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gayashelljatp · 3 months ago

Text

Prince Charming x James Hook | Trophy Boy ChapteR

Tags :Sorta Enemies to Lovers Fake/Pretend Relationship Not Canon Compliant, Inspired by Cinderella (1997), I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Prince Charming is a Bi-King, Prince Charming Is Filipino, Because the actor is and I also am one so yeah, Prince Charming gets a lot of bitches but no love, Merlin Academy (Disney), James Hook is gay, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, I don't know how to tag in this fandom, No Beta Like Not Going To Castlecoming

Summary:

Charming had himself caught up in a pretty little lie, telling his parents he had a date for his birthday ball. Desperate to stop their meddling in his love life, he came up with a plan: show up with someone who’d make the court gasp—a notorious pirate at school, James Hook. It was supposed to be a quick fix: fake a romance, cause a stir, and be free from the royal matchmakers forever. But the more time Charming spent with Hook—as a person, the sharp banter—the more complicated things got. This wasn’t just about pretending anymore. He was starting to get hooked. Or The sorta enemies to fake dating to lovers between Hook and Charming no one asked for.

Content Rating: Teen and Up.

Wordcount: 5,931

Notes (Same On AO3):

Hi, I'm Ace. But I'm here posting and writing more gay shit for the Descendants fandom.

I'm one for a crack ship and these two don't even interact in the movie so you may be wondering what made me do this. Three things actually:

I'm in the Descendants editing community and I saw this edit by @jewishvarian. Hook's actor Josh pretty much showing his support to this ship has made we want to do this.

The second inspiration is Once Upon A Time ship Captain Charming my sister had a Once Upon A Time phase so I know quite a bit about them. The third thing the catalyst for this is the fanfic Stage Call by Montythecrow. (The first chapter is really good can't wait for more. Also R.I.P. DBD I never got to make a DBD fic before it got cancelled *sighs in JATP*)

Let's do some housekeeping and explain the lore because this fic grabs from fifty million things.

- The Brandy Cinderella movie or Rodgers & Hammerstein's Cinderella (1997) as it's also known are major inspirations. I pulled the characterization of Charming from this film and the new Descendants film and I pulled the whole of Charming's parents and his butler Lionel from this movie. (Pls watch this movie. It's really fun, campy and entertaining.)

- I also took from various Prince Charming media from Cinderella movies from Disney to non-Disney. Charming (2018)'s Trophy Boy by Avril Lavigne, Ashely Tisdale and G.E.M. is where the title of this fic comes from. It's a bad movie but this song is legendary and pop perfection. A K-pop star, a Disney star, and a rock star all in one song is crazy.

- This fic has multiple POV's for Charming focused parts 👑 emojis are used on the other hook if it's James it's this emoji 🪝.

- Finally, this isn't a GayashellJATP fic without a playlist of songs I have on that help immerse you in the universe. Spotify playlist here!!!

Now that we are done with some housekeeping. Enjoy the fic & Remember to give feedback!!! It is always appreciated.

Notes (Tumblr):

I'm trying to do better on posting on here and being on time. With being a cross platform author. I still don't know how Tumblr works pls help me. Once again I suggest you read on AO3 my formatting is way better on that.

Chapter 1: Before The Ball

👑

Charming was so screwed.

He'd been excused from class by royal summons, which only meant one of two things: either bad news or... well, worse news. Lionel, the family’s loyal servant and his assigned guardian at the academy, was jittery, practically fidgeting as he escorted the skateboarding teen to the castle.

Lionel’s nervousness only heightened Charming's suspicion—did he tattle on him sneaking out of the academy for a late-night date? Again? Or worse—had he forgotten some royal obligation that would now come back to bite him?

Despite the comfortable life he'd been born into, Charming had a talent for getting into situations that made it... uncomfortable. Usually of his own making.

The moment they arrived at the vast, gilded throne room, the knot in his stomach twisted tighter. His mother stood. Not good. Queen Constantina only stood when something serious—truly serious—was about to be discussed. Lionel cleared his throat and began the ceremonial introduction.

“Your Royal Highness, Prince Charming—”

The Queen interrupted with a sharp glance. “Prince Christopher Rupert Windermere Vladimir—”

“Mom,” Charming sighed, cutting Lionel off. “He doesn’t have to say it every time.” The poor man practically bowed in relief when Charming gestured for him to be seated. The full name was ridiculously wordy, one of the many reasons why "Prince Charming" stuck much more easily.

“Son, you didn’t need to dismiss him,” King Maximilian spoke up from beside the queen, kissing his wife’s hand. Charming had to resist the urge to roll his eyes.

His parents were constantly doing that—displaying affection as if they were still teenagers in love. Any love hater would have gagged, but Charming simply tried to suppress a smirk. Even he couldn't deny they were a good match, for better or worse.

“Mom. Dad. What is it this time?” Charming asked, his voice strained but trying not to sound too impatient.

“Watch your tone, Junior,” his father said, though not harshly.

Charming forced a deep breath. “Fine. What’s the big news?” he said, layering on enthusiasm that was just short of sarcasm.

The Queen exchanged a meaningful glance with her husband before turning to her son, her posture regal and dramatic all at once. "Your eighteenth birthday in two days."

“I thought—” his father began, but a sharp elbow from his wife stopped him. “We thought it would be appropriate to throw a birthday ball.”

Charming's heart sank. "A ball?" His voice came out strained. "Father, is that really necessary?"

Queen Constantina's eyes glistened with an air of theatrics as she responded, “You haven’t shown any of your potential picks for marriage. You are two years overdue for at least a partner!” Her voice hitched as though it were a tragedy in itself.

Charming had tried, of course. He'd gone on more first dates than he cared to count, but none had led to anything serious. His royal reputation for being “charming” only went so far, especially when he wasn’t charmed by anyone.

“I’m working on it,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “But Mom, I don’t think a ball for my birthday is necessary.”

“Necessary?” His mother’s voice shot up an octave, her hand flying dramatically to her chest as if she were about to swoon. “Is it necessary that I should die knowing my only son will be a lonely king?!”

Charming’s eyes widened. “Mom, please. You’re not going to—"

“I might!” she countered, her voice trembling as if the mere thought of his supposed future loneliness was too much to bear. “The idea of you being all alone without a wife or family—oh! How tragic it would be!”

Charming rubbed the back of his neck, suppressing a groan. He loved his mom, truly, but sometimes her dramatics were... a lot. “Okay, fine. I get it. But… I have someone. Already. A partner.”

The words were out of his mouth before he had a chance to think them through. His heart nearly stopped as both his parents' faces lit up.

“You do?!” his father exclaimed, clapping his hands together in glee.

The Queen looked like she was about to burst into tears of joy. “Oh, my darling boy! You’ve found someone! You’ve—”

Charming quickly nodded, feeling his stomach churn with regret. “Yep. Found someone. Really great.”

His father beamed. “That’s fantastic news, son! We were beginning to wonder if you'd ever—"

“But the ball,” Queen Constantina interjected with a flourish of her hand. “The ball must still happen! After all, it’s been paid for, and all the preparations have already been made.”

Charming’s shoulders slumped. “Of course it has…”

His mother took his hands, her eyes sparkling. “Oh, darling, I can’t wait to meet this special someone of yours. Bring her to the ball!”

"Yeah. Absolutely," Charming forced a grin, though inside, his mind raced. He was so, so screwed. Not only was the ball happening no matter what, but now he had to show up with a date—someone bad enough to stop his parents from meddling in his love life ever again.

Where on Earth was he going to find that?

👑

Charming zoomed through the academy gates on his skateboard, the wind whipping through his hair as his thoughts churned. Why had he lied? It gnawed at him, the weight of a falsehood pressing on his conscience. Lies weren’t really his thing. Now, he’d have to turn that lie into reality, or it would eat him alive.

As he skated through the courtyard, his gaze caught Fay, a fairy in training and his hexalogy class partner, sitting cross-legged on the grass, her nose buried in a spellbook. She was mumbling under her breath, waving her wand with exaggerated movements as sparks of magic fizzled in the air.

“Hey, Fay,” he called, slowing down as he rolled over.

Fay glanced up, her wide eyes narrowing with playful frustration. “Charming, where were you?” she asked, tapping her wand against her open book. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to hex yourself and then unhex yourself without your partner? I nearly turned myself into a frog!”

“Royal duties,” Charming shrugged, offering an apologetic smile.

Fay’s expression softened immediately. She knew all too well the burden his title carried. “What did the queen say this time?” she asked, her tone light but sympathetic.

Charming rubbed the back of his neck. “We’re throwing another ball.”

Fay’s face lit up. “A ball? Isn’t that fantastic—” she paused, noticing the scowl creeping over Charming's face, “—ally… impossible to enjoy?” She attempted to course-correct, her enthusiasm dimming as she realized how much the idea clearly weighed on him. Fay wasn’t the best at being negative, but she tried.

“But I’ll make it up to you. I’ll be there for the next class.”

“You better be,” Fay huffed, but her tone was forgiving.

“The whole kingdom’s invited. Maybe I’ll catch you at the ball?”

“Nah, I doubt it. I’ll be here practicing my spells,” she said with a shy smile, already inching back toward her book. Fay wasn’t one for social events—she always seemed to vanish from them, though Charming never asked why.

“Well, I’ll see you later,” Charming said, giving her a quick wave.

“Later, skater!” Fay called, attempting to sound cool, which earned a chuckle from Charming. She couldn’t help but laugh at herself as he rolled away.

But as Charming skated off, Fay accidentally mispronounced her next spell. Instead of reciting "double the bubbles," she muttered "double the wobbles" under her breath. Without realizing it, she had casted a spell on Charming’s skateboard, causing it to take on a life of its own.

Charming, an experienced skater, didn’t notice anything at first. But as he glided past the group of notorious students hanging out by the courtyard's edge, the board beneath his feet began to wobble violently, as though possessed.

His body lurched forward, trying to steady himself, but the board had other ideas. It veered, zigzagging uncontrollably, and before Charming could react, it shot straight toward a cluster of students.

In a blur of motion, Charming collided with none other than Captain James Hook—his pirate classmate, and perhaps the academy’s most infamous heartthrob after Charming himself. With a loud thud, both boys went crashing to the ground, Hook's shiny golden hook clattering against the stone courtyard as they tumbled in a tangle of limbs.

Charming groaned, disentangling himself. “I’m so sorry!” he blurted, scrambling to his feet. His skateboard had spun off and smacked into a nearby tree, finally bringing the spell to a halt.

Hook stood up slowly, glaring down at Charming with narrowed eyes. His gaze was sharp and menacing, but there was a flicker of something else—jealousy? Amusement? It was hard to tell.

“You really are a royal asshole, aren’t you?” Hook growled, dusting off his crimson blazer. His voice dripped with venom, but there was something undeniably captivating about the way he spoke. “Gunning for me, were you?”

“No! No, I swear. I didn’t mean to—I lost control of the board.”

Hook didn’t seem convinced. He stepped closer, his imposing presence casting a shadow over Charming. “You were heading straight toward me, mate,” Hook said, his tone dangerously low. His golden hook gleamed as he pointed it directly at Charming’s perfect face. “That doesn’t seem like much of an accident.”

Charming’s heart pounded as his eyes flicked from Hook’s face to the hook hovering too close for comfort. He held up his hands in surrender, his voice calm and soothing. “Whoa, easy,” he said, gently grabbing Hook’s wrist and pushing the hook away from his face. For a brief second, his fingers brushed against Hook’s skin.

For just a moment, Charming couldn’t help but notice Hook. The sharp features, the dark, windswept hair, the way his crimson blazer framed his broad shoulders. And those eyes—intense, narrowed in suspicion, but undeniably alluring.

Charming blinked, snapping out of it. He was in trouble, not admiring the guy who was about to gut him like a fish.

Hook, however, seemed to notice Charming’s lingering gaze. His eyes flashed with something almost wild, and a wicked smirk curled on his lips. “What’s the matter, Prince? Distracted?”

“Uh, no. Not at all. Just… don’t want to get impaled, that’s all.”

Hook raised an eyebrow, amused but not backing down. “Right.” He clicked his tongue, his hook gleaming in the sunlight as he let it fall to his side. “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood today. Or else…” He let the threat hang in the air, his eyes still burning into Charming’s.

“Right, yeah. Lucky,” Charming muttered, his pulse still racing. He wasn’t sure if it was from the near-death experience or the fact that Hook was standing way too close. He hadn’t expected Hook to be so—well, so much. Why was he noticing that now?

Hook’s smirk lingered as he stepped back, finally giving Charming some space. “Try not to skate into any more of your classmates, mate. Especially not me or my crew got it?.” He turned, flipping his collar with an air of superiority, though there was a glint in his eye as he strode away.

Charming watched him leave, shaking his head. Hook was dangerous—and not just because of the hook. There was something else there. Something he really needed to avoid.

But as he glanced back at his skateboard lying against the tree, the thought struck him: maybe, just maybe, Hook was exactly the kind of problem he needed.

If he could bring Hook to the ball, that would surely get his parents off his back. Right?

How would he ever get Hook to agree to that? He was really, really screwed.

🪝

Hook was seething. What a clueless little prince, he thought, his jaw clenched as he stormed through the academy's halls. Charming had to be the most oblivious royal he'd ever met. For someone so poised and charming, the prince had no idea how to navigate the real world.

Not that Hook expected much more from royals—they were all so privileged, so sheltered, so painfully clueless. That’s what made them easy marks. Their money, their fine clothes, their trinkets—it was all just there for the taking, practically begging to be lifted.

But this? This was different. Hook’s pride was bruised more than anything. Charming had made him collide with the earth, of all things, and Hook wasn’t going to forgive the little prince for sullying his pristine, mint-condition vintage blazer. He cast a quick glance at the fabric—no visible damage, but that didn’t matter. The fact that it had touched the ground at all was an unforgivable offense.

And worse, Hook knew his crew would never let him live this down if they found out. His reputation couldn’t take a hit like that, not when he had spent so much time cultivating it. He had to get his revenge. Teach the prince a lesson.

So, during storybook history class, Hook slipped out unnoticed. He snuck across the academy grounds to the royal dormitory— Full of one bed and customized rooms, unlike less privileged students. They weren’t allowed to deface their rooms and they had a roommate system. But Hook wasn’t complaining his roommate was pretty great.

But he wasn’t here to brood. No, he was here to act.

Charming’s dorm was up ahead, and Hook was relieved to see no sign of that bothersome butler Lionel. Of course, the little prince needs a servant to wait on him hand and foot, Hook thought, rolling his eyes. He always found it odd—off-putting, even—that Charming couldn’t go anywhere without a personal attendant. How soft and pampered could you get?

Hook approached Charming’s door, a sly grin spreading across his face. With a quick glance down the hallway, he slipped his golden hook into the lock, working it with practiced ease. Today, he was wearing his favorite hook—the golden one that added a touch of class to his ensemble. He’d have to be careful not to scratch it. The lock gave way with a soft click, and Hook pushed the door open, slipping inside.

The room smelled of expensive cologne, and everything was arranged perfectly. Typical royal. Hook sneered. He moved to the wardrobe, his eyes scanning the rows of pristine clothes.

Charming had quite the collection—mostly royal-styled barongs and beige outfits, which made Hook wrinkle his nose. Beige? Ugh, he thought with disdain. Not his color at all. Where was the flair, the vibrancy? Not a single dark or deep color in sight. Charming had such a boring taste in clothes for someone so well-dressed.

Still, a theft was a theft. Hook rifled through the clothes, trying to find something worth taking. Surely the prince won’t miss a few pieces, he thought, tossing aside a particularly dull-looking beige tunic.

What Hook didn’t realize was how much time he’d spent browsing

But time had gotten away from him, and Hook hadn’t realized how long he’d been sifting through the prince’s belongings until he heard the unmistakable sound of the door opening behind him.

“Looking for something?” came a voice that was far too calm for Hook’s liking.

Hook froze, hand halfway through a drawer of silk cravats. Slowly, he turned around, his heart sinking as he locked eyes with Prince Charming standing in the doorway with a smirk, arms crossed over his chest. He hadn’t expected to get caught—he never got caught.

Hook blinked, trying to regain his composure. “Ah skater boy,” he began, straightening up and smoothing his jacket. “This… is not what it looks like.”

Charming raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Really? Because it looks like you’re in my room rifling through my wardrobe.”

Hook swallowed, his mind racing for an excuse. He’d been in tight spots before, but this? This was a mess. “I was, uh… inspecting your clothing choices. Offering a little… constructive criticism, you might say,” Hook replied, flashing a crooked grin, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He wasn’t used to feeling this off-kilter. “No offense, mate, but 50 shades of tan and beige? Really?”

Charming’s expression remained neutral, though there was a glint of something unreadable in his eyes. “And you thought breaking into my room was the best way to offer fashion advice?”

Before Hook could answer, Lionel appeared in the doorway, eyes wide as they flickered between the pirate and the prince. “Am I interrupting, sir? I didn’t expect a guest,” Lionel said, his voice a touch too polite, suspicion creeping in.

Charming, without losing his cool, glanced slightly over his shoulder at Lionel but didn’t shift his focus from Hook. “It’s fine, Lionel. Could you give us a moment?” His tone was dismissive but not unkind, the sort of royal command that left no room for argument.

"Of course, Your Highness," Lionel replied, a touch too formal as he bowed and quickly excused himself, but not without one last curious glance, probably wondering if he had just witnessed the beginnings of some lovers' quarrel. The door closed softly behind him.

The moment Lionel left, Hook let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He eyed Charming warily, wondering how much trouble he was in. He hated the feeling of being cornered, especially by a royal.

“So…” Hook began, his voice dripping with false confidence. “No need to make this a big deal, yeah? You’re not going to go crying to Merlin, are you?”

Charming’s lips curled into a small smile. “I’m not planning on it, no.”

Sweet relief washed over Hook, but it was short-lived as Charming took a step closer, his tone turning just a shade more serious. “But I can’t just let this slide either, can I?”

Hook swallowed, his bravado faltering for a moment. “I only did this after our little incident,” he blurted out, trying to regain control of the conversation. He gestured vaguely between them, referencing their earlier collision.

Charming tilted his head slightly, as if considering Hook’s words. “And you thought breaking into my room and raiding my wardrobe was the right way to even the score?”

Hook’s mind scrambled for a sweet escape. “Look you don’t need to turn me in,” he said, practically begging now.

Charming considered this for a moment, his gaze flicking over Hook’s disheveled form and the mess of clothes scattered around his room. Then, almost as if a thought occurred to him, his smile returned—this time, sharper. “Actually, I think I might have an idea. Meet me by the castleteria at dinner time.”

“A dinner? You’re not going to tell anyone about this?”

“No, not yet,” Charming replied, his voice smooth but tinged with mischief. “But if you don’t show up, then maybe we’ll reconsider the whole punishment thing.”

Hook’s stomach twisted. He hated feeling like he was at someone’s mercy, especially Charming’s. But something in the prince’s eyes told him this wasn’t just about revenge—it was about leverage. Hook didn’t know what Charming had in mind, but whatever it was, it couldn’t be good.

Still, he nodded, trying to regain his bravado. “Alright, Prince. Dinner date it is.”

Charming smirked, stepping aside to let Hook pass.

Hook left the room, heart still pounding, cursing himself under his breath. He’d been caught, and now, somehow, he was in too deep.

🪝

“Hook, what bullshit did you get into?” Uliana’s voice cut through the room like a whip, her tone sharp with irritation as she lounged on Morgie’s bed, her tentacles subtly shifting.

The five of them were crammed into Hook and Morgie’s shared dorm room, a small space that felt even smaller with Uliana’s dramatic presence filling the air. Hook, on the other hand, was sprawled lazily across his bed, legs crossed like he had not a care in the world, but deep down, his stomach churned with unease.

Hook glanced at Uliana, who was tapping her nails against her belt buckle.. “Relax, Uliana. It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“Is it a date?” Morgie piped up, his eyes wide with genuine curiosity as he fiddled with a piece of parchment,

Hook scoffed. “Really, wizard-oo? That’s your question?” The brunnete pirate shot back, but he didn’t quite meet Morgie’s gaze, a flicker of discomfort crossing his face. “It’s not a date, you idiot.”

“You didn’t deny it, Hook, so that means you’re going on a date with that royal eyesore,” Maleficent added with a sly smirk, reclining against the wall. She twirled a strand of dark hair between her fingers.

Hook sat up, trying to regain his composure, his golden hook glinting as he gestured wildly. “He’s got a little rebel streak in him, sure, but a date? With me?” Hook forced a laugh, but it came out a little too harsh. “He’s too soft for that.”

Hades, who had been lounging in the corner, arms folded and his fiery blue hair flickering lazily, chimed in with a smirk of his own. “I dunno, mate. You see those blue streaks he’s rocking these days? Kid’s got a little fire in him. You pick them well, James.”

What did the prince have in mind for him? Why had Charming asked him to meet at dinner? He was good at handling himself, but this was different. Royals had a way of twisting things to their advantage, and he wasn’t sure he’d come out on top this time.

Uliana’s tentacles flexed, her eyes narrowing. “This better not blow back on us, Hook. You get tangled up with that prince, and we’re all screwed. I’ve got enough on my plate without cleaning up your messes.”

Morgie, ever the optimist, gave Hook a hopeful smile. “Maybe it won’t be so bad? You two could, you know... find common ground?” He shrugged, completely oblivious to the heavy glares that Uliana shot his way.

Hook grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck. “Trust me, I don’t belive in common ground I’m a pirate after all. The seas are what matter,” he muttered, but even as he said it, he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that Charming wasn’t as simple as he’d like to believe. Whatever the prince had planned, Hook had no choice but to play along—for now.

👑

Lionel watched as Charming’s fencing movements faltered, his usual grace replaced by distracted, half-hearted parries. The clanging of their swords echoed through the gymnasium, but the prince’s mind was clearly somewhere else.

“Sir—I mean, Christopher, what’s the worry face for?” Lionel asked, lowering his sword slightly, his tone a mix of concern with playful scolding. “Your mother would say frowning is terrible for the face.”

Charming winced and laughed, “Ouch. Thanks for that reminder, Lionel.”

Lionel tilted his head, eyeing the prince with the same scrutiny one might give a misbehaving child. “Having love problems, are we?”

Charming hesitated mid-lunge. “Sorta… kinda... undetermined.” He shrugged, trying to mask the uncertainty in his voice with nonchalance.

“I’ll try to make sense of that, sir,”

Charming straightened up, tossing his sword onto the nearby rack. “I do have a problem,”

“And what may that be, Your Highness?”

“I lied to my parents,” Charming confessed, running a hand through his streaked hair. “I told them I had someone to bring them for the ball, but... I have no one.”

Lionel gasped theatrically, hand flying to his chest in mock horror. “Oh dear! The end of the world!”

Charming grinned, though the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Don’t panic. I’ve got it under control. I think…”

“Is that why there was a handsome pirate rummaging through your wardrobe this morning?” he asked with a pointed look. “Is he part of your grand plan?”

Charming blinked, caught off guard. “He’s not that handsome,” he blurted out, the words leaving his mouth before he could stop them. Lionel’s amused smirk only deepened. Charming’s cheeks flushed. “I mean—he’s alright,” he backpedaled quickly, though Lionel’s knowing look said it all.

Lionel chuckled softly, tapping the flat of his sword against the ground. “What would your parents think of him, then? A pirate at the royal ball?”

“They did say every suitor in the kingdom that doesn’t exclude male or pirates. But they’d be terrified,”

“And here I thought you were planning to bring a princess,” Lionel mused, shaking his head with fond exasperation.

“Well, ‘pirate’ does start with a P,” Charming quipped, unable to suppress his grin. “Might be close enough. Don’t ask for permission ask for forgiveness.”

“The ball’s happening no matter what, Christopher. Your parents are set on it,” Lionel reminded him, though there was no judgment in his voice. He was used to the prince’s antics by now.

Charming nodded, tossing his fencing jacket aside. “Yeah, well, might as well make it a little more exciting.”

“If I’m going down, I’m going down singing.” The prince sang.

Lionel chuckled, stepping forward to ruffle the prince’s hair. “You’re always causing trouble. But… you're going to be fine, you always are.”

Charming laughed, a bit of the tension easing from his shoulders. “Thanks, Lionel.”

"Just... try not to start a royal scandal this time,"

"Can't make any promises," Charming shot back with a grin.

👑

The night had settled over Merlin Academy, and the castleteria was buzzing. On the lower level, students from various backgrounds sat together, some attempting to eat in peace while others whispered and laughed in tight-knit groups.

The second level, however, was a different story entirely—a separate, glass-enclosed space designed for royal students, a consequence of the infamous "Ariel incident" from freshman year. Uliana, the sea witch, had stirred up a food fight with the sophomore Little Mermaid herself, (A girl her older sister bullied aswell)

which ended with food flying and a lot of egos bruised. Now, extra security stood guard, and Charming hated it.

It drained his social battery to be so isolated. He used to enjoy mingling, making polite conversation with his peers, but now he found himself perched in this sterile room, looking down at the rest of the academy through the glass window like he was in some kind of fishbowl.

It didn’t help that Lionel, who usually provided some form of company, was off handling royal duties whenever it was mealtime. So Charming sat alone, poking at his food, waiting.

Well, not exactly alone. He was expecting someone. Or rather, a pirate . The word "victim" had crossed his mind, but that sounded too cruel, and blackmailee was just unpleasant. So, pirate it was.

Charming’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a scuffle outside the door. Voices—loud, irritated voices—drifted in, and he didn’t need to guess who it was.

“Let go of me! Easy on the coat!” came the familiar accent, sharp and indignant.

The guards were clearly manhandling Hook. Charming sighed, standing up from his seat and making his way to the door. He opened it just in time to see one of the guards tugging on Hook’s crimson coat, and Hook, true to form, looking royally pissed off.

“Stop it!” Charming barked, a little more forcefully than usual. “Let him go. He's with me.”

The two guards immediately released Hook, straightening up as they realized their mistake. One of them, the taller one with a stern face, glanced at Charming apologetically. “Apologies, Your Highness. We didn’t know he was—”

“Yeah, clearly,” Hook cut in, brushing off his coat like he’d just been dragged through the mud. “A real fine welcome, I must say.”

The other guard, younger and more nervous, muttered, “We thought he might’ve been here to, uh… cause trouble, Your Highness.”

Charming sighed, rubbing his temples. “He’s not here to cause trouble. I invited him.” He shot a look at Hook. “Sorry about the mix-up.”

Hook crossed his arms, glaring at the guards. “Way to go, Prince. You invite me, then forget to tell your people I’m coming. Real nice lad, aren’t you?”

Charming gave him a sheepish look, stepping forward and placing a hand on Hook’s shoulder—more of a placating gesture than anything. “I said I was sorry.”

Hook immediately shrugged off his hand, the familiar click of his hook against Charming's wrist. “Easy on the coat. You and your lot have already helped it deteriorate faster than it should.”

“Shall we?” he said, gesturing toward the table.

Hook huffed in response but said nothing, striding past the prince and into the dining area. His eyes scanned the lavish room, taking in the gleaming chandeliers, the velvet-lined chairs, and the royal setup. For a moment, Charming saw a flicker of appreciation cross his face—just for a second—before Hook’s usual facade of nonchalance slipped back into place.

“Nice place you’ve got here,” Hook said, though the casual tone didn’t quite match the look in his eyes. “Bit excessive for a meal, don’t you think?”

Charming smirked, crossing his arms as he followed Hook inside. He could see through the pirate’s act. “If it hadn’t been for that food fight with Ariel and your friend during freshman year, none of this would’ve happened.”

“Yeah, well, she was pretty awesome for that.”

Charming rolled his eyes, though a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Right. Let’s just sit and eat before you start a revolution in here too.”

They settled into their seats, a tense silence hanging between them. Charming could feel the weight of Hook’s gaze, sharp and calculating. This wasn’t some casual dinner. Both of them knew it, even if neither wanted to admit it.

The dinner had been silent for too long. Hook, never one to let tension sit without poking at it, decided to break it “So, what are your intentions, Your Highness? You’re a popular bloke around here. Getting lonely?”

Charming’s fork paused mid-air before he set it down, carefully. “I have friends.” His mind flickered to Aladdin and Jasmine, who often joined him for meals, bringing stories of their magic carpets adventures.

Then there were Ella and Bridget, after the two got together they always found time to drop by with baked treats—often enchanted with strange, unpredictable side effects, like turning his hair fully blue or making him float for a few minutes.

Zelly, ever the life of the party, would bring her chameleon Pascal, and they’d all end up doing karaoke. After all, the royal dining area inexplicably had a karaoke machine tucked in the corner.

“So it’s not loneliness or complete boredom, why have me here?” Hook pressed.

Charming hesitated, trying to maintain a mysterious air. He knew Hook was too clever to show his cards too early. “I have something to ask,” was all he said, keeping his tone casual.

Hook leaned back, a smirk playing on his lips as he lounged in the velvet chair, clearly amused by the prince’s attempt at suspense. “What’s this all about, then? A royal invitation for little old me? You're not planning on throwing me in the dungeons after dessert, are you?”

Charming chuckled, though there was a hint of nervousness behind it. “No dungeons. Just… an arrangement.” He felt Hook’s guard go up instantly, the pirate’s smirk hardening into something more defensive.

“Arrangement?” Hook’s brow arched in mock curiosity, though there was no mistaking the sharpness in his tone. “What sort of arrangement would a prince want from moi ?”

“I need you to be my date,” Charming said, the words slipping out before he could fully gather his nerve. He paused, seeing Hook’s expression shift, and hurried to clarify, “Not in the traditional sense.”

Hook’s face didn’t change much. He leaned in slightly, his gaze sharp, like he was toying with a fish on a hook. “You went to so much trouble to impress me,” Hook said with snobbish amusement, “I’m flattered, but you’re not my type.”

Charming felt his face flush but pushed on. “My parents are throwing me this stupid ball, and I hate it. It’s all about me, and I just—” He suddenly found himself unraveling, words tumbling out in a rush. “I blurted out that I had a date, thinking it would stop them from pressuring me, but now it’s just worse, and I don’t know how to—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold your horses, Prince,” Hook interrupted with a bemused smirk, holding up his hand. “That’s a lot of whining for me.”

Charming blinked, startled by Hook’s bluntness. Somehow, those few words snapped him out of his spiraling rant. He let out an embarrassed laugh, the tension easing from his shoulders. For a second, he found himself thinking Hook looked oddly…kinda hot.

The pirate, for all his snark, had an air of control about him that made Charming’s stomach twist in a way he didn’t quite understand.

But Hook was getting up, clearly looking like he was about to leave. He couldn’t let him just walk out, not after coming this far. Desperation flickered in his chest, and he scrambled for a last-ditch effort.

“Wait!” Charming stood quickly, his hand brushing against Hook’s arm as he reached out. “I haven’t told you the benefits yet.”

Hook paused, turning halfway with a knowing gleam in his eyes. “Alright. I’m listening.”

Charming exhaled, thinking quickly. “You’ll get lots of opportunities being seen with me. The ball is in two days. You won’t have to pretend for long. You’ll get to live lavishly, and you don’t have to worry about me telling anyone about your… thieving incident.”

Hook’s eyes flickered, but instead of biting, he turned fully away, stepping toward the door. Charming felt his heart sink. He'd blown it. This was going to be harder than he thought—time for Plan B, whatever that was.

Then, Hook stopped, glancing over his shoulder with a smirk that made Charming’s pulse quicken. “I’ll do it.”

“What?”

“I said I’ll do it,” Hook repeated, turning fully now, his expression unreadable. “I’ll be your boyfriend. For rent, of course.”

Charming bristled slightly. “That doesn’t sound very nice.”

“Well, that’s the reality, babe,” Hook teased, the last word slipping off his tongue like a taunt. The prince stiffened at the word. He didn’t like the way it sounded coming from Hook’s mouth. Or maybe he liked it too much, and that was the problem.

“Fine, we’ll talk tomorrow, lay down the ground rules. We can discuss everything over breakfast.”

“Blah, blah, so boring. You don’t need so many pleasantries to fake-date me, you know. We’re not writing a treaty.”

Charming stepped closer, his face inching into Hook’s space. “I’ll pick you up in the morning. We’ll discuss the plan then.”

Hook gave him a mocking grin, eyes flicking down between them before meeting Charming’s gaze again. “You just love a good scheme and a meal, don’t you? That’s pathetic—and kinda cute, actually.”

Something inside Charming snapped at that last line. “Who are you calling pathetic?” he growled, stepping even closer until they were face to face.

Hook’s eyes danced with amusement, but there was something else beneath the surface, something unreadable. For a brief moment, they stood there in awkward silence, close enough to feel each other’s breaths, their hands grazing.

The bell rang suddenly, cutting through the moment and pulling them back to reality. Charming took a step back, clearing his throat. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” He asked, his princely demeanor slipping back into place, though his voice was quieter than before.

Hook smirked, already slipping toward the door. “You know where to find me, Your Highness .”

Charming was still screwed how was he going to pull this sham? But he did make some progress he just hoped the pirate didn’t cause too much trouble.

👑

Notes:

Hope you enjoy the fic & Remember to give feedback!!! It is always appreciated. The fate of this fic is in y'alls hands its up to all of you whether this continues. (And if you reading this on tumblr. Thank you so much for giving this a read.) Request go here on my tumblr.

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hoeplessl0nging · 7 months ago

Text

Moonglow and Sunspots

The moon and sun are two halves of a whole, forever intertwined in the dance of love and light. What is dead may never die and the music waits for no one, so why bother waiting for a "right" when the perfect harmony was there all along? This is the song of Julie and Luka. [5.6k words]

essentially this is a Julie/female!Luke fic, since im a sucker for jatp || cross-posted on ao3

A gentle tune resonated through the garage, the gentle strumming of the acoustic guitar weaving a melodic web of notes. Julie sighed and leant back against the couch. Plush pillows and old blankets pressed against her skin like a hug. She closed her eyes and soaked in the energy of the room. Her hands folded across her belly, fidgeting with her rings and tracing over the edges of her nails.

Reggie was quietly going through the bags of stuff in the loft, sorting piles of clothes and other stuff occasionally marvelling at one of the finds with an “Oh, I remember that!” or sharing an anecdote of the item. Alex was out, gone somewhere Julie knew not.

Luca was the one playing the guitar, humming along to herself before momentarily pausing to scribble something down in her notebook-songbook, like her dream journal. Julie watched her move from the corner of her eye, the slight crinkle to her brow, the way she’d worry her lip and fumble with the pen from time to time, slipping through her phantom fingers. Fingers that always moved so naturally, with such a practised ease across the frets and strings of the guitar.

The world beyond their studio, her mom’s studio, Sunset Curve’s studio, was dark, crickets chirped away in the garden. Warm golden lights, from both fairy lights and scattered floor lamps, dim and friendly gleamed against the windows, off the glossy white finish of the freshly painted-still drying grand piano. Julie blinked again, staring up at the floating furniture.

It was nice to have music back in her life again, even if she’d had to be dragged back to it, kicking and screaming by three ghosts ever so passionate about the topic. She smiled slightly, something sweet and sad and bitter all at once – if her mom had met them, the charming ghost band Julie had begun to think of as hers, adorable Reggy, sweet Alex, and passionate Luka, Julie was certain she’d love them too.

Luka cleared her throat. “Jules, are you napping or can I run this by you?”

The curly haired girl blinked blearily, though she sat up against the couch and nodded her head. “Go for it, Lu.”

Luka’s lips rose, bearing her pearly teeth in the beginnings of a grin. She was pretty all of the time, but it was her smile that made her face come alive. - When she smiled that the world stopped. When she smiled, Julie suddenly found herself out of breath.

“Okay, so, working on a new song. Maybe for our next gig or whenever?” She screwed her nose up slightly, and shook her head, Julie furrowed her brow, she huffed out a breath and sat up only to lean forward, resting an elbow on her knee. “So what I’m thinking is..”

“You guys haven’t heard of Paramore?” Julie’s heart dropped from her chest to her feet. Flynn’s sudden startled-shocked-hurt shout carried across the garage, their studio, at the words of her best friend.

Reggie’s brow furrowed, “Who are they?”

“What about MCR?” Flynn cut in sharply. The ghosts all shook their heads, Julie mimicked the motion.

She put her hand over her heart and asked the empty space around the garage, “Panic! at the Disco? I mean before they split and Brendan Urie made it all suck.”

“No.” Julie relayed again, though she asked her own. “Good Charlotte?”

They all shook their heads.

“What do you mean no? I thought they formed in 1995?”

Luka raised her shoulders and threw herself onto her couch. “Yeah, we formed in 1991, but we only released our debut album the same year we died, Julie.”

“Oh, yeah.” The words tasted like ash on her tongue. How could she keep forgetting the whole being dead thing?

“Sorry, sometimes it just feels like I’ve known you all forever, I forget you’ve missed out on the last 25 years of music.”

“Twenty five years!” Flynn shouted in shock. “They haven’t started catching up on music yet?! Julie, I thought you’d’ve got them all caught up by now.”

“No, I haven’t yet.” Julie replied, a bashful look on her face. She ran a hand through her curls, pastel nails scratching her scalp.

Luka poofed behind her, the sudden appearance a cold explosion of supernatural force. She smiled at Julie as she leaned over her shoulder. “Still, it’s sweet.”

Alex nodded, as did Reggie, though it was the blonde ghost that spoke. “Feels like we’ve known you forever too.”

Her chest filled with a fuzzy feeling. They were saying she felt like one of them. Like a real part of the band, not a new member or a means to an end, they were saying she was family.

Flynn waved her hand, pacing back and forth, parallel to the studio doors. “Julie, you know what this means?”

Julie had the audacity to shake her head.

Her best friend made a hurt expression, exclaiming. “They don’t know Beyonce, or Kanye or Taylor Swift! Alicia Keys, Lady Gaga, Rihanna, Britney Spears, all missing from their mindspace of pop culture and music experiences! The works of Florence Welch, SZA and Ethel Cain mean nothing to them. They never got to listen to good kid, m.A.A.d city or any other Kendrick album or any indie rock or, or, midwest emo.”

“Hey! I’ve listened to Texas is the Reason.” Reggie cut in, though Flynn could not hear or see him. Luka snickered and Alex whacked the back of her head, as if to scold her for laughing at him. Julie rolled her eyes. Ghosts would be ghosts.

She kept speaking, however, “They’ve never heard of One Direction, or 5sos, or Halsey or Demi Lovato or fucking Hannah Montanna. They’ve never seen High School Musical! They’re from a pre-Hamilton- No, a pre-Wicked world.”

Alex screwed up his face. “What the fuck is pre-hamilton meant to mean? Is it like an illness?”

Luka snorted out a laugh, brilliant like the sun in her exclamation. Once she stifled the cackles back into something manageable she said. “No, it’s a poster in the back of Julie’s closet, near this other one with the coloured robot lions and cartoon people.”

“What were you doing in my closet?” She asked sharply, brow quirked and arms folded over her chest, interrupting Flynn’s impassioned rant. Julie could feel Flynn’s eyes boring into the back of her head in something akin to confusion, yet she chose to ignore it.

The ghost girl looked guilty, like a puppy caught doing something it shouldn’t have been doing. “Nothing.”

She scoffed. “Yeah, sure you were Lu.”

“Sorry.”

“Flynn’s right though, guys.” Julie glanced at Flynn, a look of shared knowing passing between their minds. “You’ve never heard You’ve got the Dirtee Love, it needs to be fixed.”

“That sounds like something friends shouldn’t be talking to each other about.” Alex screwed up his face.

Luka snickered again, though she just shrugged when Julie gave her a glare.

Reggie waved a hand at both Luka and Alex, “So, we get a ghost pop-culture montage. Let’s go.”

Julie gave the nod as she turned to the other girl in the studio. Flynn’s lips split into a grin and she pulled her braids back into a ponytail. “This is going to be fun.”

The three phantoms spared an anxious-reluctant-excited look between each other.

It was a hell of music, movies, pop culture recap videos and Youtube drama videos. Several hours of the “key figures” of the last half of the 90s, 2000s, 2010s and several more blasting arguably “the most culturally significant albums and music videos in this generation’s history.” As Flynn had so eloquently put it before subjecting everyone to Jojo Siwa’s Boomerang.

Julie had nearly died of laughter at the look of absolute horror on the phantom’s faces.

“We’re going to haunt you for this.” Reggie deadpanned. But by 1:13, Alex had a little grin on his face, barely holding back his own chuckles. Luka was still too stunned to speak.

Alex clicked his tongue, “You know what? She reminds me of Carrie.”

Julie snorted an ugly laugh, a cackle breaching her throat. How she wished Flynn could have heard it too.

The other girl looked at her in confusion. She laughed more trying to explain it. Julie couldn’t get the words out around her giggles, eventually just pointing to the screen and breathlessly stating, “Carrie.”

Flynn chuckled too, a hand clapping over her mouth as it sent her face first into the ground.

Thankfully, her best friend recovered faster from the joke, so that by the time it was over, she’d shifted the group back to the real music that defined the 2000s and 2010s, as well as a healthy mix of their upcoming and/or underground favourites, before they made the transition into movies and TV shows, some of which had so conveniently packaged away by other people into best moments compilations or character x being iconic for x minutes straight.

Julie and Flynn had made the excuse of a sleepover to her dad, said excuse also worked as an adequate reason to lock Carlos out of the garage when he came to harass them. It would be a bit weird to try and talk to the ghosts around him. What if he tried to play exorcist again?

They were curled in a blanket fort, the two living girls repainting their nails and talking quietly as they absentmindedly supervised the ghosts.

Alex had joined in on the Britney Spears choreo in the music videos, much to everyone who could perceive him’s amusement.

Reggie and Alex had in particular enjoyed Glee, though all three had been fixated on the screen as Flynn had played the video of Kurt and Mercedes performing 4 minutes. Julie had filed that information away for later.

Luka had sung along to Check Yes Juliet at the top of her lungs when it had come up on shuffle, and also to Stupid for You earlier. But now, Luka was completely and entirely fixated on the screen as they were half way through Pitch Perfect, a Lorde album playing in the background on an old cd player that her mom had stashed away. Julie had smiled sadly at the dahlia stickers on it.

Reggie had shed his leather jacket and was scribbling stuff down in a little notebook, having hijacked Julie’s old ipod to listen to After Laughter with one earbud, though he’d glance up to the screen every now and then.

It was quiet, homely, like those sleepovers where you barely had to speak but were still understood. The ones where you could do your own thing but still hang out together without feeling bad.

The sunset glimmered golden and pink and violet, casting the room in a dusky orange glow. The pale lilac of Julie’s bedroom walls washed out as the sun spread out against the sky. It was quiet, sort of, she laid flat on her stomach on her soft bed, eyes closed and in that state of half-asleep, a pen scratched at the paper with a fury.

It had been hours. Hours of silence, yet she was not alone. Out of the corner of her eyes, Julie spied Luka, kicking her legs back and forth, chewing on the end of her pen. She’d been there when Julie had left for school that morning, asking for somewhere quiet to work. Julie had let her in with a smile, and she had been there when she’d gotten home.

Though the ghost girl had greeted her with an absent smile and a few soft words, there was little else. Julie sighed loudly, pressing her face closer to her comforter. Luka just kept writing away. She’d already finished all her homework, spent at least an hour messaging Flynn non-stop, responded to Nick’s texts and scrolled through all her social media aimlessly, she’d even organised her pinterest – hell, it was almost dinner, and yet Luka still remained, writing with the same fervour, writing like she was running out of time.

She twiddled her fingers and peeked at the girl from the corner of her eye. Would it be rude to interrupt her? Maybe, but Julie gave in to the impulse. Luka would understand. They had that kind of easy going connection, anyways. Her dark brow furrowed. “Lu, you alright?”

“Hmm, yeah? Why, what’s up, Jules?” Luka turned her head instantaneously, sitting up with a goofy grin on her lips. Her phantom joints popped and crunched, she winced at the sound.

“You haven’t moved all day, have you?” Julie said, worrying her lip.

“I’ve been here all day?” She asked innocently, like it was nothing out of the normal. After a painfully long second, realisation crept over her. Dark honey coloured eyes widened, her jaw dropped.

Julie sat up on her bed, “Yeah, it’s seven o’clock. Aren’t you hungry?”

Luka shrugged. “No, not really.”

“That’s not healthy.” The words slipped bluntly from her tongue. She picked at her fingers. God, why did I say that? Stupid, stupid, stupid.

A half-smile bore from her lips, “Julie, baby, I’ve been dead for 25 years. That’s not exactly healthy either.”

For some reason, the comment made her snort out a laugh. It wasn’t that funny, yet it made it all the better, but at the same time it also made a part of her wilt, a flower of sadness blooming in her chest.

She had been dead for 25 years, she should have been 42 with a successful music career and a partner and maybe even kids. Her mind darkened, sullen storms behind her eyes as Julie thought to herself of everything that could have been. Luka was robbed of her life too early. Instead of living out her future, she was naught but a memory of the past. A ghost living on, literally laying on the floor in her bedroom. A coffin cracked since the gates were barred.

Julie’s smile felt sour on her face, yet she kept her grin. Luka smiled at the grin on her face and for a moment it felt a little more genuine.

Luka sat up, hands running through her long dark brown hair. It was always so soft looking, and just the perfect amount of mess and style, it was so unfair. She just wanted to run her hands through it. Julie pursed her lips. Luka’s expression flickered.

“Whatcha working on?” She asked, shrugging her shoulders, her mom’s old silver cardigan slipping down her forearms.

The other girl’s cheeks turned rosy, and she shut the book tightly. She waved a hand, “Oh, nothing.”

Oh really? Julie thought to herself as she raised a brow, she tapped her chin pensively. “Then what have you been doing all day?”

��Little bits of songs, some lyrics, some melodies, honestly, just whatever I can, ‘m excited for our next gig – it's got me inspired, I guess.” Luka shrugged, her tone almost bashful. She smoothed down her Nirvana shirt. She wasn’t wearing her beanie today.

Julie smiled at her. “Cool.”

The other girl nodded and responded with a question of her own. “How was your day?”

Julie brushed her curls over her shoulder before responding. She sat up on her bed, leaning back against the headboard. “It was alright, chem was good, not much to do, oh and we’re doing dance in PE. Lit was fun, we’re studying Romeo and Juliet so Mrs Danes put on the film.”

“That really old one from the sixties?”

“No, the one from the nineties.”

“There’s one from the nineties?”

“You’ve not seen it?” Julie asked.

“Must of been after… y’know.” Luka winced in return.

“Oh.” Julie frowned.

There was a moment of pause, the silence so loud there might as well have been the ever so cliche crickets chirping.

After another moment, Julie took it upon herself to break the silence, “We can watch it, if you want.” she said, already scooting over in her bed and opening up her laptop.

Her voice was soft as she replied, filled with a delicate warmth and almost melodic-quality. It reminded her of the honey her mother used to stir into chamomile. “I’d like that, Julie.”

Luka had a soft grin on her face, lips pulled apart to bear shiny teeth. A look like the one Julie had only ever seen her father stare at her mother with lingering in her eyes. Her eyeliner was a little more smudged than normal. Julie gave a final request. “Can you get the lights?”

“As you wish.” Luka poofed to the switch, blanketing the room in the inky darkness before proofing back, small explosion of light shining as she disappeared and reappeared beside her bed. Julie petted the space beside her and the ghost clambered onto the mattress, the bed not even dipping beneath the phantom weight.

Julie turned to her, “Did you just quote The Princess Bride at me?”

Luka shrugged the covers over them and nestled down beside her. Julie leaned towards her, chasing the slight warm tingle and the sublime sort of feeling sinking into her skin in the place of the warmth of another body. Julie hit play and the film graced the screen.

“Yeah— like half an hour ago.” A voice spoke softly. It was just loud enough for her to hear over the gentle breeze and sound of leaves rustling. Julie paused, nosy, though she’d never admit it to anyone.

What were they talking about? She wondered. She had been going to talk to her bandmates, ask some mildly important questions, -y’know, the normal things friends ask each other- she’d reasoned near all day, but now listening from beyond the door sounded much more interesting.

“To her mo..” The rest grew too quiet to hear… but the voice was Reggie’s.

Her fingers coiled against the white paint on the garage door.

“Yeah, she didn’t look too good.” It was Alex’s voice, Julie furrowed her brow. Was something wrong with Luka? Worry lined her stomach, a sickly ilk…, she strained her ears to hear more. “Haven’t seen her this out of it since Cobain died.”

Reggie sucked in a breath through his teeth, a hiss, “That can’t be good.”

Alex made a sound of agreement.

“It is coming up though.” Reggie whispered back, barely loud enough. It was a struggle to hear, even with her ear pressed against the door and every moral teaching since ever, though Julie couldn’t help but listen in.

There were a few moments and the boys drew to silence. She took a breath, leaned back and ran her fingers over her curls, pretending like she hadn’t just been eavesdropping.

“Hey guys,” She announced from the doors, to give them enough time to change topics without it being obvious she was snooping. Julie gave a wave as she stepped in and the two ghosts did their best to play natural – which was entirely antithetical, as the two of them were standing at least three feet apart, Alex whistling and Reggie avoiding eye contact.

Julie spared a glance to the ceiling, her mom’s floating furniture the same as it ever was. The poster of the moon and its phases still hammered into the same spot it always had been.

She furrowed her brows, what would be the best way to segway into her question? Julie wondered. She sucked in a breath. Better to just get it over with. “What’s Luka short for?”

The boys turned their heads sharply to each other, obviously not the question they were expecting.

A moment’s recovery and Reggie said. “Trust me Julie, you do not want to know.”

“But I do.” She replied with a shrug.

He gave a shallow laugh. “No, you don’t. She swore us to secrecy.”

Alex nodded his head. “Yeah. I had to make a blood oath just so she’d tell me.”

Reggie looked at him in shock, brow furrowed. “Really? I just used the yearbook.”

Julie blinked.

“Guys!” She shouted, exasperated. Alex, at least had the decency to look bashful.

“Luka doesn’t like her full name.” The blonde explained with a shrug, as if to say well what can you do? His hands in the pockets of his zip up hoodie. His brow furrowed, “Why do you need to know, anyway?”

Julie paused at the question. Blinking in a rapid succession as she tried to come up with something to say other than that Flynn had definitely not shown her an actually incredibly well drawn up contract for her and Luka in math, –She’d only told her about their movie night in Spanish, damn it!– Flynn had also definitely not hushedly asked for clarification on Luka’s full name for said contract either, citing that the ghost girl was only ever listed as Luka or Ms Patterson in articles. Julie had just shrugged at her meekly and fought the flush to her cheeks at the image of a bouquet of white dahlias, dusky pink carnations, pale blue forget me nots and sprigs of fresh lavender that had danced across her mind as the teacher droned on something about quadratics.

“Uhh… no reason. Just curious?” She replied nonchalantly. “I thought Luka must be short for something, I didn’t realise it was such a big secret. Is it embarrassing?”

Reggie and Alex shared a glance. “... No?”

“Then what is it?” Julie asked, her curiosity piqued.

“Sunset Curve loyalty stays first.” Alex blurted out.

Reggie nodded along with him, “Sorry, Julie.”

The girl frowned. “Fine. Why don’t I list names and you say yes or no?”

Alex frowned at the suggestion, but Reggie replied unsurely. “.. Okay?”

And so, Julie got to work listing names. “Lucy, Louise, Lucille, Lori?” Reggie shook his head. “Lou?”

“Lois?” A shake for no.

“Lorraine?” She tried again.

Reggie looked at her judgmentally. “Lorraine?”

Alex snickered. Julie scowled.

“Luella.”

“Lora.”

“Lana.”

“Lulu.”

“Louanne.”

“Lucas.”

“Lola.”

“Luna.”

“Lewis.”

“Luisa.”

“Lisa.”

“Nope. None of them.” Reggie shrugged and Julie scowled. How had she not said it? It was practically every L name remotely similar.. “Also, Luna? That’s a dog name, not a people name.”

Alex chuckled along with him, though he added pointedly to the other ghost, “Wait, don’t you have a cousin called Coco?”

Julie ignored the affronted look on Reggie’s face or the smug smirk on Alex’. Her jaw hung agape. “Really, none? Can you just tell me?”

“No.” The blonde frowned.

“Come on,” She whined, “A hint, at least.”

Alex sighed, though he began to sound out the beginning in almost slow motion, “Lucr-”

“Dude!” Reggie furiously wove his hand over his neck in a cut it off motion, scowling.

“Wait, there was an r there! I heard an r!” She shouted, pointing, “Let me get up babynames.com!”

“What?” They both shared a look.

Julie shrugged, “Babynames.com? It’s fairly obvious what it’s for.”

Alex kissed his teeth. “It’s weird that that’s a thing.”

Lou-cre she sounded out in her mind as she typed into the search bar.

“Lucrezia?” She questioned.

It was the way they looked at each other that told her all she needed to know. The almost bashful glance and pursed lips and little hesitant nod was all the admission she needed. Luka’s name was Lucrezia. Sunset Curve was three ghosts called Alexander, Reginald and Lucrezia – It was almost ironic, they sure had the names ghosts would have.

“Do not tell her we told you.” Alex whispered, raising his palm and gesturing to an almost invisible scar on his palm.

She grimaced at the phantom’s hand, though she batted the limb away from her face.. or at least tried to. Her hand phased through it. Julie quickly texted the name to Flynn. If it was the thing that got her interested in contract law, so be it.

Julie’s finger hovered over the name, gently pressing on it and bringing forth the entomology. “The feminine version of Lucretius, meaning profit or wealth, that’s nice… Alternate spellings.. No one really cares … Oh, notable figures! Who’s Lucrezia Borgia?”

“Me and Luka had to do a project about her in history class.” Reggie added noncommittally.

“Where is she anyway? We need to rehearse soon.”

They shared another look. Sharp and a little sad. Alex shrugged though, “She didn’t say. But she’ll probably be back soon.”

Julie frowned. “Oh, okay. We can still get underway without her,”

“Yeah, maybe do some warm ups.”

When she got back, about another half hour later, Luka seemed sad. She played with her usual easy expertise, yet there was a certain melancholy. She didn’t make eye contact, merely hid behind her bangs and pulled her beanie lower.

The slowly setting sun dipped behind a cloud, casting the room in shadow despite the dim yellow lights that lined the ceiling. She sounded a little raspier than the usual rasp she sung with, and seemed small, wavering on other notes, as though they were as fragile as glass and they’d break. The ghost wasn’t as energetic. Worry pooled in her stomach, an almost unsteady feeling in her bones and swirling in her stomach like a sickness.

Something was wrong with Julie’s ghost. Her voice was rough and nose a little red, and when Julie looked a little closer, beneath her smudged, grungy eyeliner her eyes were red and puffy. She frowned, forehead lines crinkled deep. All she could wonder was what happened to her ghost?

Later on, as they’d called it quits for the night, after the metronome had driven everyone a little stir crazy, Julie managed to corner her up in the loft.

She was curled up, knees to her chest on the floor. Julie sat to her side, Luka didn’t respond to direct confrontation well and sitting to her side made it feel a little less confrontational.

Julie rested her chin on her hands, “What’s wrong?”

Luka shrugged, though their eyes did not meet. “Nothing, I’m fine.”

“You look sad, Lu.” She tried again, “You can tell me.”

“I-“ She started, though cut herself off before she could say anything else. “I don’t know.”

She sighed, sinking deep beneath her flannel. It was quiet for a while, Julie fidgetted, still glancing at the ghost girl from the corner of her eyes and chewing at the inside of her cheek. After a moment of looking pensive, she began again, “I guess it’s kind of bittersweet, we’re just a few steps shy of our big break, again, I can feel it, Jules… but me and the boys died before we could, but here we are again. We’ve got a new band and a new lead singer, but we’re here. We’re on the edge of great.”

Julie was sensing a but. She nodded along, “But, you wish you got to do it the first time, to live your dream.”

Luka nodded, teeth digging into her lip. Julie blinked. It was their unfinished business after all, wasn’t it? Luka and Reggie and Alex had to play at the Orpheum so they could pass on fully. It wouldn’t last. It could never last. Shards of glass coiled in her belly. They’d have to go, all have to leave her too, pass on into the afterlife, heaven or wherever it was that the spirit went after death. She couldn’t love Luka, not when they both knew the end was so near. They always had. Built to end, born to die. Like Romeo and Juliet.

“Yeah… and I’m mad.” She admitted, quieter than she’d ever been. Her voice wavered with each word, emotion bubbling in each syllable and hands wiping over her face and cording through her hair. “I’m so fucking angry at Bobby-Trevor-whatever he wants to fucking call himself – he stole my songs! Over half of my book, gone like nothing. He stole all that was left of me and didn’t even give me a writing credit or my family royalties. He stole My name is Luka, but my name is Luka.” She ranted, tears in her eyes. “He made my life’s work amount to nothing and I can’t even confront him about it. A- and I’m angry I missed your dance and got you grounded and I’m sorry I hurt you. I wish- I don’t know,” Luka drew silent once more, fidgeting with one of her rings, “.. I wish we never had those street dogs..”

Julie nodded, her dark brown eyes peered into Luka’s. Her features painted with regret, tears unshed glimmering in her dark honey eyes. She just hummed - it made her own eyes well with tears, it sounded like the way her mother had used to comfort her.

It hurt in a way, even if she didn’t intend it to. She wishes they never met, a voice Julie had long since learnt to ignore hissed. A sadness circled in her stomach like a snake nonetheless.

Luka sniffed.

The slowly rising moon shone in through a window, pastel purple and twilight blue sky dotted with pink-orange clouds as the pale orb rose into the sky. Julie cracked her knuckles one by one.

The other girl sighed, a deep heavy sound. Luka reached out, as if to grasp her hand. “I didn’t mean to make it sound like that, Jules. You’re amazing, I’m so glad that you’re here, that I get to redo it all with you, Julie. Even if it wasn’t ideal, I love that I met you and get to work with you and your musical genius.”

Her lips quirked up and a warmth flooded her stomach, melancholy spots of sun streaking across the sky and dancing with the silvery moon. The warmth covered her from head to toe like a blanket danced in her belly like butterflies. “Thanks, Lu.”

Luka rested her head on her forearms, knees tucked against her chest. Julie wanted nothing more than to hug her in that moment, to wrap Luka in her arms and let her know she was not alone. Touch could not convey everything she wanted so desperately to say, nor could words, but she tried anyway.

“I love you, you know that, right?” - Is what should have come out, yet it didn’t. It was tied a way with a bundle of purple ribbon and caution tape. Don’t say it, don’t admit it, she can’t stay. Make it easier on yourself. She’s a ghost. She’s going to pass on to the other side. Don’t make it harder than it has to be. The voice screamed, hoarse and teary, like her dad’s speech at her mom’s funeral, like how her tia’s had been over a dinner none of them wanted to eat after everyone else had left.

“I like you, a lot.” Drifted from her lips instead. It sounded juvenile, immature, made her feel like a little kid, offering their crush pretty rocks and pulling pigtails - but it was all she had.

Lu’s face twisted sweetly, lips curved up and warmth deep in those dark honey eyes. An almost halo seemed to light up around her, like a gilded aura. Shimmery and barely there, but there none the less. “I like you too.”

She turned her head back to stare out at the distance, to the far horizon of where the sun had set over the distant sea. Julie reached out almost instinctively, hand wrapping around her shoulder. Warm skin on a barely there warmth that seeped through the fabric of her jumper.

Julie withdrew her hand sharply in response, yet she quickly lowered her fingertips to the back of Luka’s palm, soft textured and warm, but tangible in the way tulle was, light and airy and fragile.

“I can touch you.” She blurted out. Luka just hummed, lost in her own little world.

“Wait, what?” Luka whirled around, eyes lit with confusion and eyebrows furrowed with a sharp sort of attention. All melancholy that haunted her vanquished, at least briefly.

She shot to her feet, Julie followed.

Julie held her hands up, Luka followed. Their palms met and the ghost girl’s face exploded into a grin, breathtaking and airy, like the sun breaking through the cloud cover. Her gilded halo glimmered stronger, glowed brighter. A matching grin of her own opened on her face, like a flower in bloom.

Dark honey coloued eyes dipped down, was she looking at her lips? Julie blinked and found her own gaze trailing to the phantom’s lips. Her smile had turned soft, barely there and delicate. She leaned in, slowly, tentatively. Luka’s eyes fluttered shut.

Like that, their lips pressed together, gentle and sweet. Warm and tingly. Her stomach flipped, no, it did a full Olympic routine, butterflies swirling in every bone in her body.

They parted, and for a moment, all the vulnerability, if not more than before, had crept back onto Luka’s face. Her hands trembled. Julie was sure the same vulnerability was echoed on her own features.

“Is this okay?” The phantom asked, voice soft, the quiet meekness in her behaviour so different to the carefree, brave and fierceness of her usual self.

Julie found herself nodding as she pulled the taller girl in for another kiss. It was awkward, neither too experienced, but impassioned and warm and like the ones in the movies. Julie cradled Luka’s face in her hands, like the moon cradled the sun during an eclipse.

And rise through the night you and I

We will fight to shine together

The lyrics of the first song they’d sung together drifted through her mind. Glowing bright, growing strong.

The moon stared down on them, pale eyes gazing with a comforting chill, the familiar sense of home the celestial body provided. Luka’s hands still felt ghostly in a way, as had her lips. But real. But there. They could do this.

Luka wrapped her arms around her, the hug tighter than any other she’d ever experienced. Julie closed her eyes and squeezed her just as tightly in turn.

#jatp #julie and the phantoms #luke patterson #julie molina #jatp fic #my fics

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