full his and representative of who he is. We see it after Jackson too, but it’s much more subdued and dreary because he’s been suffering mentally. If you focus on Owen during the Joel torture scenes you can really see how shook he was seeing Abby shoot Joel’s leg off, and he had to leave the room with Mel while she tortured Joel. Owen blames himself for not stopping her on this revenge quest, she’s finally doing it and it’s horrible to watch.

Afterwards, Owen has retreated from others completely. The others are pissed at him when he disagreed about letting Ellie and Tommy go. How Abby behaved scared him. He doesn’t even want the new life with Mel, he just wants out of here by himself, everything else is too painful. When he shoots Danny, Owen realizes leaving is his only option is to go because he can’t stand to be in the WLF anymore. Owen wants to go back to a time when he was happy and working towards a real cause: the Fireflies. He still faces major hurdles though, the boat is broken and the WLF are going to come after him. Abby finds him curled up, retreated as far as he can go into his safe place. Waiting for someone to come and kill him for what he did.

Then last time we go to the Aquarium, it is completely silent, eerie, and dead, Owen’s dreams of escaping to a better, happier life, shattered.

Sorry to end it on depression but that’s how it is 💔 except in happier au’s like mine lol.

Also side note, Abby saying “of course” when she sees the boat light on and not assuming he’s in the cafe or something, makes me think they returned there together at some point and more spent time there. So maybe that’s a less sad note.

#meta #analysis #Owen Moore #abby x owen #owen

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hitsuackerman · 4 years ago

Text

Unpredictable (Overhaul x Reader) pt. 1

a/n: I have been struggling with writer’s block because all I’ve been wanting to do was write about garbage man Overhaul. I have no idea how or when my simping for this man began T.T that being said, the words came flowing out when I started this XD

warnings: cursing, subtle flirting, nothing much happens since its only part 1

links: part 2

Masterlist to my other fics: here :)

It was a rather fine Monday afternoon. Lazily drinking your coffee, you waved to the people who knew who you were. You weren’t part of the top ten heroes, no. Not even in the top 100 poll. Instead, with a quirk like yours, you chose to enter the police force. With a bit of training here and there, you mastered everything there was to and still managed to develop your quirk every two missions or so.

Now, you were sitting by the window. Waiting for your partner to arrive. He had called you in for a rather hasty meet up somewhere far from the precinct. With no details given, anything was possible when it came to Tsukauchi and his brain.

A blur of tan and green caught your eye. Turning to face the no longer vacant chair, you observed as he took off his matching hat and fixed his tie. His rectangular eyes greet you with sincerity but hints of anxiety at the same time. Something was about to happen, it was plain obvious.

“Well, good afternoon to you, Nao.” You gave him a cheers of your coffee before taking another sip. The bitterness of your beverage is ever so relaxing. “What can I do for my partner, hm?”

“You read me too well, (Y/N).” He chuckled. Taking a folder from his messenger bag, he placed it on the table and gave you permission to open it. The way he saw your eyebrows furrow only strengthened his hypothesis. “I can explain.”

“You bet your ass you need to explain.” You leaned on your chair. Heart racing a little faster now. Your eyes darting from the detective before you and the streets outside the window. Index finger tapping on your bicep as your arms instinctively crossed on your chest.

“I know this is familiar territory to you and I am sure that you are very much uncomfortable right now,” He began. The little shift in your seat caused guilt to eat him a bit. Seeing your eyes moving from one item to another made him question if this were the right choice. “But with considerable thought, you’re the only one who has a chance in turning this situation for the better.”

“Nao, I get where you’re going but there’s no way in hell I’m going to do that.”

“This mission is only up for 9 months. If you step down then someone else will take your place. With you being tied to the yakuza, the probability of having the time frame cut short is high.”

Ahh. The background-trump card. Of course the chief of police wanted to pull that off.

Before having entered the police force, you had been somewhat a part of the Abegawa Tenchu Kai group. Though the group had been put to an end, they had successfully managed to hide your father in a hidden pathway that none of the police had managed to find.

From there, he had slowly rebuilt it. Still enforcing the way of the yakuza, your father slowly came to realize just how little there was left of the yakuza. Secretly, he began to create ties with the police to ensure a bit of political immunity for his group. By the time you were born, things took a turn and the small organized crimes came to a halt.

When you gave him the news that you were joining the police force, he had let out a hearty laugh that echoed through the halls. Telling you it was ironic and certainly unexpected, he told you of the difficulties you would face but encouraged you the same.

“I know I’m tied up with them but having to fight another one would be difficult. You’re all too aware that the yakuza are a strongly knit group after they were disbanded one by one. Though I’m aware that the group mentioned is trying to take the lead, I would rather not be intertwined in a mess like this.” Your answer was stern but the look your partner gave you made things inconvenient. “Do not give me that look, Tsukauchi.”

“You won’t be alone in this. The plan is for you to talk to the Shie Hassaikai and use them as support for this one.”

“Lmao, what?” You held up your palm and shook your head with amusement. There was no way in hell you were about to create a bond with them. “D’you just hear yourself, Nao? Those people are whack and some are a lost cause already.”

“Overhaul is the current boss. Perhaps you can set a meeting with him and talk.” The way Overhaul came out of his mouth made him want to puke. It was a vile word, even for him. Yet, desperate times call for desperate measures. If low key teaming up with the Shie Hassaikai would put an end to the growing crimes the other group was causing, then so be it. “Just tell him that you won’t dig into his business.”

“You’re putting me in the hands of someone who could obliterate me in a matter of seconds.” You commented. Dragging the folder off the table, you tucked it into your bag and gulped the remaining amount of coffee. It’s taste now bland to you. “Wish me luck. I’m gonna be needing a lot of it.”

“I owe you a lot, (Y/N).” Tsukauchi thanked you while taking his coat and putting it on. Leading the way towards the exit, he opened the door for you and motioned for you to exit first. “Also, be aware that only a select group of people know about this arrangement.”

Rolling your eyes, you scoffed and waved goodbye.

Walking down the streets, your thoughts began to eat you up. If there was one thing your old man taught you, it was that the Shie Hassaikai had something going on beneath them. Of course, your father never gave any information as to what they did. All you could do was to respect his decision. He was still a yakuza after all. And despite what the people might think, the way of the yakuza wasn’t all that bad. At least when it came to morals of brotherhood, of course.

The screeching of tires caught your attention. A white carrier van came speeding through the road and took a rather sharp turn. It was probably 4 blocks from where you stood. You were off duty but still, trouble waits for no one. Cautiously, you jogged towards the location.

Not soon after, a small scale explosion made you wince. By now, you were running and saw the distressed people exiting the corner as a pillar of smoke started to climb towards the skies. Moving at fast speeds, you ended up bumping with a stranger with a black and gray mask on. His layered blue unbuttoned polo exposing his matching shirt. “Sorry, mister!” You apologized before turning around the corner. The look on his face was a little confused. You couldn’t blame him. Confusion was always part of the recipe of disaster.

You stopped running when you were met with dismembered and morphed bodies of the supposed to be criminals. Standing in front of you were 3 people. One with a large build, one who was slim but wore a hood, and the other with auburn hair. His dark green bomber jacket stood out due to the purple fur around the hood.

He seemed to be busy monologuing knowing he hasn’t killed you yet.

“And who might you be?” The voice seemed to be coming from above.

Not wanting to lose your sights on him, you watched as he turned around and faced you. His magenta bird mask on full display. His eyes still marked with the rage he had just let out a few moments ago. His golden eyes dug deep to your soul. It was scary to say the least.

Your heartbeat raced and your thoughts tried to come up with a logical explanation as to why you did not run away. When Overhaul took a step forward, you held your breath and opened your mouth.

“I’ve been meaning to talk with you, Overhaul.” Your eyes followed as his surgical covered hands began to adjust his mask. The twitch in his eye bringing you one step closer to death. “I’m from the Abegawa Tenchu Kai.”

It was amazing to you. How you casually stated you were part of another group. Feeling the air shift around you, the person who had asked as to who you were was now standing beside you. The beak of his mask a mere inches from your face. You wanted to glare at him, but the real threat here was the one right in front of you.

“It’s not safe to talk here. The police are coming and it’s pretty obvious you don’t want any more dirt on your hands, yes?” You began to walk backwards and motioned for them to follow you. They could follow you or they could just brush it aside and move along with whatever business they had in mind.

When the same person who had been beside you just now talked to Overhaul, it was now clear who he was. Chronostasis. One of his indisposable pawns. You’ve heard of the stories surrounding these two.

“You have approximately 5 minutes to decide before they arrive.” You informed them. “I’ll wait in the corner in case you want to hear what I have to say.”

When a minute had passed, you were now face to face with the leader of the Shie Hassaikai and his companion. He probably let the rest go on ahead. Good. At least he was curious as to what in the world a random person would want them for.

“Speak before he changes his mind.” Chrono threatened you.

Unwavered by that, you began to walk. Thankfully, the sidewalk didn’t have that many people.

“I need your help. The Fukuo Kai group have been getting restless.” If they were still updated with the inside news, you hoped you wouldn’t have to explain the details. It was too tiring and time was of the essence.

“Who exactly are you, woman?” This time you heard his voice. It was oddly intoxicating. He was careful but made sure not to show it.

“I’m sure you can do a background check on me. I have no way in stopping you, I’m all too aware.” Rummaging through your bag, you took out a pen and paper. Jotting your number down, you handed it to Chrono. If the stories were right, he would freak out if you were to touch him. “If you want to talk about this more in your office, feel free to hit me up. But, no to kidnapping. It’s tiresome.”

Overhaul just stared at you. Calculating what to do next. Or how this would benefit him. Yes, he would surely ask some of his men to follow you around but with you being tied with the Abegawa Tenchu Kai, it was almost certain that you had henchmen following you around. Looking over at his masked companion, Chrono immediately understood that a background check would be done the moment they would step into the grounds.

“2 days. If no call, I’ll move on to the next people on my list.” You gave them a quick bow. There was no need to but he was who he was. The rumors being spread about him and his plans were most probably true. He at least deserved a half ass bow from you.

Knowing it was more than enough contact, you turned to the next corner and made your way back home. All too aware that the possibility of being followed was all too high. There were two ways you could go, you could go to your apartment or go home. None of that surely mattered with who he was and what he was capable of. Letting out a sigh, you went with the former.

By the time you arrived in your unit, you flopped on your sofa and threw your bag to the coffee table. Sinking further and further down, you flailed for a few seconds before composing yourself. Leaning towards your bag, you took out your phone and began to dial up a number.

“What can I do for you, (N/N)-chan?” The voice over the phone said.

“Is dad busy?”

“The boss is currently out of office. He’ll be back in a few hours. He shifted in his seat and felt a tad antsy. “Is something wrong?”

“Nah. Just miss the old man.” Giving him a chuckle, you sat straight up and pulled your bag closer towards you. Shuffling through the mess as you took the folder out. Placing it on your table, your eyes began to wander and skim through the pages. “Anyway, I gotta go. Tell him to call me back.”

When he gave his reply, the call ended and you immediately began to read the information more closely.

Hours had now passed and you ended up crashing on the couch. By the time you woke up, the room was now dark save for the city lights illuminating the walls softly. Stretching your limbs, you stood up and turned the lights on. It was painfully blinding but you adjusted quick enough.

Checking your phone for any messages, you tossed it back on the couch and grunted. Zero. Nada. Zilch.

With nothing else to do, you decided to get started with dinner.

Pasta and wine. That’s what you craved for. Not sure why but all the contents were now laid out before you. Preparation time would take around 30. Nothing too long or too fast, just right. Starting the labor, you began to heat up water in a pot and began to prepare the sauce.

Moving in a trance, the sound of your phone ringing caused you to jump. Wiping your hands clean with a tissue, you jogged towards the living room and stared at the unknown number.

‘Shit.’ You mentally prepared yourself. “(L/N) speaking.”

“I have been thinking about your offer.” He said over the phone. His voice a little muffled due to his bird mask, at least you presumed. “However, I would prefer if we talk about this in person. I would hate it if your phone was bugged and such.”

“What time are you free?”

“2 in the afternoon. I am aware that you know where we are located.” He replied. A tiny voice seemed to be yapping about in the background. The small voice seemed to stop and Overhaul continued. “If you’re late, then you’ll have to go through your list of people.”

Before you could respond, he ended the call. For someone who was rumored to be antisocial, he sure had a knack of being sarcasm. Who were you kidding, that wasn’t sarcasm.

Walking back to your kitchen, your mind was out of it as you continued making dinner. Your foot began tapping your tiled floor. What would happen tomorrow? Sure, you knew where they were situated but to be inside their headquarters? A chill ran down your spine.

In the task force, you were one of the people who were experts on reading people. Yet, the Shie Hassaikai leader was one person you would rather not read into. Sociopaths were usually textbook people but for someone who was whispered to be an antisocial sociopath? Your mind couldn’t comprehend what goes through his head.

Safe to say that you did not enjoy your dinner.

Time was now moving fast. In the blink of an eye, you found yourself at the gates of their headquarters. Last night, you fell into such a deep sleep that you barely had enough time to dream. With only another cup of coffee to keep you going, you knocked on the wooden gates and waited for entry.

The gates opened slightly. You were met with a random thug who didn’t wear a mask. He was wearing plain simple clothes but the look on his face told you he was definitely not happy to see you.

“I have some business with Overhaul.” You said plainly.

“Oh so you’re that woman.” Opening the gates a little wider, he watched as you entered. “Follow me, missy.”

The headquarter’s building was designed similar to your home. Traditional Japanese interior when you made your way through the front door. The tatami mats lined on the floor while the shoji screens littered every few steps.

The walking stopped and you were now face to face with Chrono. His mask present and his hood kept his hair hidden. The man who led you quickly bowed and left without looking back.

“Not the traditional meeting room?” You tried to joke. Met with only silence, you told him you were ready and he began to walk down the dimly lit path. Tailing behind him, you took note of the turns you had to take. For a while, it began to confuse you and realized that the sole purpose was for that.

It went on for quite some time before the halls were now lit properly and a double door was now facing you.

“Do I knock? Or do I just barge in?” You turned to be face to face with Chrono. A smirk landed on your face when he let out an unamused sigh. Before you knew it, he leaned and opened the doors for you.

Making your way inside, the decor of the room was nothing much. Two sofas parallel to each other with a table situated in the middle. A banner of their insignia hung proudly on the wall. Sitting on one of the couches was the reason why you were even down here.

Without his obnoxious bomber jacket, you had to admit that Overhaul looked pretty damn fine. Clean and proper. Taking a seat on the empty sofa, you leaned on to the back and shrugged your shoulders.

“Well, what do you wanna talk about?” You decided to start the conversation. In a way, it calmed your senses since the silence was deafening.

“What do I get in return?” His elbows rested on his knees. Tilting his head a little bit, he squinted his eyes ever so slightly. The horrible lighting of the room somehow made the golden trimming of his mask shine.

“You get to take their rank. You’re aware that the Fukoa Kai are pretty up there and surely you would love to have additional men behind your back.”

“And why would a police officer like you want to ask help from people like us? That’s a bit ironic now isn’t it?” Not a single movement save for his occasional blinking. “I’ve heard stuff about your lot. And it would definitely make things a whole lot easier. Besides, the chief of police saw it amusing by using me as a bridge. You’ve done your background check I presume?”

“(L/N). Daughter of the man who reestablished the Abegawa Tenchu Kai group from the dirt. Top ranking police officer despite having been born with the yakuza way.” He began to relay out. “Political immunity granted due to the old man pulling a few strings and helping the force every now and then. Such a shame his goal was patterned like that .”

Years of hearing that, you were now immune to those choice of words.

“If it calms your clammy hands,” You retorted. His eyebrows jumped a bit at how you raised your voice. “Only a few select people know about this. We plan to keep this on the low hence me meeting you. You won’t be meeting any of them, save for maybe one. But other than that, this would surely benefit you more than it would for us.”

“Tell me, (L/N).” He was now leaning on the back of the sofa. His head craned back to rest as well. You couldn’t help but wonder how heavy that mask was. Or what he was hiding underneath it. “Do you play shogi?”

Not expecting the question, you couldn’t help but giggle ever so slightly. Making sure that your hand partly covered the smile you were holding in. Tucking in a loose strand of hair, you lifted your chin and responded.

“I do but I’m not the best at it.”

“If I am satisfied with how you play, then we will commence whatever plan you have in your head.” He motioned for Chrono to get the board. “But, should I win, you have to add a few more privileges for my participation.”

“I’ll have to…” You had to cut yourself. Coming to a conclusion that your chief would surely decline it, you would just have to face the consequences of it later. “Sure.”

Watching as his companion laid out the board, you took the opportunity to observe what you could with the man sitting in front of you. His shoulders were broad and his face smooth. His eyebrows were quite unique as well. His lower lashes were eye catching, no doubt. Though his eyes were the money shot though. The dim lighting did no justice to the golden hues he were gifted with.

When his eyes met yours, he raised an eyebrow. You raised one as well. Furrowing his brows, you merely blinked lazily. Squinting your eyes, they slowly traveled down to his shoulders. Realizing that you were clearly checking him out, you jolted your sight once more and met his. The staring game was always fun for you knowing you don’t chicken out. When Overhaul finally broke connection, he gave you the liberty of ushering the first move.

The only sound that now echoed the room was the sound of your pieces being put into place. It was a rather intense game. For a while, he had managed to snag some of your powerful pieces but you managed to turn the table around by taking his as well. Chrono stared intently at the game. Seeing how his boss was now playing with his hundred percent was something he had not seen in a while. Looking at you, you were unfazed by the pressure of playing with the boss.

Little did they know that behind your poker face, you were panicking. The moves left were slowly depleting and you could only go on for a few more minutes. It was too obvious he was enjoying this. Deciding to play on defense, you picked up a tile and placed it where you intended it to be.

This exchange of moves went for a few more minutes before you finally saw the opportunity to grab his king. By now both of you had practically an equal amount of each other's soldiers. Though it would require you to sacrifice three pawns, the feeling for victory would probably be within reach in 5 moves.

5 moves later, you finally leaned back on the sofa. That had been one of the longest games of shogi you had ever played. Mentally, you were drained and hungry. The effects of the coffee had worn down 16 moves ago and you wanted to stuff down a hearty burger before you head to the precinct.

“When will the operation start?” Overhaul asked as he still stared at the board. Processing how he had just lost. Yet, he had to admit that your final moves were brilliant.

“I’ll give you a call.” You tossed the piece and he caught it with ease. His eyesight never tore from yours as he placed it back on the board. “But, I am in a rather good mood. The only add on I can give to you is that no snooping around will happen. Whatever it is you have planned in this maze of an office you have, I’ll have nothing to do with it. I’m here for one purpose and one purpose only.”

“Then so be it.” He accepted the offer. “If there’s nothing else-”

“How heavy is your mask?” You blurted out.

Both men in the room were rather speechless at the sudden question. Even you were surprised. That had simply been a thought but your mouth seemed to move faster than your brain could comprehend. Perhaps it was the hunger taking over.

“You don’t have to answer that.” You looked away and stared at their banner. Shame and embarrassment creeping into you. “But, yeah. There’s all there is to it.”

Once again, you were back to the winding halls. You didn’t bother memorizing the area knowing full well you were bound to go back. When the traditional walls were within sight once again, all you could think of was the exit and the nearest hamburg shop.

“What’s your quirk?” Chrono suddenly asked.

“Thought you’d already know by now.” You replied.

“It was marked as classified information no matter how deep we dived into the systems. Did you pay for the secrecy?”

“Nope. Well, maybe.” You were now facing the entrance. Chrono was still waiting for an answer. “I’ll tell you when the time comes. But, it has something to do with health. So if it makes your boss any less worried about the germs I carry, I’m clean.”

Waving a farewell, you walked and exited yourself away from the building.

Taking your phone out, you searched for the nearest hamburg store and began to walk your way. It was only a few blocks away so it wouldn’t hurt to exercise your legs. Glancing at the time, you were shocked that 2 hours had passed in that meeting. It felt too fast but perhaps it was the shogi that took up most of the time.

Realizing that you had to send updates to your partner, you searched for his contact and hit dial. He answered after the second ring.

“Yes, (Y/N)?” The typing of his keyboard was evident and you recalled just how many other cases he had under his care.

“It’s a done deal. But, I had to cave in with his one demand.” Letting him digest what you had just shared, you heard the creak of his office chair. A sigh followed after. “We are not to meddle with his affairs. One purpose and that’s it.”

“Well, at least it’s not much. And another team is currently doing that as well. Still, as expected from my partner.” He praised you. “How’d you do it?”

“I beat him at a game of shogi.” You couldn’t help but smirk at the memory of him realizing he was in too deep to pull himself out of the corner. “Anyway, I’ll be eating lunch. Want me to bring you something?”

“Daifuku will do.”

“Got it.”

Ending the call, you scrolled down through your contacts once more. Hitting up the dial button, you finally arrived at the food chain. The ringing still killing your ears. When the waitress handed you the menu, you were put into voicemail.

“Gei. Pick me up when you get this.” Placing your phone on the table, you called the waitress and told her your order. It would take 15 minutes for your food to arrive and that meant you had 15 minutes to dig around what you could about Overhaul.

Scrolling through news articles, there wasn’t a lot of coverage about him. As expected from a young yakuza member. How old was he anyway? Remembering how you asked him about his mask, you face palmed and scolded yourself.

The screen changed and Gei was calling you. A smile found its way to your lips. “Whattup girrrl?!” Your friend greeted you. His voice pitchy as always and you were positive he was moving his head with every word.

“Just finished a meeting with someone and was wondering if you wanted to crash by my place tonight?”

“Say no more boo. Imma bring some chips, a tub of ice cream, and the glorious wine!” His happiness was contagious. With such a tension filled job, it was a miracle Gei and you became friends. “What’s the occasion baby girl?”

“Uh, just the usual.”

“Ooh~ Is this a red wine situation or a moscato problem?”

What kind of problem was it anyway? If you replied red, it would mean work trouble. If you went with moscato, it would be a mix of work and relationships.

“I guess both?”

“Well! Lemme take my purse and rush to the convenience store! You better spill the beans (N/N).”

“I will~” You said farewell and he made sure to send kisses over the phone. Ever so flamboyant, your friend was. Yet, despite his personality, you knew that Gei would always be there for you no matter what. Of course, with him being your loud best friend, it was a given that you would do anything for him as well.

Your food was now served and you downed it in just 10 minutes. A new record, if you said so yourself. Wrapping things up, you took the daifuku and went your way towards the precinct. Wishing you had taken your car, you called for a taxi and took a quick nap.

#overhaul x reader #chisaki kai x reader #overhaul #bnha overhaul #bnha chisaki kai #mha overhaul #mha chisaki kai #shie hassaikai #overhaul is garbage but i cant help but adore this man #this is the reason why my one shots are delayed #aaaaahhhhhhhhh

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