#like nacho maybe but that's cause he hates himself | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lumosinlove · 4 years

Text

PREVIOUSLY ON RELIC KEEL

Dorcas meets up with Marlene at Marlene’s house and Luke is there—we figure out Marlene and Luke are cousins. Luke, as it turns out, has a neglecting mother (as well as a father who has been taken to jail, Marlene’s father doesn’t want her dating Dorcas because she’s from Salazar, and Marlene still hasn’t told Dorcas that she got into college.

Saint goes to wait for Logan at The Carrows in Salazar, where he restocks his Crucio supply.

Lily and James are painting one of the Potter’s old boats together. Lily is confused and frustrated—and in love with James. James, already hurt and trying not to cause himself further harm but also not wanting to lose Lily entirely, lets Lily kiss him but ends it there. They’re both nervous about college.

Instead of Logan, Saint runs into Luke first, who, as a last resort, is going to the Carrows for Crucio. Luke seems to have some surprises up his sleeve—a love for books that Saint shares, perhaps. When Saint does spot Logan, he makes Luke get into his car so as to not alarm him, and steals his dad’s gold watch in the process.

When Saint goes to fetch Logan, they run into Amycus Carrow, who tells Saint that Logan owes them for using their stash of Crucio without paying—but they won’t tell Saint or Logan how much Logan owes.

As a result, Logan gets it into his head that he can pay off his debt if he finds the treasure of The Voldemort, the one that Leo’s dad died looking for. Logan tries to get Saint to help by asking what he wants most, and when that doesn’t work, asking what he hates. Perhaps Saint is one for revenge, rather than need.

Sirius and Dorcas finally get Saint talking about Logan and his time at Saint Clair. Saint reveals that there were harsh punishments for bad behavior in Saint Clair. He also reveals that, for reasons he can only guess at, when kids turn 18, the age at which they could leave the orphanage, they decide to stay. Saint believes Crucio has something to do with it. He has memories of being extremely tired at night, and having vivid dreams—he doesn’t say what these dreams were about. Saint believes that many of the kids, if they arrived young enough, don’t know how to tell the difference between a Crucio-filled mind and a Crucio-free one. The scene ends with them receiving an invitation to a party at James’ house.

Logan finds Leo at his family’s workshop and says he wants to help him find The Voldemort. Leo wants to finish his father’s work, Logan needs the money—Saint shows up, seeming to have found his motivation, too, whatever it may be.

***CW: mentions of taking drugs and being drugged, brief mentions of blood, brief mention of death of a father***

part vi

In his dream, Finn was in a house. There was a woman sitting at the table, a man at the stove, and a boy leaning against the counter. Everything was murky at the edges, even their laughter.

Finn knew what family was. He’d read about it. He’d thought about it. With Logan, he’d felt it.

What he didn’t know, what he could never be sure of, was whether he’d seen it. What it looked like. What his looked like. Every time he thought he did…he’d wake up.

They had begun as pills—vitamins. But pills could be kept on the tongue.

Powder couldn’t be kept from food.

Finn, sweetheart, the woman said in his dream. How was school today? Is Logan still coming over for dinner?

Your boyfriend, the other boy teased, smiling. The man turned from the stove and laughed, reaching over to tussle Finn’s hair.

Yeah, Finn heard himself say. He is.

He looked at the woman—his mother, maybe—and she looked different than she had a moment ago.

We can play pick up, the brother said—but he wasn’t anymore. There was a sister, and now a brother again, now two brothers. And then his mother was at the stove and his father coming in from the yard, and then there was a younger sister sitting on his lap, and then he was the younger brother and his dad was coming home from work, briefcase in hand, closing the front door, giving his mother a kiss—

Finn woke up. His throat was dry and his eyes were, too. He used to wake up crying when he was younger. And Logan had been there, both of them not understanding.

Finn didn’t know if Logan understood now. Finn hadn’t figured it out until after he’d gotten Logan out, not entirely. Not about the Felix. Just about the kids that weren’t leaving. Something was keeping them here, and all he had wanted was to protect Logan and himself from that. Now that he knew that it was Felix that kept them here…Finn couldn’t see why they wanted it so bad. He didn’t want these false glimpses of family. He didn’t want Felix. He wanted Logan. Logan was real. His only comfort was that Logan was free of it. Of this place.

Finn blinked slowly up at the walls of the solitary room. His eyes were heavy. His head, his limbs. He hadn’t eaten anything in almost a week now.

And the dreams still came.

Maybe it wasn’t anything but his own head that was doing the imagining now.

He knew what was real, and this wasn’t it.

Luke looked across the deck at his mother in her lounge chair and pinched the Felix, within a small plastic bag within his pocket, to make it sift back and forth. A sound only he could hear. That, and the ice cubes in his mother’s whiskey. The sun was hot on his bare chest, drying the water droplets left from the pool quickly. He couldn’t stop rubbing the place where his father’s watch had been. Just thinking about it, about Saint and his quick fingers, made him snarl.

His mother’s ice cubes rattled.

“I want to start going through your father’s things,” she said airily from beneath her floppy sun hat. “There’s just so much of it. His papers, and all those fat books he has. God, that stupid treasure obsession.”

“It wasn’t stupid,” Luke replied as evenly as he could. “And he’s not dead. He’s coming back.”

His mother laughed. “Oh, sweetheart.”

She had cut her hair very short after Luke’s dad had been taken away. Luke couldn’t get the images out of his mind. Her, walking back through the door the next day, with her long blonde hair cut to her chin, curling just beneath her jaw. She had smiled at him and given her head a shake. Like it, mon lumière?

My light, she called him. When he was little she’d kissed him goodnight with that nickname every day, turning on the small nightlight that he kept—he still kept it. He’d tried not to, but every time, every night, the dark was just too dark. He was almost mad at her for giving it to him in the first place. If he had just gotten used to the dark…maybe he would be more prepared now.

Since his father, she’d been moving about the house like nothing had changed. Or, rather, like something had changed, and she was all the better for it.

His father’s leather chairs were gone from the living room, replaced by two baby blue couches that made Luke sick to look at. The pirate ship wheel was gone from the wall, too.

Luke didn’t know this mother.

Not even the island knew this woman. They knew the bake-sale-bringing, strict-rule-making, no-nonsense-grounding mother that Luke had known his entire life. He’d spent so many nights furious in his room after she’d caught him sneaking out or drinking.

And now, here his mother was, offering him a glass of whiskey at eleven in the morning.

Luke pinched the Felix between his fingers more harshly.

“No, thanks,” he said, and squinted back out towards the ocean.

“If you’re sure,” his mother said. “Well, I just said so because I’m tired of looking at it all.”

“Don’t get rid of it,” Luke said, trying to keep the pleading out of his voice. “I like his office. Mom, it reminds me of him.”

Luke had spent hours in there, laughing with his father, talking about history and literature, sneaking the rare puff on his cigar.

Then, they had taken him away, and his mother had gotten a hair cut, and suddenly Luke didn’t know anything anymore.

“Excuse me,” Luke mumbled, and left his mother in the sun with her drink and the pills that were no doubt already within. She was getting high more than he ever had now.

Luke could barely see anything inside the house after the bright day outside, but he didn’t need to see. He could have found his father’s study, and everything in it, blind.

He was still damp when he sunk down shakily into his father’s desk chair, the plush leather smelling of cigars, and took the bag of pinkish powder out of his pocket.

Just to see him again.

Just for something else to have happened.

Just not this.

Remus met Sirius in James’ kitchen again. The large glass doors were flung wide, opening out onto the porch and the pool beyond where a projector and screen were set up, along with chairs and blankets. Lily had set out the floating lanterns that the Potters put in the pool during their dinner parties and they floated idly back and forth in the evening breeze, giving out a soft yellow glow to mix with the dusky blue that came in from the ocean. The palm trees leaned over the house’s surrounding gate, swaying.

The counter between Remus and Sirius was covered in food. Pizza and nachos from Thomas’ family’s restaurant, chocolate chip cookies, chips and salsa, sodas and liquor.

“If you’re gonna do it, do it in the house,” Mrs. Potter always said.

Sirius looked the same, but fresh out of the ocean. His dark hair was damp, dripping onto the collar of his faded t-shirt. He looked like the ocean had the same effect on him as it did on Remus. Sirius’ eyes looked brighter. His shoulders looked more relaxed. He looked up from where he was pouring some whiskey into a cup and even managed an easier smile than usual.

“Hey,” Remus said, taking a paper plate from the stack. “How’s it going?”

Sirius’ eyes found his, then he looked down, stoppering the bottle. “Pretty good, you?”

“Pretty good,” Remus said, and then took a breath before testing the waters. “Had a nice sail this morning, clocked a shift at the museum, can’t complain.”

Sirius glanced up quickly, and Remus suppressed a smile as he loaded his plate.

“Oh,” Sirius began. “I mean, yeah, I saw.”

“You like sailing?”

Sirius nodded. “Kris lets me take one of his out sometimes.”

“Kris?” Remus questioned.

“Oh,” Sirius cleared his throat. Remus watched some of those ocean washed walls begin to go back up. “Yeah, he runs the boat rental shop over in Rowena. I guess you wouldn’t know given that you have…you know.”

Remus tried to side-step the awkward shift. Sirius seemed to have ideas about him already. Remus wished he had some clue about Sirius, beside his ocean-eyes and guarded expression.

“Well, that’s cool of him,” Remus said.

Sirius nodding from over the brim of his cup. “Yeah, it is.”

“Hey, well—” Remus shrugged. “I mean, I’m sure you do it on your own all the time but…you know if you ever wanted to…”

Sirius raised an eyebrow. Remus hadn’t finished his sentence.

“I mean, if you ever wanted to,” Remus began again, and was suddenly nervous. Sirius didn’t even like him. It looked as though he didn’t like Gods in general. He’d probably think this was charity. He’d probably hate Remus for offering. “Go out.”

Sirius’ eyebrow raised further.

“On my boat,” Remus said, all in a rush. His cheeks were hot. “Go sailing on—my boat.”

Remus didn’t know what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t for Sirius to do nothing at all. He stood there, frozen and off guard.

“Only if you want,” Remus said hopelessly. “I get up pretty early.”

“So do I,” Sirius said, and there was the slap of flip flops from behind Remus.

“Look who I found at the kid’s table,” Saint’s voice came, and he leaned on the counter beside Remus in his tank-top and shorts, taking a nacho off of his plate. “Hello, Remus Lupin. You’re looking flushed. Sirius, are you making him blush?”

“Um,” Sirius said.

Remus just shook his head and reached for a soda. He felt idiotic, and now more so, after being interrupted. He could hear the others talking and laughing over the movie and wished he was over there—wished he hadn’t tried to hit on Sirius Black, of all people. He didn’t know if Sirius liked men. He didn't even know Sirius.

“Re, Saint, Black, someone bring me back a drink!” Marlene’s voice came over the chatter. She was tangled with Dorcas on one of the blankets, leaning back into her chest.

“Why do you look like you’ve done something?” Sirius said, drawing Remus’ eyes back to him.

“Well, I haven’t yet,” Saint replied. “But just watch.” He leaned closer to Remus. “Fruit-Loop, I need you to get me into that museum of yours.”

Remus looked at him warily. “How do you know I work at the museum…”

“A friend,” Saint said.

Remus looked at the hand Saint was resting his chin on. He was fairly sure that was Luke’s father’s watch.

“Get you in?” he asked. “Why not just go?”

Saint looked at him like he was entirely put upon, like he couldn’t believe Remus hadn’t caught on yet. “Because I don’t think what I’m looking for is on the floor, as they say.”

“Saint,” Sirius said incredulously. “What…what?”

“Can you help?” Saint looked at Remus. “You know, I could just take it.”

“Let you take something from the museum?” Remus laughed. “No.”

“Fine,” Saint sighed and pushed up from the counter, taking Remus’ plate from him and beginning to walk away. “I was just giving you the option to make this a little easier.”

Remus stared after him, then looked at Sirius, who shook his head before Remus could even ask.

“No idea,” Sirius said.

Saint didn’t actually know that many movies.

The movie theater was fine, but old. Grimmauld didn’t have a TV. It definitely didn’t have a large projector screen and James’ laptop. There was dancing on the screen. The actors were some place warm. He didn’t recognize it.

Books, on the other hand. Books, he knew.

He spied Luke resting on his forearms, long legs stretched in front of him on a blanket near that back of their group, and smiled.

“Deveaux,” Saint said as he sat down, placing the plate between them. “Pleasure to see you again.”

Luke rolled his eyes. “Oh Jesus, who invited you.”

“The peace keeper named James Potter,” Saint replied. “Not sure what sort of peace he thinks there is to keep. I, for one, think he’s made it all up in his head.”

Luke grabbed Saint’s wrist, the gold of his watch beneath his rough palm.

“This is mine,” Luke said. “You little thief.”

“Is it?”

“Saint,” Luke’s eyes were dark in the dying light and flickering screen. “Give it back to me.”

“What will you give me?” Saint asked, and leaned in.

Luke snarled and let go. “I’m not bargaining for my watch. You stole it.”

“I steal a lot of things. Your mother has good taste, by the way. So does Mrs. Potter. Unlike some of these God mothers. Do you think they know their husbands buy them the fake stuff, and save the goods for their mistresses?”

“Fuck off.”

Saint broke part of a cookie off. “Those are your two favorite words.”

Luke just shook his head, his jaw tight and angry, eyes remaining on the screen. Saint chewed slowly.

“What’s this?” Saint asked, jerking his chin towards the screen.

He felt Luke look at him. “You don’t know?”

“I just asked, didn’t I?”

“What?” Luke scoffed. “It’s Mamma Mia. You’ve never seen this movie? Where the fuck have you been?”

Saint looked at him steadily.

“Right,” Luke nodded. “Fucked childhood, and all that.”

“That’s one way to look at it, thank you, tweedle.”

“What else haven’t you seen?”

Saint flicked the hand with the watch on it. “How the fuck should I know?”

Luke’s eyes followed the gold for a moment, and then he looked back out towards the others. Saint did, too, laughing softly. He could practically feel Luke trying to decide how to get the watch from his wrist.

“Irish wrist watch,” Saint whispered. “Irish wrist watch, Irish wrist watch…”

James was sitting with Lily. Marlene and Dorcas were to the side, dancing along to the music with Thomas. Sirius and Remus had followed him out of the house and were, to Saint’s surprise, sitting awkwardly beside each other. Sirius seemed to be asking about the movie, too, and Remus explaining it to him.

Fucking Gods, Saint thought as he looked around at the glowing pool, the mountain of food in the kitchen. Fucking Gods and all their careless lives.

He wondered if maybe he should have brought Leo along, if his sob story about his dad might have gotten Remus to help.

Remus works at the museum, Leo had said. Me and Logan heard him say, him and Layla—her family owns it. If there’s any chance of seeing another copy of that map, it’s the History Museum.

“I’ve never seen you be quiet for this long,” Luke’s voice interrupted.

“You’re the one who ruined it.”

Luke reached between them for the plate and plucked up the other half of Saint’s cookie. “I was just saying.”

“I’ve never seen you not glower for this long—oh, there it is.”

“Give me my watch back.”

“For what?”

Luke paused, then said, “Books.”

That made Saint look at him. Luke’s eyes were on Saint’s wrist, but Saint remembered him in the car, reading James’ copy of Shelley. Saint felt stormy again, a familiar building in his chest that always simmered.

“Excuse me?”

“Give me my watch and I’ll give you—”

“So, you are bargaining.”

“You seem to like hand-outs,” Luke bit back. “You take books from James, don’t you? Not to mention this,” Luke shifted towards Saint. “You take a lot of things from people you claim to hate.”

“Ouch,” Saint said, and it really had hurt. Waste of space. He smiled.

“I can do you better,” Luke said. “Tell me what you want.”

“You mean your daddy could?”

Luke’s expression went cold all over. Lightning, over the strike of green in his right eye, nestled among the deep brown. “What’s his is mine now.”

Saint wondered if Luke had Crucio in his system right now. He didn’t have the tired look of it. Come to think of it, Luke never had that look, not like Logan did. He must take it at night, Saint thought. To sleep, maybe. Some people used it like that. Some people thought it let them control their dreams.

Saint didn’t think anyone could control their dreams, their wants and wishes—waking or asleep. Even if they wanted to.

“Was this his, too?” Saint looked at the watch face.

“God, just—” Luke broke off, shoulders tense, and rubbed his eyes. “What the fuck do you want? Money? Just tell me and give it back.”

Saint checked the time, then looked back at Luke.

“One-thirty. My bedtime. And I don’t need shit from you,” Saint said breezily, and patted Luke’s thigh before pushing himself up from the blanket.

“Saint,” he heard Sirius say faintly, but nothing from Luke, and he kept walking through the Potter’s house.

Sirius was almost angry at Saint. Or, maybe, he was angry at himself for wanting to stay at the Potters. He knew why he had been invited, why James had wrapped an arm around him, told him to help himself to the food, why Remus had talked to him, sat beside him, offered…well, he wasn’t sure what Remus had offered.

Pity.

At least, he thought he knew.

Though talking to Remus had felt far from pity. Remus laughed with his eyes squeezed shut, and it had taken Sirius off guard each and every time. He was angry at Remus Lupin. He was angry at him for his words when they were eleven.

Are you okay? Sirius, right?

As if he didn’t know Sirius’ name, and of course Sirius wasn’t okay.

But now Remus Lupin was talking about his boat, and this movie, whatever it was, that Sirius had never seen, and smiling at him as though he’d done nothing wrong.

Or, at least he had been, before Sirius had followed a blank-faced Saint out of the house.

“What are you doing?” Sirius asked Saint’s retreating back as they jogged down the steps to the driveway.

Saint had merely held up something that jingled over his shoulder. The car keys glinted as much as the watch on his wrist which Sirius knew wasn’t his own.

“Taking Luke’s car.”

“Saint, come on,” Sirius sighed. “I mean—that looked pretty fucking civil. Non?”

Saint turned on him. “Oh, yes, and you could hear every word? Non.” Saint kicked one of the tires. “Fuck the Gods, and fuck their shiny cars, too.”

Sirius shook his head. “What’s this—museum stuff? What’s going on? Saint, just talk to me—”

“You took Lupin’s side,” Saint breezed as he chirped Luke’s car. “You don’t get to know.”

That stopped Sirius in his tracks. He took a step back. “Since when do we do that?”

Saint slammed the door, sitting in the driver seat.

“Not tell each other things?” Sirius pushed forward. “Since when?”

Sirius watched him through the rolled down window as he ran his hands over the dark leather of the seats, the shiny black of the dash.

“There’s a lot you don’t know,” Saint said softly. “There’s a lot I don’t know.”

“What do you want from the museum?” Sirius tried again. “Is this about…Saint Clair? Logan? Ever since he showed up—”

“Orphan!” came from the house just moments before the front door blew open. Luke zeroed in on Saint behind the wheel instantly, sandy hair casting shadows over his forehead and eyes. “What the fuck is up with you and taking my shit?”

“See you at home, sweetheart,” Saint said to Sirius, and started the car. Luke brushed past Sirius and tugged fruitlessly on the locked door.

“Hey,” Luke only just managed to bang on the back window as Saint screeched out of the Potter’s drive. “Saint!”

Sirius watched as Luke stood there in the humid night, watching his own taillights disappear. He cursed again, running a hand through his hair, and then turned.

Luke looked at Sirius. They stayed a few feet apart in the driveway.

“Do you know where he’s going?” Luke asked, breathing heavily.

Sirius did not like Luke Deveaux.

“No,” he said, and turned back into the house to find Remus.

Leo looked over at Logan. They were sitting on the curb outside The Lion, waiting for word from Saint, and Logan was quiet. Not that Logan wasn’t usually quiet, but this felt different. He was picking at an old scab on his knee, taking his hat off and putting it back on again.

“Are you okay?” Leo asked, and Logan didn’t look up when he nodded.

“Is it,” Leo hesitated. “Finn?”

That snapped Logan’s head up. “How did you…”

“You said his name to me,” Leo said softly. “The first night we met. You were…” but Leo didn’t really know the word. High? Hallucinating?

“I know what I was,” Logan sighed.

“Do you want to talk about him?” Leo asked. “I mean, you don’t have to I just…I know it helps to talk about my dad sometimes.”

“Finn isn’t dead,” Logan said harshly. He took his hat off, pushing his hair back, and put it back on again.

“I know,” Leo said. “I know, I just meant—never mind.”

Leo, in a way that Logan would probably hate him for, was dying to know more about Saint Clair. Saint had been around long enough that Leo sometimes lost track of the fact that he’d escaped. Others were around the island, doing work and looking normal enough that Leo could forget about them, too.

But he couldn’t forget Logan. Logan, who was tortured and rough and missing someone in a way that Leo could feel, that Leo could recognize.

Beautiful, with his green eyes and rare smiles, that Leo knew he should steer well away from. Because Finn. Finn sounded like—

“He’s my—” Logan began, then shook his head. “I don’t know what to say. Boyfriend sounds—small.” Logan shifted, looking at Leo. “He’s all I have. He’s all I’ve had for a long time. Since I can remember. My entire life.” Logan ran a hand over his face, and when it came away, he looked exhausted. “I’m just repeating myself, but do you get it?”

“Yes,” Leo said. “I get it.”

“And now he’s—and I’m out here, and…”

“And you want to get him out, too,” Leo finished for him. Logan looked stricken.

“He got me out,” he said softly. “When it came down to it, he chose me. But I didn’t have time to choose him. It was all over so fast.”

Leo rubbed the colorful bracelet on his wrist. Boyfriend. “And when you say you’re looking for him…Waiting for him…”

“I know where he is,” Logan said. “And the waiting part was a lie. I’d be stupid to wait. I need to get him. He—“ Logan swallowed. “There’s a courtyard. Where I can usually see him. But he hasn’t been there.”

Leo watched Logan’s throat bob again. He was picking at his nail beds, at the scab. Leo lay his palm over his restless fingers, and Logan looked up, eyes bright.

“He needs my help.”

“Okay,” Leo nodded. “Okay.”

“Lovers on the wharf,” came a voice, accompanied by thumping music. Saint pulled up in a sleek looking car—that definitely wasn’t his own. He leaned out the window, grinning. “Deveaux has terrible taste in music.”

“You stole this car,” Leo said dryly. “Didn’t you.”

“Yes I did, Knut. Yes, I did.”

“Let's go,” Logan said. He sniffed and picked up his backpack.

“Who’s got shot gun?” Saint asked.

Remus stopped in front of the gallery heading that read Madness On Hogwarts.

He hadn’t asked his mother about it yet. He wasn’t even sure how to ask. But, there it was. The name Lupin was there. He didn’t have to look far. It was there, telling about the slow demise of the mind.

Part of Remus had always wondered when his own would begin.

Another part of him felt like it already had.

He was, after all, standing beside Sirius Black on the dark museum floor, looking for a rogue orphan from Saint Clair.

“It seems pretty quiet, to me,” Remus said. “You really think he came here tonight?”

“He stole Luke’s car, didn’t he?”

Remus snorted. “Yeah, but…”

“So, that’s very get-away-ish of him. I mean he blamed it on hating Gods but—“

Sirius cut off, swallowing, realizing what he said.

“It’s okay,” Remus said and smiled a little. “I…it’s okay.”

Sirius cleared his throat. “It’s just that ours doesn’t always start up.”

Remus’ tried to ease the tension. “Get-away-ish?”

Sirius just shrugged and ducked his head, but Remus thought he was maybe smiling, too.

“Why didn’t you tell James where we were going?” Sirius asked instead, shining his flashlight over a model of a great merchant ship, its sails molded to seem like they were filled with wind. Remus could practically feel it.

It was Remus’ turn to duck as they walked around the exhibits, listening. “James Potter and sneaking anywhere? I don’t know about that.”

Sirius did laugh this time, and he looked almost surprised with it. “I guess you’re right.”

“Besides, he and Lily looked cozy.”

Sirius nodded. “Yeah, that’s been almost happening ever since I can remember.”

“Right,” Remus laughed. For a moment it felt like they did know each other. As though they had been going to school together since they were little. As though Sirius hadn’t left school one day and never returned.

“Can I…ask you something?” Remus said hesitantly.

Sirius made a non-committal sound, and Remus figured that was as good as he was going to get.

“When you left school,” Remus began, then hesitated. “Well, I guess I mean, how? Didn’t your parents…or the police, even…”

“My parents don’t want a son like me,” Sirius replied easily. “As far as the law goes…I’ve never been bothered. I assumed they told the Academy I was being homeschooled. When I say someone like me, I guess I mean they don't want anything to ruin their reputation.” Sirius sighed. “Whatever that may be. Otherwise, I don’t know.”

“But you weren’t homeschooled,” Remus said. “You’re in The Hollow?”

Sirius’ smile was a little challenging. “Surfing every morning. Hanging out with my friends every night. I get work where I can, but I don’t need much.”

Remus nodded. “I guess that doesn’t sound too bad. I guess you’re not going to college, then.”

“That stuff isn’t for everyone,” Sirius replied.

“Oh,” Remus began. “No, I wasn’t, like, judging, I was just—”

That was when they heard a thump and a curse. They jolted, looking at each other.

“The archives,” Remus whispered.

“He did say it wasn’t on the floor.”

Remus took off towards the back rooms, Sirius on his heels. He fumbled with his keys for a moment, then shoved the correct one into the lock and pushed the door open.

“Saint,” Sirius panted.

Remus looked from the pried open window, to the boy peaking his head through the glass—Logan, he remembered—and then, finally, to Saint, crouched on the floor and pulling flat drawers open, one after another.

Saint just looked over his shoulder at them, flashlight between his teeth, then back to the file drawer he was rummaging through.

“If you were hoping to catch me, maybe don’t leave your big flashy car out front, Lupin.”

Remus narrowed his eyes. He hadn’t even thought of the car.

“Look, I can’t let you steal something,” Remus said.

Saint scoffed. “Look, if it means that much to you, I’ll put it right back, we just need to look at it.”

Logan dropped in through the window, then, hissing as he cut his forearm on what looked like a stray nail. He looked up, seemingly mindless of the blood dripping near his fingers.

“We’ll just take a picture,” Logan said. “I promise.”

“Who says I’ll let you?” Remus said.

“Because I’m limber like that,” Saint said. “I can get in and out of here, and I can certainly slip through your sailor hands.”

“Yeah, is that something you worry about?” Sirius said, and Saint’s head snapped towards him. The light fell over Sirius’ face. “Being able to make the escape?”

Remus thought the words sounded menacing, at least he thought Saint thought that, but Sirius’ expression was softer. Worried, even.

“Very funny,” Saint finally replied, and his smile had a bite to it around the light. “Ha, ha.”

Saint Clair, Remus realized. Sirius was talking about Saint Clair. He looked at Logan again. Logan was watching Saint almost eagerly.

“What are you even looking for?” Remus asked.

There was a grunt as a third boy piled in—Leo, from The Lion.

“Leo?” Sirius said, looking between the three of them. “Jesus, Saint, what’s going on?”

“We’re looking for something,” Saint’s words were marred by the metal between his teeth. “Merde, aren’t you listening?”

“I told you no,” Remus said.

Saint pulled open another drawer. “And I told me yes.”

Remus and Sirius looked at each other. Remus shook his head, at a loss, and Sirius sighed.

“At least tell us what it is,” Sirius said, and went to crouch beside Saint.

Remus watched as Sirius put a hand on his back, low and firm. It was a familiar and comfortable gesture, and Remus thought Saint maybe pushed into it a little.

Remus tilted his head, looking at the soft splay of Sirius’ fingers.

“A map,” Leo said, and Saint all but hissed at him. “What? We’re not taking anything. I don’t even know why we broke in, really, we should have just asked—”

Saint took the light from his mouth. “I’m nothing if not a showboat.”

“Anything?” Logan asked, peering closer to what Saint was looking at. Saint had two papers in his hands, but he tossed them down roughly—too roughly for Remus’ liking.

Saint ignored Logan with a long sigh, and turned to Remus, bumping one of the flat drawers closed with a hip. “We are in need of a treasure map, Lupin.”

Remus blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t tell me the mad-house you grew up in didn’t have tales of The Voldemort.”

Remus felt his blood spike, heat draping itself around his neck. “Don’t fucking—”

“What Saint means,” Leo stepped forward, eyes apologetic. “I…my dad was looking for it. He was close and…and he’s—Saint and Logan agreed to help me find it. I didn’t know we’d be doing this. They know how much it means to me—”

“If your dad’s close to finding it, why not just use his map?” Remus asked.

Leo glanced up at him, then down at the drawers. “It went down with him and his boat.”

“Oh,” Remus stuttered out. “I…”

Leo just shook his head. “I remember what it looks like. I’ll know it when I see it.”

Saint waved his hand, and Remus noticed Luke’s watch again. “What’s it going to say, Knut, the ancient treasure lies here?”

“It’s not to The Voldemort,” Leo said. “It’s to a trading post, a stop point just off of Hogwarts. In the Cradle. People thought that it might have been a sort of cover operation, that maybe someone found the gold and was using it as a way to smuggle it out unnoticed—”

“So, it’s not even there?” Logan asked.

Leo splayed his hands helplessly. “I don’t know!”

Remus looked at Sirius when he laughed. “You’re kidding.” Sirius knocked Saint’s shoulder. “You’re looking for the fucking Voldemort? Since when?”

“You’re the one who wants to leave this island,” Saint said lowly. “To do that you’ll need money.”

Sirius’ expression changed in the dim light. The moon was high now, and he looked silver and shadowed—and surprised.

“What?” Sirius said faintly. Saint wouldn’t meet his eye. “But you don’t want—”

Logan stepped forward, eyes still on Remus. “Look. We’re not crazy. Leo wants this for his dad, and I—I need to help someone. I told you when we met, didn’t I?”

“You said you were looking for someone,” Remus replied.

Logan nodded quickly.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Saint said and rose, turning to Logan and pointing the light towards his chest like an accusing finger. “Hold every single one of your horses. This is not about Saint Clair, and this is not about Finn. This is about your stupidity and The Carrows.”

“No,” Logan said. “This is about getting Finn out.”

“The Carrows,” Leo repeated, looking at Logan. Logan glanced at him, then rubbed a hand over his face.

“Then help me with Finn,” Logan said, louder this time. “I made a mistake with The Carrows, fine, but are you going to be my next one?”

“No,” Saint all but snarled back.

Logan shoved him, hard, sending Saint crashing back against the files, making them rattle.

“Hey,” Sirius said lowly, and then he had a hand wrapped up in Logan’s shirt, pushing him back.

“Stop,” Remus said, putting his hands out. “Jesus, not here. Maybe you all don’t give a shit, but everything in here is old. It’s precious.” He turned to Leo. “A map, you said a map, just tell me so we can all leave.”

Leo bit his lip, gesturing towards the drawers. “These are labeled?”

Remus nodded and watched them all warily as Leo took the light from Logan and crouched to read the writing on the drawers.

Saint and Logan were still staring at each other. Remus could practically feel some unsaid words between them. Sirius had let Logan go, but Remus didn’t want to keep the three of them in this room together for much longer.

“Here,” Leo said suddenly, and the sound of one of the rattling drawers filled the room. “It’s—oh.”

“What?” Logan asked, shoving around Sirius’ body towards the drawer. Remus followed, glancing back once. Saint and Sirius had their heads close. Sirius had his hand on Saint’s neck, and they were talking softly but quickly to each other.

Remus looked away.

The label read, Cartography. C. 18th. Commerce Port, but in place of anything that the label suggested, was an index card with neat handwriting on it.

On loan: Victor Deveaux

“Deveaux,” Saint said, clucking his tongue. “Deveaux, Deveaux, Deveaux…”

“No,” Remus heard Leo breathe.

“That’s Luke’s dad,” Remus said. He stared at the name. “Oh. That’s…”

“What?” Logan asked. “What do you know?”

Remus shot him a look. He seemed even more on edge than a few moments ago.

“I’d sort of forgotten with everything. Everything that happened to Luke this past year, but,” Remus said. “Luke was always sort of obsessed with the treasure. Only because his dad was, though. When we got older, me and James sort of made fun of him for it, but when we were younger, Mr. Deveaux used to hide little trinkets or candy for us somewhere in the house, and then write out clues for us to work through.” Remus smiled at the memory. It was happy, and it was sad. It seemed like too long ago. “It was fun.”

“So, he has the map,” Logan said. “Can you take us there?”

“Can you relax, speed racer, thanks,” Saint snapped.

“We need the map,” Logan barked back.

“It’s almost three in the morning,” Remus said.

“All the better,” Saint replied and closed the window they had come through before opening the museum door.

“Can’t this wait until morning?”

“Luke won’t just hand it over,” Sirius offered.

Remus turned to him. “What do you care?”

“Saint cares.”

Remus blinked. Sirius was all walled up again, eyes silver.

“Lead the way, Sailor,” Saint said.

Luke’s house was large and pristine, but it looked abandoned somehow. Saint stared up at the white walls, the stone chimney that he couldn’t imagine ever got used. He wondered if it was as grand as the Potters’ house inside. It certainly looked that way, manicured and vast. But it lacked the warmth. It seemed to shift in the night wind.

“We can’t just knock,” Remus broke the silence.

“We should wait,” Leo said somewhat nervously.

“I’ve got this,” Saint replied, chin tilted up towards the large house’s windows. “Which one’s his?”

Remus laughed. “You’re not serious.”

“No, that’d be him,” Saint said, clapping Sirius on the back—who rolled his eyes. “Now, tell me.”

“What are you going to do, climb up the drain pipe?”

Saint shucked his flip flops into the grass. “Yes, sir.”

“You could fall,” Sirius warned.

Saint looked at the windows, set deep into the house’s frame. The rough painted sides and stray vine climbing the surface. He looked at the tilted roof. “I won’t. Now which room is his?”

Remus, behind Saint, was quiet for a long time. Saint kept his eyes forward, squeezing his hands into fists, and then letting them out again. His heart beat hard in his chest, as if remembering a memory his mind wouldn’t.

“He keeps a light on,” Remus finally sighed, and pointed. “That window there.”

The metal and stone were cold beneath Saint’s feet. The pipe was sturdy, but every time it creaked he could hear the others whisper from below. The higher Saint climbed, the more the wind picked up. He closed his eyes letting it push his hair off of his forehead. The summer night was humid, and the moon was high.

“Saint?” he heard Sirius whisper from below.

Saint didn’t respond, just kept climbing. That was how climbing worked. Maybe, if you were lucky, you could rest, but the real part was pushing through the aches and the fear.

What do you hate so much that you’re helping us? Logan had asked him in the car on their way to the museum, and Saint had said something silly, as he always did. He’d smiled. Logan hadn’t laughed, but anyone else would have.

Saint thought of Sirius’ hand, low on his back in the archives rooms.

But you don’t want to go, Sirius had been about to say when Saint told him why they needed the gold. But you don’t want to leave.

If they had been alone, Saint might have actually told him the truth.

But you do, he would have said. If there was anything that wouldn’t be wasteful, it was getting Sirius Black off of this island and away from his own, terrified self. Saint might be a waste, but Sirius wasn’t.

Saint reached the roof and crouched, breathing hard. He could see the light from Luke’s room below him, the slates of the slight, pointed arch above the window frame. It was a short drop. He made it soundlessly, glancing down at the dark shape of the others as he swung himself onto the wooden sill. He could see the source of the light now.

It was a small bulb, plugged in low on the wall by the bed. Simple and cheap, with some sort of picture lit up. A sea shell, Saint thought. It didn’t illuminate much, but Saint could see Luke’s face. He was turned towards the window, on his stomach with an arm beginning to fall over the side of the mattress. He was bare to his waist, where the sheets pooled along his lower back.

Saint pushed at the top of the window until it cracked enough for him to curl his fingers beneath the frame. Luke didn’t stir, not even when Saint let the humid night air meet the AC, and set his bare feet softly on the hardwood floor.

Saint still didn’t know if Luke was a snoop, but he certainly knew that he was.

The floor was stacked with books. They were shoved over to the sides of the walls, near the desk beside a tangle of laptop chords and phone chargers. The bedside table was littered with old water glasses and coffee mugs, clothes occupied more of the floor than the open closet. There were small, empty plastic bags littered throughout the room. Saint picked up one, looking at the few grains of remnants.

He let it flutter back to the floor.

Everyone needed to control something, or at least think they did. Saint, for one too many times since Logan arrived, let himself think about Saint Clair. They’d taken clarity from him. He didn’t know how The Voldemort would get him that back—maybe nothing would. It would certainly take Sirius away, the only constant.

But everyone needed to control something. Or at least think they did. If Saint was going to be alone, he wouldn’t let it sneak up on him. Not again.

Saint was as good at tricking himself as he was at tricking others. And he liked gold. Part of him liked Luke, too. Stubborn. Mean. Beautiful. That would never change.

Saint looked down at Luke’s sleeping form. He looked younger in his sleep. He was dreaming. Saint could tell, there was a flicker beneath his eyelids. The bruise on his cheek was slowly fading, but a faint purple still graced his cheek.

“Tricky bastard,” Saint said aloud, and Luke stirred, cracking an eye open.

There it was. The sleepy look of Crucio, the haze. The lack of will, or maybe the abundance of it.

“You,” Luke mumbled. “You’re…”

His eyes flickered over Saint’s shoulder. Saint wondered who he was seeing. Saint crouched beside him and stroked a hand through his hair. Luke leaned into it. A loved one, then.

Luke blinked at him, and his expression shifted. He scrambled backwards, cursing.

“Saint,” Luke said, blinking. Saint laughed. He sort of liked that Luke couldn’t tell if he was really there or not.

“Hello, tweedle,” Saint said, and held up Luke’s father’s watch. “I need something from you.”

#relic keel lumosinlove #wolfstar #saint #Luke deveaux #jily #dorlene #harry potter #wolfstar fic #cw: drugs #cw: mention of death #lumosinlove ocs #lumosinlove

165 notes · View notes

peachbearies · 3 years

Text

Pussy Fairy. E.Jaeger

𑁍┊synopsis: something about y/n with pink glittery eyeshadow made him go feral, now all he wants to do all day is lay in between her thighs.

𑁍┊Genre(s): Smut

𑁍┊Pairing: aged up(21)!Eren X F! Reader

𑁍┊Warning(s): Face Sitting, Overstimulation, praise kink, fingering, body worship, hair pulling, squirting, minimal spanking, dom! eren modern au eren.

𑁍┊Proofread: Yes / No. (to my best abilities)

Eren asked y/n to hang out with his friends, just an infrequent hangout he reckoned, he didn’t think something so modest would make him so fragile in his knees. Y/n was sitting at her vanity feeling empirical she grabbed her favorite eyeshadow palette along with her pressed glitter, getting an inspo from a fairy core post on her timeline she concluded to imitate this look. A delicate pink glittery eyeshadow look paired with soft peachy blush from cheek to cheek, soft orange highlight on her nose, and cheekbones. Eren was trying to contain himself when she got in his car smelling like sunflowers and clementines, so simple but effective.

Eren was at an expense for utterances. Y/n chuckles before pecking his lips “what happened love?” eren positions his hands firmly around her inner thigh “you” is his straightforward alibi “me? Did I do something wrong? Is my outfit not okay?” y/n started to become subconscious, but that's not what eren denoted, quite the contrary actually “no, you look intangible darling you eternally do, just this reliance of you trying new things has my heart scampering like when we first kissed” saying no more he puts the car in drive to meet Armin and the rest of his friends at an arcade.

═════°∴,*⋅✲══❏══✲⋅*,∴°═════

Once they made it to the arcade, Armin told them to just walk in they've paid for their cards with fully loaded chips on them, eren holding her hand tightly kissed her knuckles as they walk to find his friends. Y/n was only close to two of his friends and those are the ones he mainly hangs with. Armin and Mikasa. In the beginning, she thought Mikasa hated the idea of her hanging with eren, but come to the realization she was just overprotective of his wellbeing. Sliding in the booth eren throw his arm around her snuggling her close to him.

Whenever they would hang out with a group of his friends he knew how anxious she would get and always kept a hand on her to remind her he's there and that nothing will hurt her. “You guys came later! Was eren taking too long to get dressed?” jean poked fun at him.

Their relationship was always fun to watch. It was either they cursed and quite literally fought each other, or they were giving tough advice and playing like competitive brothers. Eren scrunched his eyebrows giving jean a cut-throat stare to which jean chuckled “quite the opposite” y/n answered “I was doing my makeup” Jean looked back at her giving off a genuine smile “it looks good, you look like a fairy” smiling y/n informs him that's the look she was going for eren removed his arm from her shoulder to go get a drink.

═════°∴,*⋅✲══❏══✲⋅*,∴°═════

The emotion in his head was making him dizzy he felt jealous, lust, love everything all at once like a booster shot. His mind was shortly interrupted by a hug around his waist, the aroma clouded his mind yet again. “Hey darling” he expressed, using his two fingers to remove the hair from her lipgloss. “Hi! Baby” she smiled eren was caressing her face so delicately as if she was a glass vase. She was perfect in his eyes compared to the shit he's done in the past, she's innocent like a bunny.

But she's changed him for the better, grabbing her hand he twirls her around seeing her skirt follow in sync with her body the combat boots she wore with the lace socks popping out the blue glitter-laced tank top she was stunning today. Eren dipped his head into her neck leaving soft wet kisses onto her now burning skin, her fingers petting through his long chocolate locks. “I love you” eren repeats on his skin “I love you too” his emerald eyes sparkling under the led lights of the arcade. Eren forgot about the beverage he ordered until it was sat right in front of him.

“What did you get?” she asked, eren sips his drink trying to remember what he ordered under impulses “I think I ordered a jolly rancher drink, with vodka” she looked up at him as he tried a few more sips to conjure his memory. “Yeah, that's what it is” she tried to grab the straw to taste but eren just kissed her lips over and over.

“That's all you get to taste I'm not letting you drink” eren smirks when he sees her pout face, with his free hand he grabs hers telling her to lead them to the game she wants to play. Seeing a ghostbusters game she drags him in the booth. He loved the excitement on her face it meant he was doing an amazing job has a boyfriend and a friend to her, and that's all he ever wanted. “Baby, this is my favorite game, I used to play this all-time mainly by myself cause my old friends didn't like this game” Eren's blood started to boil at the mention of her old friends.

They were toxic, but y/n wanted to see the good in people even though it was hurting her deep inside. Eren couldn't sit and watch them destroy the person he loved, even though they were friends at the time. “Your old friends were walking disappointments, dare to look down upon someone else when they're no better” cupping his cheeks in one hand, she kissed him softly before softly tugging his lips between her teeth. Though he knew she meant it innocently to calm him down, it made him wanna swerve on the highway to get home.

“Calm down babe, I know you hate hearing about them, but trust me I'm happy with y'all” her smile gave eren goosebumps, every time he saw that smile he thought to himself ‘is it humanly possible to fall deeper in love? Even though you're wrapped around their finger?” eren kissed her forehead in response. “Cmon get ready for us to win” his competitive voice commended.

═════°∴,*⋅✲══❏══✲⋅*,∴°═════

After winning the ghostbusters game, here they were at a claw machine where eren was determined to getting y/n a plushie. “You know you don't have to right?” she reminded him but everyone knew, with eren video games and arcades meant competition in his mind. Even when he was courting y/n it was a competition in being a better person for her, changing his old ways. To stop drinking so much, missing out on college parties even though she told him he could. He loved her and wanted to be the best boyfriend he could. Watching as the claw landed on top of the smiling corgi with a strawberry hat on she gasped when it was dropped into the box.

“I remember you wanting this from last time we came here” smiling she stands on her toes to kiss him softly. “Thank you, baby” after all the fun was done y/n was sitting on Eren's lap in the booth while they ate nachos. Jean looked over Eren's shoulder to see an old friend of theirs also known as y/n’s ex. But eren was too busy talking about his college class with Armin. But y/n had a keen eye so she followed his and landed on the source, she knew better than to let eren find out so she turned back which caused eren to caress her thigh over his large hand. “Something the matter love?” he asks her “no baby, I just saw a motorcycle game that looked cool, but I'm getting tired now” she started picking the piece of cotton from his shirt out of his hair.

“Yeah me too, let's go home y'all” jean suggests, they all begin walking out of the arcade bidding goodbyes to everyone just what she was avoiding her ex parked right next to Eren's car. She looked up at him but his eyes were burning holes in his chest and her ex wasn't backing down either. “Hello, eren and y/n, you look beautiful y/n why didn't you dress like that when we were together?” he questioned, eren gave him a sharp knife gaze to which her ex chuckled.

“Take it easy, I can't compliment her? Is that a crime?” he jokes eren smugly leaned against his car and across his chest “no, but to watch you suffer I'd gladly catch a case” his devilish smirk cascaded across his face. Her ex started to tremble at the expression on her boyfriend's face y/n grabbed his hand “can we go home?” she asked politely “yeah, let's go home dear” the aggression in his voice sent rivers in between her legs and shivers down her spine. Opening the door for y/n she got in after letting out a soft sigh, ‘how long was I holding my breath?’ she thought to herself.

═════°∴,*⋅✲══❏══✲⋅*,∴°═════

Eren cranked up the car placing his hand on her inner thigh, but close to her weak spot, she didn't say anything just thinking maybe he was doing it by accident, but she didn't mind either. She was comfortable with eren she trusted him. His fingers slowly crawled up her thigh to the waistband, of her panties snapping them across her warm skin his fingers were frigid against hers, a low gasp left her lips when his fingers slipped into her fabric as two of them disappeared into her slit. Her eyes lolling back before he's done anything. “You know how patient I've been?” eren mumbles, y/n looks at him in utter confusion, all she could see was his firm sculptured jawline, the stubbles from his beard coming back.

“Since you came out that house, wearing this beautiful outfit, and your elegant makeup, I wanted to cancel on them and drag you right back into the house” removing his hand from her needy core he spreads her legs open with his free hand, before removing her panties and throwing them in the back seat. Her wet core exposed to the cold air made her squirm to feel anything as if eren could read her mind his index finger slid up and down her core feeling her walls clench in anticipation. “Pretty girl, got all dressed up you look so lovely, dress like this more often and ill reward you hm?” eren pinched her clit between his two fingers making her body twitch the gasp in her throat quickly turned into an air pocket. “You're so beautiful my dear, you want these fingers inside of you?”

“Please?” y/n begged, without further ado, he preps his two fingers coated in her lubrication before sliding them into her needy hole. Her short gasp fueling his desire for her. “Look at you, baby, a beautiful mess for me” eren looks in her direction at the red light to further pound her with his fingers, the palm of his hand slamming against her clit “faster..” she begs her body heat getting warmer by the second “your wish is my command babygirl” eren knew what he was doing saying that word. It was her weakness, eren sped up his fingers as he curled them inside her sloppy hole. The broken syllabus of her saying Eren's name, seeing her squirm next to him fueled him, even more, to just get home fast.

“Eren—I'm coming” her legs were shaking too close but eren pulled out followed by her whine, his glossed fingers smack her inner thigh “keep them open for me pretty girl hm?” he placed his fingers on her tongue as she sucked her flavor off his finger. “Okay,” she whines “good girl” eren praises her. His fingers engulf back into her hole the tender buzzing between her legs resurfaced and she was on edge again. Eren was fingering her faster than he was a moment ago, his left hand gripping the steering wheel as he speeds home to ravish her. “Fuck—” she whispered “you're going to come for me princess?” he asked, she whimpered a small yes feeling her legs trembling to his touch.

“Come for me beautiful” eren decrees, her body shuttered under the drastic sentiment of his fingers coddled inside of her. She couldn't keep her eyes open due to the shock going through her body. His fingers swiped her clit left and right to procure another orgasm out of her, her whimpers twisted into short pants brandishing his wrist with both of her hands after riding out her second orgasm he discarded his hands from her pulsing clit and walloped her essence off his fingers, her legs fastening right after. “Taste as good as you look, princess, you did well for me” smiling at her broken form he just couldn't wait to ravish her at home.

═════°∴,*⋅✲══❏══✲⋅*,∴°═════

Getting home eren wasted no time holding her over his shoulders making her giggle at how needy he is for her. Getting a vigorous glimpse at his leather seats they were lustrous but he didnt have the time or thought to do anything, that all she had to do was wear glittery eyeshadow to get him pungent and irked. Throwing his metallic keys in the receptacle he kicked off his shoes and omitted hers simultaneously. “I love you, you know that?” Eren murmurs before positioning her on the bed “yeah, and I love you more” he cupped her face as their inflamed lips adjoined for each other her nails stroking his stern arms before coiling them in his chocolate locks, strands of his hair mashing against her forehead making her smile into their fervent session. “You’re perfect” Eren mumbles in her neck, vacating humid elegant kisses on her susceptible skin, the forlorn pants and stubble weakness for attention made him sneer against her skin.

His fingers draped around her throat holding her in place as his lips suck softly on his skin, Eren wasn’t an aficionado of hickies, but he did cherish to give soft bites and pulls from his lips on her skin, every time he did it gave her goosebumps. His free hand floundering to get her bra off he latched it off in a matter of seconds, he enables her out of her clothes the nimble air blowing on her body as he clasped his hoodie from the peripheries and over his head. Y/n was enthralled by his sculpted body, his abs defined all the way down to his v-line. “See something you relish princess?” His tongue cascade against his lower lip. “I see something I love” Eren grins “you’re cute” grabbing her by the ankles he heaved her towards the edge of the bed both of her legs upon his shoulder.

Frittering no time Eren hauled his tongue up her folds teasing her, while her head inundated in the pillow reaching out for his hands. Clutching her hand into his, while his tongue swirled around her folds already feeling unstable. Eren invariably said he could devour her for weeks and would never get depleted, now he was eating like he was famished weaving his tongue between her folds his green eyes looked Into her eyes with ardor and fascination, her legs coercing to close when he altered the pattern of his tongue to quick flicks.

She strived to say his name but was ceased by his lips engulfing her clit as he executed zigzags her mouth agape for seconds before she divulged all down his chin fidgeting for something to mellow her down. Eren wasn’t going to let her run away from her fourth orgasm so he dragged her in closer and inserted his fingers into her slowly. “Good girl princess” he gripes across her thighs, sweet kisses to her trembling thighs made him smile, hoisting his head up his fingers swirl inside of her repeatedly peaking at her g-spot. “Going to give me another one princess? Or better yet how about I make you squirt hm?” His eyes drifted darker, they were no longer a sour apple, they resemble the pine trees. “I can’t—“ she smothered grabbing his wrist with both of her hands.

She could feel the knot expanding in her stomach the pressure and feeling to squirt all over his hand along with the overstimulation made her shiver to the touch. “Yes, you can beautiful” Eren cupped her face in his free hand placing endearments on her lips and crown of her head. “Let me see that luxurious face as you soak up the sheets, let daddy discover it baby” his free hand encircled around her neck adding no pressure just to hold her in place. The tones of his palm slapping against her throbbing weak spot. Her pants were getting abrupter and tighter but her moans enhanced almost screaming out Eren's name and some mishandled cursed words. Her liquid soaking up Eren's v-line and mattress.

“Look at you, baby you’re so stunning darling” her drowsy face as her eyes started to cross, as she could see through her hooded eyelashes was Eren coming to land soft kisses on her forehead. Her body felt paralyzed she never knew she could do that. And Eren was the only one to get her to do it. She senses the weight of the bed sink next to her grinning she whirls over, solely to maintain his hand on her midriff and her thighs by his ears. Her hand striking the headboard for support, she didn’t know what he was doing candidly she thought he was complacent, not announcing she wasn't.

He pulled her waist sitting her down on his face, his tongue grazed over her folds making her twinge, “Eren..” she let out desperately “I may suffocate you” she weakly notified him, all distress left her mind once his hand clashed with her ass. Biting her lower lip she sat on his face thoroughly as he rumbled in happiness. She snickered at how much he’s enjoying this, it’s something new for the both of them. Trudging her folds on his tongue she glimpsed down at him seeing the fulfillment in his eyes she extracted the fringes of his hair from his glossy forehead. The traction drove her eccentric she needed more from him, placing his fingers on her bud he stimulated her at the pace she was moving. Which made her more frantic.

Her head lolled back desperately wanting more, she sped up for rhythm as Eren followed in pursuit, becoming greedy with his touch, she was approaching her now fifth? Sixth? Orgasm? She lost count after she left the car. Her forehead firmly pressed against the headboard has she comes undone. Eren cleaned her like a dinner plate he didn’t want any of her Essences to drop. Helping her up he lays her on her stomach, perching her ass up to him. He knew this would ultimately destroy her after they were through but he didn’t care.

She looked beautiful today. His tip taunting her entrance she moaned for him, “I hear you babygirl” his hand collided with her ass leaving a stubble print, her fingers grabbed purchase of the sheets when he rammed himself in without reluctance her toes spiraling until she fully adjusted to his expanse. Sex with Eren was either arduous or delicate, with no in-between. “Look at you taking all of me, lovely girl” fastening his hands around her waist the pitches of his low wails made her clench around him, his waistline hitting against her. She was a whimpering predicament underneath him as he demolished her for what felt like the tenth time.

Skin to skin colliding with the mixture of Eren's dirty talk, and her soft moans she tried to comprise, Eren wanted her to be loud, damn what their neighbors said he wanted to give it to her till she couldn’t fight it. “Cmon baby, utilize your words” he roared at her through his clenched cheeks, the repulse of his body denouncing against her as he continued to ravage her, “let me and the neighborhood hear those delightful little moans” he grabbed her hair placing her head on his shoulder for support as he placed delicate kisses upon her forehead. He slowly placed her back on the bed before he completely drilled her endlessly, she was now on the horizon of crying out his name out, her moans were boisterous than before, if someone didn’t know better they would’ve thought she was shouting for aid.

“Atta girl” Eren facilitated her, her body was simmering as the beads of sweat crept down her shoulder and onto the bed, he adored that face she makes when he ignites her into subspace, he hoists her fully one time holding his length inside of her, she gasped for air as her body started shuddering at the pressure. “Fuck..” was all she could let out as she came undone.“Pretty girl, you’d let me know if I’m being too harsh right?” Eren inquired out of serendipity, all y/n could do was nod. His lips kissed her temple down to her lips in a delicate manner “promise? I need words princess” he uttered in her ear. “Yes,” she let out in the form of a hum.

“Good, I don’t wanna hurt you, or get greedy just because you’re not saying anything okay? I love you” Eren soothed her, “I love you more” y/n responded. Eren slid his length out slowly as she whimpered from her high “sensitive aren't we?” He quips she turns over on her stomach to throw her arms around his neck he kissed her lips softly to savor every feeling he has right now. She wasn’t emigrating anywhere but he certainly kissed her like she was leaving tomorrow. Feeling her hand traversing to his member she brings in closer until he’s halfway inside of her. “You didn’t come” her eyes sparkled into his, the fingertips that were on her cheeks were now In her hair.

“This isn’t too much for you?, honestly just made this about you and how beautiful you looked today” Eren questions her, followed by a short ramble. “this is just perfect, this about us baby I love you” y/n giggles, Eren pressed his forehead against hers “m’kay, I love you more” Eren took the more vigorous approach, soft but drilling strokes, as much as he rushed it now he wanted to admire her. The way her eyebrows pleated when he strike the right spot, the way her lower lip fit merely prudent in between her teeth, the way she nestled his face in her hands, the strings of her hair attaching to her forehead he loved it, he’s never cherished someone as much as her. Picking up the momentum slowly his pants inaugurates to become in unison with hers the smirk on his face when his fingers flickered her bud his nose dusting against her neck.

“Come with me goddess,” he said in her neck, her nails digging into his back, she held on for dear life, her face plunged into his neck as she came, and he withdrew and did the same. Once his eyes were now on her she titters at his handsome crisp green eyes “Eren you’re so beautiful” he derides before kissing her temple. “That’s my line, I may have to litigate you” his craggy voice echoes from the bathroom, with her eyes close she shook at the touch of a calm cloth. “Shh, no ones here” he kidded, y/n smacked him with a pillow before giggling “such a fucking cocky bastard” Eren climbed on top of her “and you love it” he kissed her nose before presenting her his shirt as he put on sweatpants.

“Danger!” She screamed, Eren swiveled his eyes knowing precisely what she meant “don’t fret I’ll take you in the shower darling” y/n eyes enlarged as he pulled her back into his chest “respectfully of course” Eren gleamed in her hair before closing his eyes. “Maybe I should do red glimmer for the party on Wednesday”

“You’ll have to cancel right now if that’s your scheme, cause you’re not leaving you know how red gets me” he laughed, but his tone was far from a hoax “maybe I don’t wanna go” she chortles turning into his chest her nose prickled his collarbone, “deal” he smiled smoothing her shoulders in a circular motion.

“I love you Eren” she grumbled

“I love you more y/n”

♡ · · · · ────•.°本°.•──── · · · · ♡

#eren yeager #eren jaeger #eren jeager x reader #eren yeager x reader #attack on titan eren #snk eren

69 notes · View notes

luv-eddiediaz · 3 years

Text

Buddie Drabble: Part Three

K, yea, this kinda became a fic - sorry!

Part One here: https://luv-eddiediaz.tumblr.com/post/657345791303811072/buddie-drabble-part-one

Part Two here: https://luv-eddiediaz.tumblr.com/post/657348777513992192/buddie-drabble-part-two

Eddie wanted to do this date right. He could have put on his suit, told Buck to do the same, and taken him to a nice restaurant, and it would have been nice, maybe even magical, but he thinks both he and Buck have that kind of date too many times, and he wants to do something different, something better.

"I can't believe you took me bowling," Buck shouts over the music blaring through the speakers.

"Cosmic bowling," Eddie corrects as if it wasn't obvious by the black-light lit neon walls.

"Even better!" Buck beams.

They pick up their shoes and go to their assigned lane.

"Pizza or nachos?" Eddie asks.

"Definitely a greasy pizza."

"I'll be right back then."

"I can get it."

"I got it. You put our names in." Eddie thinks he winks as he walks away, and if Buck's laugh is anything to go by, he definitely did.

He's been buzzing for days leading up to this night, and that shot of tequila he took before leaving the house isn't doing anything to calm his nerves. Neither is telling himself that it's just like any other night they've hung out because it isn't. Eddie asked Buck out on a date, and dates have expectations. They're already both dressed a little better than usual, and Eddie's never smelled Buck's plummy vanilla cologne before. He's trying his best to be normal, but his heart is beating out of his chest because he never stopped to think what it means that actually are where they are.

"Should be just a few minutes," he says of the food when he's back at their lane.

"Should we bowl then?" Buck asks, "I put us in alphabetical order, so I'm first."

"Hmm, technically, shouldn't I be first, then?"

"Not by last name, Diaz," Buck teases, and Eddie watches him walk away to pick out a ball.

"I know what you're doing," Buck says as he's bent down to check the weight on the bottom rack.

"What am I doing?"

"Checking out my ass."

Eddie blushes, and if he wasn't already hot in this windowless death trap, he sure is burning up now.

"I, um- I," he stutters.

Buck, ball in hand, stops just inches from Eddie's face, "It's alright. I'm gonna check yours out too." He glides away and exaggeratedly cranes his neck back to look at Eddie's ass before effortlessly rolling the ball down the lane and picking up a strike.

This is what Eddie wanted, what he was afraid would be lost under the pretense of a label, but that ease of being with Buck is still there, more so now that he doesn't have to hide all those thoughts and feelings he'd thought were wrong for so long, because Buck has them too.

They eat their pizza, drink their pitcher of beer, and discover that Buck is an outstanding bowler, and Eddie is not.

"You're not standing right, Eds."

"I'm standing just like you do."

"Put your shoulder lower, and swing your arm way back, so far you think you're going to toss it backward, and then pop your right leg behind you when you let go."

"Or, here's an idea," Eddie spreads his legs apart and tosses the ball down the lane with two hands.

Buck covers his eyes when it rolls into the gutter and laughs at him. Eddie comes to stand in front of where Buck is sitting and pries his fingers away.

"I think you won," he says.

"I think so too."

"O for three, or do you wanna call it a night?"

"I'm not sure I'm ready to be done with you yet," Buck says, and Eddie immediately sees his face turn a bright shade of pink, and the most adorable, embarrassed laugh escapes from the back of his throat, "I mean, wow- that wasn't supposed to sound dirty like that."

Eddie laughs. He doesn't tell Buck he likes how dirty it sounds.

"There's a diner next door. We could get some pie."

"Do you think they have sugar-free cherry?"

"Maybe."

"Cause I hate apple."

"I know you do, Buck."

They replace the rented shoes with their own and step out into the cool September night. They're halfway to the diner when Buck stops Eddie underneath a streetlight with a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Wait a minute," Buck says, and Eddie's head starts to spin because he thought this was good, that they were both enjoying themselves, but now Buck is looking at him in that serious way he sometimes does.

"What's wrong?" Eddie asks.

"Nothing. Just, in case I forget to tell you later, I had a really good time tonight."

"Oh," Eddie lets out a relieved sigh, "so did I."

"And also, in case I forget to do this later," Buck leans down the two and a half inches that separate their height and kisses him. Eddie's fingers snake up the back of Buck's head and into his hair. He could have imagined kissing Buck a million times, but nothing was ever going to be as good as the real thing.

"No way in hell I would have let you forget that," Eddie says when they break away to catch their breath, foreheads pressed together.

Buck laughs, and Eddie finds their hands are clasped together down at their sides, and nothing has ever felt more right than holding Buck's hand in the middle of a parking lot, except maybe kissing him in one.

"Are we still getting pie?" Buck asks

"Yea, we're still getting pie. Cause I'm not ready to be done with you yet."

Both their eyebrows raise, the corner of their mouths turn up in a smirk, and with hands still together, they walk the rest of the way to the diner.

And yes, they do have sugar-free cherry pie.

#buddie #fic #i was just trying to get out some thoughts I had about their first date #long #sorry

32 notes · View notes

need-a-fugue · 3 years

Text

Trustworthy (Chapter 3)

Summary: You’ve spent the last three years teaming up with Santiago Garcia on every mission you had a hand in coordinating… and the past several months plotting with him to take down the biggest bad to hit your radar. But even all your time at the DEA and all your experience in the field couldn’t have prepared you for this.

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Fem!Reader (slow burn)

Warnings: Does fluff warrant a warning? Well, before we get into the gritty mission, here be some fluffy fluff. Oh, and language. Because I speak that shit.

Thursday came sooner than anticipated, and with it came that awful rush of dread that enveloped you each and every time you set foot in an airport. You’d think you’d be over this by now, your job shuttling you off to the far corners of the Earth, making it so that the only way you could ever get to where you needed to be – Bogota, Juarez, Islamabad, home – was by plane. But… no. The fear of plummeting to an inevitably fiery death inside a giant can filled with the recycled breath of dozens – even hundreds – of strangers was one you were simply never going to get over.

“Holy shit, you weren’t kidding,” Benny barks out amid a thunderous laugh as he watches you down another pill and chase it with a tiny bottle of vodka. “Is it even safe to take Xanax with alcohol?” he asks, his face screwing up in confusion, a hint of concern breaking through the amusement. “Are you so scared of flying that you’re willing to risk an OD?”

“Seems strange, given your profession,” Tom mutters as he sidesteps Ben to slide into the row of seats behind you.

You offer no reply, instead blinking your eyes shut in an attempt to block out the awful activity of preparing for takeoff. The doors haven’t even closed yet, people still steadily boarding the plane, your new teammates still stowing bags and chatting merrily around you, and yet you’ve already buckled in, pulled the lap belt as tight as it will go, and downed your second Xanax in an hour.

“She’ll be alright,” you hear from above. You crack open a single eye and look up to see Santiago looming over the back of your seat. “Fish,” he calls out, tossing a quick glance at the man still struggling with fitting everything into the overhead compartment. “You sit with her. Tell her about all the times you’ve flown. Keep her calm.”

“I’m calm,” you mumble under your breath.

He looks down at you and raises a brow, gaze holding yours even as he tells his friend, “And don’t let her pop any more pills.”

“No shit,” Ben chuckles as he steps out into the aisle, relinquishing his seat just as Frankie finally slams shut the door on the overhead bin. “We’ll have to scrape her off the floor otherwise.”

Frankie slides in next to you, the tiny armrest barely allowing for any space between you and the scorching heat radiating off of him. Normally you might be okay with that, it certainly felt good in the chilly parking lot the other night. But right now you’re feeling flush and hot and on the verge of possible combustion, the odd suck and click sound of the plane’s door shutting and sealing you in causing a bead of sweat to begin sliding down your temple.

“Truth be told, I’m not too wild about being on flights where I’m not the pilot,” he says, his soft voice pitched perfectly to sound just over the hum of the plane, the new buzzing in your ears, and the sudden woosh of air from the vent that he reaches over to switch on above you.

“Comforting,” you mutter, shutting your eyes against the harsh, dry air blowing down on you, but inclining your head back into the steady, cooling stream just the same.

“Just don’t tell her about how many times you’ve crashed, Fish,” Ben laughs from across the aisle. You bolt upright and crane your neck around the man beside you so as to stare the giggly child down, wide eyes gleaming with a very real threat that actually causes his smirk to break and a subtle, “sorry,” to slip past his lips.

Frankie takes your hand, pries it away from the armrest that you’d been holding in a death grip, and he gives you a little nudge with his elbow, encouraging you to lean back in your seat. “I’ve never crashed,” he corrects, shooting Benny a swift, reprimanding glare before turning back to you. “I’ve just… had a couple of rough landings. But each time everyone walked away fine.”

“Yeah?” you question, critical brow cranking high. “And how often do people walk away from rough landings on a commercial airplane?”

He lets out a soft chuckle. “Not often,” he admits. “But they also don’t go down often, so there’s that.”

Your eyes blow wide, slight gasp catching in your throat as you eke out, “Are you trying to jinx us?”

He twists in his seat to look at you, his fingers wrapping just a little bit tighter around your hand as you inadvertently shake in his grasp. “Trust me, princesa, this is the least dangerous thing we’re gonna do this week.”

The heady bolt of fear subsides a bit, quickly replaced by a tinge of confusion – princesa? – and a hint of irritation. Your face twists into an overdone pout – “Don’t call me that.” – but you can’t deny that his words do, somehow, put you at ease. Or perhaps the Xanax is just kicking in. Either way, you find yourself settling back into the seat, body and mind both suddenly sluggish and heavy. You twist towards him, away from the window and the blinding glare of the early morning sun as it reflects off the stark white wing of the plane, and you let out a small disgruntled grunt as the too-tight lap belt digs into your hip.

Frankie easily contorts himself in his seat so that he’s able to face you bodily, smiling – perhaps teasing – eyes never disconnecting from yours as he too settles in and reclines his head to the headrest. “Gotta have some kind of callsign over the radio,” he states, the corner of his mouth pulling up into a coy, crooked smile. “You don’t like princesa… how about loquita?”

“Fuck you,” you bark out amid a snort of a laugh, the offended pitch to your voice and wide-eyed stare setting him to very nearly vibrate with stifled giggles.

He takes a moment to swallow down his obvious amusement, holding your gaze all the while. Then he clears his throat and pulls his features into a stern set. “Don’t take it personally. I’d call anyone who hates to fly crazy.”

You issue out a short, incredulous scoff. “Maybe if I were the pilot, I’d like it. If I were in control.”

“Yeah,” he admits with a nod and a sigh. “That helps.”

But the truth is, you don’t actually think it would help that much. Because, well… “What person in their right mind thinks, you know what I’d like to do? I’d like to ignore the fact that God gave me legs instead of wings and I’d like to leave the ground. I mean… the ground is the safe place, man. What are you thinking?”

He smiles over at you, a soft, tender expression that sets off a flutter deep in your core. “What kind of person wants to stay on the ground with everybody else when they can climb into the heavens and move through the clouds?”

You bite back the grin that begs to break out and instead flatten your face in the most deadpan expression you can muster. “Are you fucking with me right now?” He merely shoots a wink in response, the light from outside your window reflecting in his deep brown eyes as they pierce into you. You roll your own eyes, but can just barely hold back the quirk to your lips as you say simply, “You’re the crazy one.”

He lets loose with a soft chuckle and shifts further in his seat so that he’s entirely facing you. “You never wanted to play in the clouds?” he asks, grin pulling wider. You feel a new heat – a welcome and comforting one, not the panicky, dizzying burn from before – blossom inside of you as you notice a single dimple cave in on the side of his stubble-dusted face.

A long sigh escapes you. “I mean, I did watch a lot of Care Bears growing up,” you offer, working to keep your expression still and set. But his smile simply grows and it’s just a breath of a moment before you break and let loose with a beam of your own. “God,” you nearly whine as an airy chuckle spills out of you. “Play in the clouds? You’re so cheesy.”

“Hey, I happen to really like cheese.” He raises a rather serious brow as he asks, tone low and sincere, “Can you imagine what the world would be like without cheese?”

You force a stoic glare, bite back a smile. “It’d be terrible. No nachos or pizza…”

He shakes his head slowly, sadly. “All the macaroni would be naked.”

You release a soft sigh. “One third of those popcorn tins would be empty.”

“Or filled with, I dunno, kale-dusted popcorn or something.”

You snort out a laugh, nose wrinkling in disgust. “What would we eat with tomato soup? Grilled eggplant?”

He shrugs. “What would Green Bay fans wear to the game?”

And again, you laugh, this one full and buoyant. “Poor Wisconsin, their entire economy would collapse.”

“What about the French?” he asks.

And it’s your turn to offer up a shrug. “They’ve still got wine.”

He stares at you for a lingering moment before his eyes flicker just past and out the window. “Maybe it sounds a little cheesy,” he begins, ticking his chin towards you, towards the tiny airplane window behind you. “But look out there and tell me there isn’t a part of you that wants to climb out there right now and bounce through those fluffy little bastards.”

Your brows pull tightly together, a quick flicker of pure shock shooting through you and causing you to whip around so fast that a crack sounds from your spine. Outside the window are, in fact, hordes of white puffy clouds peppering the bright blue sky. “What…?” you choke out, utter confusion lacing the word.

When had you taken off? When had you reached altitude? How had he managed to distract you so effectively as you climbed thousands of miles into the sky in this deathtrap tube?

You stare out the window for a long moment, giving yourself time to breathe, to comprehend. Allowing your fingers – which had just clamped painfully down on Frankie’s hand yet again – to slowly relax and loosen their terrified hold. No, there’s no part of you that wants to go out there and bounce around in the damn clouds. No. Way. In. Hell. But there is a part of you that begins to get lost in the soft, subtle beauty stretching out all around you. It’s still scary as hell. But it’s also… amazing.

Frankie watches as you continue to gaze out at the sprawling sky, bright blue on this beautiful day, a day he’d like nothing more in this world than to be out in, flying through the wide-open sky. Your hand remains wrapped around his, even if the intense grip has slackened. And your shoulders are still nearly pressed to you ears, so tense and taut. But there’s a sort of wonder wrapping about you now too, a look of, if not joy, at least appreciation.

“Los cielos,” he mutters from behind, seemingly to himself, his tone dreamy and airy and full of something like… wonder. You toss a glance over your shoulder and catch the way the sun lights his face as he stares just past you, his eyes fixated on the world beyond. You stare for perhaps a beat too long, not realizing until his gaze slowly shifts from the window to you, catching you in the act. The dimple caves again, wide smile pulling once more as he locks onto your eyes, light laughter bubbling out of him as your gaze pings away in a swift moment of embarrassment. He squeezes your hand, tightening his grip on your fingers for a single, quick, perfect millisecond before he utters, honeyed voice once again carrying more than a hint of teasing, “Cielo.”

Confused, you look back up at him, your brow twisting. But you let out a groan the moment he tenders another wink, the moment you realize that he’s just offered up another ridiculous callsign suggestion. You roll you eyes again, but make no move to pull out of his hold nor turn from his heated gaze. “So much cheese…”

He laughs again, his grin pulling tight as he watches you settle back into your seat with an exhausted sigh. You raise a brow in question, in challenge. And the smirk fades to a stony façade as he gives a single, definitive nod and declares, as though all has been settled, “Cielo.”

000

The flight knocks you for a loop. Less than an hour in, you’re passed out, snoring away on Frankie’s shoulder. You wake at one point to discover a pool of drool leaking from your gaping mouth and soaking through the shoulder of his button down, but you don’t even have the wherewithal to be embarrassed, nor the grace to apologize. Instead, you lazily swipe at the mess and turn with an incoherent mumble before dropping your heavy head against the cool glass of the window. You’re pretty sure you hear the tinkling of laughter coming from across the aisle – pretty sure that’s the sound that woke you from your drug-induced slumber to begin with – and you can definitely discern the throaty whispers of shut the hell up and you’re an asshole, Ben coming from the man by your side. But you’re too laden with sleep to really process or care.

For the next however many hours, you dream. Dream of bouncing through clouds in a bright blue sky. Dream of slinking through the jungle with strange men by your side. Dream of falling and floating and somehow rising to fly. You sleep and dream – and snore and drool – until an all-too familiar laugh sounds from above, a barking command of, “Hey, get your ass up, agent,” echoing in Santi’s exasperated – yet amused – tone. You blink open your eyes, tilt back your head, and see both him and Tom glaring down at you as they stand – bent awkwardly from the low ceiling of the plane – in the row behind. “Everybody else is already lone gone, bonita. Get your ass off the plane.”

Your brow furrows and your middle finger rises steadily upward, but somehow the rest of your body feels too heavy to move and it takes a kindhearted gentleman in a tattered old ballcap to ease you to your feet and out into the aisle.

“The second one was a mistake,” you mutter wearily as you nearly faceplant into Frankie’s chest.

“Yeah,” comes from behind in an annoyed scoff as Santiago reaches over to collect your bag from beneath the seat. “I’m confiscating your Xanax.”

The ride to the run-down inn and resort – far from the city and cheap as all hell – passes in a blur. But by the time you arrive and check into your little bungalow, you’re feeling, if not refreshed, at least awake.

Everyone agrees to meet up at the tiny restaurant at the edge of the grounds in about twenty minutes, just long enough for a quick rinse and wardrobe change. And somehow you manage to be the first one there, allowing you the opportunity to have a quick chat with the bartender – which results in a free, giant fruity concoction – before settling into a table in the corner. You let out a relaxed sigh and breathe back in the humid jungle air, realizing only in this very moment that a part of you actually missed this place. That a part of you might just think of the Amazon as home. You glance around, take note of your surroundings – as you always do, always have done, even before your law enforcement training – and begin to watch the rather handsy young couple at the bar as they giggle and swoon.

It isn’t long before Benny jogs up behind you and drops into the seat on your right. He sets down a fruity drink that looks suspiciously like yours, making you wonder if the bartender treats all tourists to a free, sugar-fueled beverage and perhaps your flirting earned you nothing at all. But as the others meander in and join you, all with mere sweating bottles of beer in their hands, you decide instead that you and Ben must just be the most special of the bunch.

Of course, that notion begins to chafe once Benny turns to you with a wicked look in his eye and pulls his phone from his pocket, nonchalantly swiping though a parade of terrible photos with an all-too delighted smile. The first few show you passed out on Frankie on the plane, mouth gaping wide as you spill drool into his shirt. “Oh, God!” you gasp, only just now recalling the brief moment of near lucidity from earlier in the day. “You took pictures?!”

You give him a quick slap and try to grab the cell from his hand only to have him rear back and laugh out, “Wait, wait, these are my favorites,” before scrolling through the next dozen or so, each picture showing a steady progression of your drowsy head falling from Will’s shoulder down to his lap as the two of you sat in the back on the drive in from the airport.

“You talk in your sleep,” Will states plainly from across the table, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

You cock your head suspiciously at him, gaze narrowing. “Liar,” you accuse despite knowing full well that it’s true.

The corner of his mouth quirks into a crooked grin. “Something about… sliding down rainbows?”

“Ooooh,” you drawl out, nodding your head. “Yeah, that makes sense. Frankie kept talking to me about Care Bears on the flight in.”

The man to your left takes a steady gulp from his beer, a swallow so huge it makes you think he’d been navigating the desert all day, desperate for a drink. “You were barely conscious for more than five minutes on that flight. You don’t have a clue what I talked to you about.”

“Better not have been anything dirty,” Santiago interjects pointedly.

You turn and pin Frankie down with an intent yet amused stare. “I definitely remember something about playing in the clouds.”

“Naked?” Ben asks as he jostles your other side with his elbow.

“Ahora, eso seria realmente el cielo,” Frankie mutters softly, ducking further beneath the bill of his hat and trying desperately not to laugh as you level him with an astounded glare.

By the time the food comes, your table has managed to outdo the small group of college students in the corner in terms of noise, filling the only partially walled-in establishment with a relaxed sort of banter and the occasional booming laughter. Benny continues his jokes and playful ribbing, eagerly pulling you in to blend with his tightknit group. Will and Frankie both remain mostly quiet, despite their comfortable-looking grins and occasional bursts of laughter.

Tom’s demeanor is similar, perhaps a bit less relaxed, a bit more guarded. Even after claiming to be cool with your presence on this little escapade, he’s anything but warm and welcoming to you. It doesn’t escape your notice that he continues to pull Santi aside to whisper what you can only assume are either covert sweet nothings or – far more likely – mission-related thoughts and plans that he still doesn’t quite trust you with. You shrug it off… it’s fine, really. You’ve had to slip into other cliques and clusters before, wedge yourself into a special operations task force or try to integrate in with local police to gain access to intel. This wasn’t your first rodeo. And frankly, compared to the Federales in Juarez, all of these guys had welcomed you into the fold with wide-open arms.

It isn’t long – or it doesn’t feel like long, anyway – before Santi rises and tells everyone that he’s heading to bed. A shit-eating grin passes over his face as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small, familiar looking pill bottle. He shakes the remaining Xanax around and states simply, “For once, I’m actually gonna sleep great.”

Tom follows hot on his heels after issuing out – in a tone equal parts dad and captain – “We’re up at 0500 and I don’t want any of you to be dragging ass.” Everyone nods their assent, but the moment he and Santi are out the door, Ben promptly buys another round and the four of you who remain settle into a new rhythm that lasts until the tiny restaurant and bar finally shoos you out so they can close for the night.

The lot of you wander the grounds of the inn for a bit after that, indulging in the cool breeze after hours of sweltering heat, and continuing to laugh and talk. But as you make it back to the bungalows, the brothers break away, Ben disappearing into his room without so much as a grunt of goodbye, and Will raising a pointed finger high and telling you and Frankie both to, “Get the hell away from these mosquitos and go get some sleep. Otherwise, Redfly’ll be raining down shit on everyone in the morning.”

But you’re now more awake than you’ve been all day, sated from a too-large dinner and positively sloshing with alcohol, well-rested after your many-hours-long nap during your travels, and you just can’t seem to make yourself shut up, not even once you arrive at your door.

And Frankie seems to welcome it, listening intently as you babble on, filling the gaps with assertions of his own. Now that Ben’s no longer around to monopolize the conversation, you and Frankie develop an easy back and forth, the dialog taking on a soft, steady, even cadence. You talk about everything, the two of you. About Mexico, because you spent nearly four years in different parts of the country, and he still has family in a few of those areas. And you talk about all the places you’ve been, you with your sprawling career and general lust for travel – Road trips are more my thing though… and camping, hiking… Have you ever been through Bryce Cannon? God’s country. – and Frankie with his time in the military and more recent contract work – Yeah, nature’s great and all, but have you walked through the bazars in Marrakesh? Unbelievable. Though I wouldn’t say no to a day of fishing off the Gulf.

You talk about Santiago, each sharing stories of the man who had only just become a trusted colleague and friend for you over these last few years, but had been one of Frankie’s most beloved people for well over a decade. And that leads you into asking about the other guys too, each of whom you find yourself getting to know better and better from even just the few stories he shares as you two recline back into the railing of the bungalow’s small porch. He even manages to get you comfortable enough to share some stories about your own comrades over the years, the good, the bad, and the ugly… and the long-time partner who bled out in your arms following a bust outside of Albuquerque. Though you don’t spend much time on that, eager to move on almost the moment that your partner’s name passes through your lips.

The look on his face, though – as you share those sparse details from that most awful day – tells you immediately that Frankie understands exactly what it’s like to lose a partner, a brother in arms. And while that isn’t a surprise in the least – he had just gotten through telling you that he spent fifteen years in the special forces after all – that knowledge does cause you to feel a whole new pull. It makes you scoot a bit closer, makes you drop your hand easily atop his, your sweaty palm gliding along his warm skin before he reciprocates by slowly turning in your grasp and twining his fingers with yours.

“So,” he breathes out after a moment. “You’ve been out here for… three years?”

You nod, a soft smile blooming as you think about this bizarre and stunning corner of the world. “About that.”

His gaze travels out into the lush jungle located just beyond the row of bungalows, small porchlights illuminating just enough of the canopy to remind you both of where you are. “What’s the city like?” he asks after a beat.

“It’s nice,” you rush out. “Small, relaxed…” Your lips purse together as you think on what to say, how to describe this place that has been your home for three years now. “Lot more tourists than you might think. It’s funny, even the people who live here – in the city at least – a lot of them are transplants from Bogota.” You give a nonchalant shrug – “The streets flood a lot. That’s not always fun.” – and relish the deep chuckle emanating from the man by your side. “There’s a legend about how it got its name,” you say suddenly. “I’ve never really gotten any details about it, but supposedly a Colombian soldier fell in love with an Amerindian woman…”

“Leticia,” he supplies, the name slipping from his tongue in a perfectly accented drawl, falling out into the dark night in a soft, low rumble.

You nod. “And he named the city after her.”

Frankie huffs out a small laugh, a light and airy rumble. His gaze continues to wander, dark eyes shifting along the barely perceivable horizon. “Must’ve been a hell of a lady,” he mutters absently, giving your fingers a squeeze.

You watch him closely, his features soft and relaxed in the low light, the slightest hint of a smile still riding his lips. “Yeah. Must’ve been.”

Taglist:

@tweedlydumbtweedlydoo @icanbeyourjedi @greeneyedblondie44 @mrscrain-x7 @kyjoraven@elephants-are-a-thing @nakhudanyx

#frankie catfish morales #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier #francisco catfish morales #frankie morales x you #santiago pope garcia #benny miller #will ironhead miller

51 notes · View notes

btxtreads · 4 years

Text

💌 The Story of Us 💌

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: SPARKS FLY

↳ Pairing: Choi Yeonjun x Reader

↳ word count: 2.5k words

↳ rating: G

↳ genre: fluff

↳ warnings: drunk yeonjun, some insistent guy trying to hook up

As she sat in the car, donning a white crop top and sitting next to an excited Hueningkai, she convinced herself that no. Y/N told herself that she went to the party because she was concerned about Soobin, Beomgyu, Taehyung and Kai—who have expressed their desire to be shit-faced drunk for the night. She nodded to herself as she thought that the only reason why she wore her white crop top was because she looked cute in it.

Not because of Yeonjun.

She hates Yeonjun.

Yet, as Taehyun turned back to the back seat to smile at her and Kai, waving his phone to show the videos and photos Beomgyu sent him about the party, she can’t help but peek into her phone and pull up that photo of Yeonjun in his instagram account—with pink hair and a white crop top just like he said he would wear.

No, she’s not here because of him.

Yet, as she steps out of the car and walked inside the dorm building, knocking on the door of Beomgyu’s apartment—she can’t help but wonder why her heart sped up when Yeonjun appeared with a smirk.

“You’re here!” Soobin gasped behind him, popping up and shoving a red solo cup in her hands. “Here, take this.”

“I thought you had something to do?” Yeonjun teased as Taehyun and Kai entered the dorm to help finish setting up.

“Oh, right.” Soobin nodded along to his hyung, looking over at the girl in concern. “I hope you didn’t abandon that just for the party. You seemed so concerned over it.”

“No, no. I finished it early.” Y/N smiled over at Soobin before sending an amused Yeonjun her sharpest glare. “Thanks for the concern, Yeonjun.”

“No problem, m’lady.” Yeonjun snorted, crossing his arms as Soobin walked towards Kai. “You matched me, huh?”

“I had no more good clothes.” Y/N rolled her eyes. “Besides, don’t I look cute?”

“Not really Soobin’s type,” Yeonjun chuckled, wiggling his eyebrows. “More like mine, though.”

“Fuck you.”

“When and where, babe?”

Y/N growled under her breath as the doorbell sounded, prompting her to open the door to a few curious teens.

“Is this Choi Beomgyu’s party?” A girl asked curiously, fidgeting with the hem of her leather jacket.

As Y/N raised her eyebrow, about to question whether the girl even knew who Choi Beomgyu was, Yeonjun popped up behind her—a hand slung over her shoulder.

“You came to the right place—the booze is right this way!”

The bass boomed over head as college kids chugged down as much alcohol as their livers allowed for the night. Freshmen were slumped over the couch, passed out within the first minute. Most of the older kids goofed around on their own, surrounded by their own groups of friends.

Y/N blinked in disdain as she watched Yeonjun saunter around the place. His lips tilted up to a smirk, shooting her a wink as he took a swig from the soju bottle in his hands. Yeonjun took a quick glance at the girls flanking behind him before scoffing and striding over to a group of friends playing cards in a corner. Y/N rolled her eyes and turned towards the kitchen, where Soobin and Beomgyu conversed while replenishing their own cups of alcohol.

“Hey, have you guys seen Taehyun and Kai?” She asked, as she squeezed herself in between the two boys to fix herself a cup.

“Uh, they were here earlier—they stole my nacho bowl.” Beomgyu shrugged, offering the cup in his hand. “Taste?”

“What is it?” Y/N raised her eyebrow, hands enclosing around the glass.

“Vodka with a little extra stuff. Beomgyu special.”

“Okay, Gyuu. This better be good.” Y/N chuckled, tossing the back and downing it in one go. She winced as she felt the burn of the alcohol, much to the amusement of the two boys.

“Good party, by the way.” Y/N snorted as Soobin laughed, slinging an arm around the girl.

“I told you he throws the best parties.”

“God, where were you in freshman year?” Y/N mumbled, causing Beomgyu to laugh and wave the vodka bottle in her face.

“Want more?”

“God yes.”

The group laughed as Beomgyu set off to make the girl another cup, mouth opening to talk through his process.

“Oh, Soobin-hyung,” Beomgyu said, looking up as he unceremoniously dumped a copius amount of vodka into the cup. “I just remembered—didn’t you ask me if I knew someone from the student council for you to interview?”

“Yeah,” Soobin shrugged, turning to Y/N to explain. “I need it for a paper in campus politics.”

“Ah, hate it when that happens.”

Soobin chuckled as Beomgyu handed Y/N the cup and pointed over to another boy drinking beer by the couch.

“That’s Mark Lee, he’s the secretary. I can talk to him for you if you want, hyung.”

“Oh, yeah, I know him. He’d be great.” Soobin nodded, turning over to Y/N. “We’re gonna go talk to Mark, wanna come with?”

“Nah, I’ll just stay here.” Y/N hummed as she finished her cup and took Beomgyu’s current cup out of his hands—making the boy snort.

“Calm down on the vodka, my mix is pretty strong.” Beomgyu reminded her before pulling Soobin away.

“I can handle my alcohol!” Y/N called afterwards, chuckling as she wandered away—brain slightly foggy as she downed her cup in her hands once more.

Y/N winced slightly, eyes scanning the table as she tried to remember what Beomgyu picked up to create his vodka mix. Behind her, a drunk freshman slinked into the kitchen and wobbled to the loud music as he wrapped his arm around her waist.

“Hey, hotstuff.” He greeted, smiling as Y/N spared his a quick glance and pushed his hand off her waist. “Don’t be like that.”

“I don’t know you.”

“Well, I’d like to know you.” the boy slurred, leaning closer. “What do you say you and I find some place more quieter to, ah, get to know each other a little better.”

“No, thank you.” Y/N rolled her eyes in irritation. “Not interested.”

“Come on, babe—“

“No,” Y/N scrunched her face up, eyeing the kitchen doorway as she clutched the bottle of vodka in her hands. “I have a boyfriend.”

“You do?” The boy replied. “I don’t see him anywhere.

Her eyes darted out to the living room where Soobin and Beomgyu were too busy talking to Mark Lee. Taehyun and Kai were still nowhere to be found. The freshman started to inch closer and closer.

Before he could take another step closer, a figure strides over and wraps a hand around her waist. Yeonjun brushed his hair back and placed his gin bottle on the kitchen counter. Y/N frowned as she noted this—wasn’t he drinking soju earlier? How many bottles has he been through? Yeonjun brushed the back of his hand across his lips before smirking over at the freshman.

“Sorry, man. Off limits.” Yeonjun shrugged, a slight slur to his words as he tightened his grip on the girl. “This one’s mine.”

“Oh,” The boy raised his eyebrows, challenging. “Is she?”

“Mhm,” Yeonjun grinned impishly as he felt Y/N relax in his arms. “Prettiest, smartest, sexiest girlfriend ever—sorry. Better luck next time.”

The freshman, grumbling to himself, shoots both of them a glare and stalks away towards the crowd in the living room. Y/N bit her lip, cheeks burning red at Yeonjun’s words. As soon as the boy was out of sight, Yeonjun turned to take his gin bottle and take a large swig.

“Yeah, okay,” Y/N shook her head, taking the bottle away. “How many has it been?”

Yeonjun shrugged, grinning as he tightened his grip on the girl.

“I think I deserve a thanks for saving you.” Yeonjun raised his eyebrows expectantly, tilting his head at the girl.

“You’re right, you do.” Y/N sighed, smiling softly. “Thank you for saving me from the kid, I guess.”

Yeonjun laughed, releasing the girl from his grip as he nodded.

“It’s no problem. You can call for me anytime,” he hummed, shrugging. “You know, because you’re mine.”

“Uh, the guys isn’t here anymore. You can dropped the act.” Y/N said, gesturing to the space around them.

Yeonjun only smiled, giggling to himself.

“You’re my girl.” He giggled, eyes narrowing to slits as he smiled to himself. “Mine—My girlfriend. You shouldn’t forget that!”

“I’m not your girlfriend.”

Yeonjun’s eyes snapped open, a surprised expression on his face.

“Oh okay. You still love me, though. Right, Y/N-ie?”

Y/N’s eyes widened, blinking in surprise as Yeonjun looked down at her in genuine confusion. The girl ran a hand through her hair—tipsy brain working in full capacity.

“Okay, I think you’re drunk. We should go home.”

“No, I’m not!” Yeonjun argued, waving his arms. “I’m like… just a little!”

“Tipsy.”

“Yeah!”

“We’re going home, Yeonjun.”

“No!” Yeonjun whined as he pulled on the girl’s hands.

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows in concern as Yeonjun pouted and grumbled. Her eyes fell back down to the empty bottle of gin he was drinking.

“I’ve never seen you like this before.” Y/N commented, hesitating before allowing her hand to run through his hair. “How many bottles has it been?”

Yeonjun closed his eyes and hummed happily as he felt her brush his hair back.

“Like three—I swear I’m still okay.” Yeonjun replied, furrowed his eyebrows. “I can still think—I think.”

“You think?” Y/N raised an eyebrow, scoffing.

Yeonjun hummed, smiling down at the girl before cupping her face in his hands. Y/N yelped as she felt his cold hands on her cheeks—eyes locking with his warm brown orbs. She slowly raised her hands to cover his on her face.

“What are you doing, you idiot?”

“Nothing.” Yeonjun hummed. “You just look so beautiful. I want to kiss you. Can I?”

Y/N blinked gulping as Yeonjun furrowed his eyebrows. Her heart warmed at the thought that despite the haze of his thoughts because of the alcohol he consumed—he still asked. Should this be any other day, Y/N might have remembered that day in high school when she saw him pin Yerim with kisses against the lockers. Maybe she would’ve remembered that she’d been pretending to have hated him—to have lost her love for him—all this time, and that it was an act she’s still trying to uphold. But right here, right now, with alcohol in her brain and confidence running through her system—she finally released her inhibitions as she leaned forward and pressed her lips against his.

Y/N felt his hands fall to her waist, head tilting slightly as Yeonjun allowed his soft lips to glide smoothly against hers. She loosely wrapped her hands around his neck, lightly playing with the hair at the back of his neck. With a soft groan, Yeonjun turned her around and helped her sit on the kitchen counter. He settled himself between her legs as he deepened the kiss—moving towards her neck with a soft sigh.

“God, Yeonjun.” Y/N whimpered when she felt him suck on the junction between her neck and shoulder.

Her head fell on his shoulders, groaning softly as she allowed the boy to press more hickies on her neck. Yeonjun’s hands climbed up her shirt—staying still on her waist as he moved his lips back to hers to mumble his thoughts.

“I’m so in love with you, Y/N.”

At this, her eyes flew wide open. Her brain registered the current situation as she pushed his away, jumping off the counter as she waved her arms around and stepped away from him.

“What the fuck—What the fuck is happening?”

“What do you mean?” Yeonjun asked, confused. “Why did you pull away?”

“Why not? I’m not supposed to be kissing you—I hate you!”

Yeonjun blinked, a small frown on his shoulders as he looked down.

“Do you love Soobin more than me?”

“I-I don’t—“

“I-I missed you so much,” He started to sniffle. “I loved you so much, but you never loved me back.”

“What are you talking about?” Y/N asked, voice raising in pitch as she blinked at the boy. “Are you crying?”

“I’m allowed to have feelings,” Yeonjun sniffed, wiping his eyes. “I dated Yerim because you told me I was your best friend forever—I knew you didn’t like me. Why would you? Then Yerim came up to me and asked me for a date—I figured why not? I wanted to get over you as soon as I could, anyway.”

Y/N gaped as the boy’s eyes regarded her with the fondest look as he stepped forward. He hands flew to her hair, grushing it behind her ear as he spoke in the softest voice she hasn’t heard from him in years.

“But I don’t think I ever did. That whole thing in the hallway happened with you and I was so devastated—I think my heart broke to pieces that day, but I still didn’t understand why I was still so in love with you, and why I stayed in love with you all these years until now.” Yeonjun mumbled, pouring his heart out to her.

Y/N froze, eyes tearing up as Yeonjun sniffled and slowly wrapped his arms around her waist. His head rested on her shoulder, closing his eyes as he felt her arms encircle his torso.

“Why did you leave me?” Yeonjun whimpered softly.

“I don’t know.” Y/N answered softly. “I was hurt you didn’t love me.”

“But I did.”

“I didn’t know, Junie.” Y/N replied softly, hands running down his back in comfort as he stopped sniffling. “I really didn’t.”

“Please don’t date Soobin.” He whispered quietly. “Stay with me. Don’t leave me—I still love you.”

“Yeonjun, I think I still love you too.” Y/N smiled to herself, biting her lip.

Yeonjun’s hands loosened around her waist and his head felt heavy on her shoulder. She could feel Yeonjun’s body slumping forward on her. Y/N raised an eyebrow, turning her head towards his.

“Are you seriously sleeping right now?”

There was no reply, only the soft snores of the boy in her ear.

Y/N smiled, running a hand through his hair.

“Night, Junie.” She whispered into his ear, smiling as Soobin and Beomgyu finally finished their conversation and bounded back into the kitchen with Kai and Taehyun in tow.

Soobin smiled as Beomgyu, with the help of Kai and Taehyun, lugged the sleeping boy towards his bedroom. He couldn’t help but notice how she looked after the figure of the sleeping boy, even after he was settled in and safely tucked into Beomgyu’s bed and sealed behind a locked door. He couldn’t help but see how she softly ran her fingers across her lips with a smile, cheeks burning bright red as she continued to stare off at the locked bedroom door.

She couldn’t help but think how her pulse ran so fast whenever she was around that boy with the pink and blonde hair and the confident smirk—and how she felt sparks fly when she kissed him for the very first time.

215 notes · View notes

scoups4lyfe · 3 years

Note

Ok.. so I was unable to post this ask in the new format. So if those previously reached you.. I'm sorry .. now I really want to see a evil vs live fight. Maybe it's in daijis mind or they get separated. Also daijis the secondary rider right? Shouldn't he get an upgrade already? Ikki got many upgrade. Also why do you think Olteca kidnapped George? Again sorry if u got this ask several times. I am not quite sure the other ones which are the same ask reached you though:(

Revice & Intentional Writing Part 6

(The Daiji Analysis)

(TW: Mentions / talks of drug abuse / Suicidal Ideation)

EVIL vs. LIVE: And Why EVIL's Winning:

......nah, anon. I think this is the first I've gotten this kind of ask lol

Hmmmmmm evil vs live fight,,,,,, damn that would be fireeeeee

I think unless Daiji got a lot more assurance from his siblings, or like more love and confidence in himself tho, Evil would def come out as the winner lol

Kagerou,,, at the base of it all is Daiji's coping mechanism for his low self-esteem and enormous amount of self-hate

That's why Kagerou means 'Mirage'. Because Not only does he hide Daiji's actual feelings from others; but he ALSO hides them from himself (Daiji).

(honestly I keep saying 'oncE i poSt thE Ep 4 aNaLysIS' so because I've been clowning I'll just tldr; some stuff here for rn )

Right, I'll also paste in here the conversation I had with Nacho about the layers behind Daiji/Kagerou.

[LAYERS + our convo:]

me:

Like.... how Kagerou's name being Mirage (unless I got this wrong /mixed with a synonym. lmaoo) not only being representative on how Daiji sees himself as evil, because those traits seem to be the ones that stick out the most (evil/live thing) ---- while ALSO representing the fact that Kagerou is acting as a mirage for Daiji's self-hate; so when Kagerou says or doesn't something what he's doing is deflecting the truth with something justtttt close enough

---aka the idea that Daiji hates Ikki because he sees Ikki as an "attention-whore" when in fact its because Daiji hates himself for not being able to help Ikki / do anything himself and how Kagerou not only acts as a mirage to others on Daiji's actual intentions / feelings

(to some extent at least)

But that to Daiji ---he's being a mirage so that Daiji won't have to believe in the things that'll only lead to more self-loathing, things he doesn't want to believe or just can't in order to survive

Nacho:

All good man, you're right on the money, it's mirage. If this helps at all, it specifically means the mirage you see during severe heat, like a heat haze.

Me (reacting to the more specific meaning of Kagerou's name):

"Ooooooo. Fvcked cause those kind of mirages are made by the mind as something you wish was true...... so Daiji's thing with Ikki and the stuff that Kagerou says (to Ikki, about Ikki, just in general I guess), all being things Daiji WISHES were actually the case.

But y'know these mirages are always fake --- so its not just Daiji seeing the mirage, but also others seeing this mirage --So again, just shows that all the things they were seeing was actually just something fake.

And then, went off on an Ikki sidenote (lol)

"-yo sidenote, tell me if Im whackin in thinking this -- but sometimes the mom will say stuff to Ikki and I'm like 🤪🤪🤪. Like she says stuff about him.... not being empathetic enough, or something about how not everyone is strong and until he understands that he'll "forever be half a man"

Nacho:

LOL that's def a combination of Asian sexism and the classic single mom thing of "you're the man of the house" to their 5-year old son

Me:

"wayyy back when the episode originally aired I was like, "yeahhh mama san is RIGHT Ikki you gotta get ahold of urself" and now I'm like "Mama-san.....stop saying this to Ikki"

Nacho:

I've said before, like ages ago, about the whole thing of Papa-san being the goofball of his family of origin as a coping mechanism, and then it snowballing into his family as an adult not seeing him as reliable.

So it's basically like they have an absentee father in a way. Not completely, but they don't really see him as a parental role. That honor goes to Ikki of course "<33"

I mean Ikki did need a wakeup call...but so do the parents LOL.

Me:

oh exactly man like half the time I feel like the mom just says things

Nacho:

I get her. She says nonsense same reason Daiji does tbh. Gotta stay blind to keep functioning and not have a mental breakdown.

Like you said before. Y'know, you wanna BELIEVE Ikki's problems are easily fixable "hey just grit your teeth and get more empathy kid" and that your advice MEANS something, bc it means you have worth as a mother. Nvm that you never hold the dad accountable and delegated parenting to your eldest (plus sexism for your daughter blah blah blah). Anyways, if you keep believing that Ikki doesn't have issues that are your fault, never have to realize your mess-ups

It's basically Daiji and his heat haze LOL

Mama-san too must feel a lot of societal pressure to be a mother. She can't let herself realize her mistakes 'cuz that would really crush any self-worth she had. What's the use of a woman who can't find a good husband and be the perfect mother?

Me:

I'll never be over ep 9 of Revice. Everyone and their brother (hah) were literally driving Ikki into a mental breakdown. Like they were out there trying to speedrun it, and placing bets. Sakura getting mad at iKKi oooop. That one actually gets me.....mostly because she'd never been mad with him. and the stuff she said was just .....my Gosh---just shoot him man. With a gun. It would be more humane.

LOL...her whole "iKKi wHAT abOUT YOu??? WhERe dID Your NOSY-neSs go? HUh????"

Nacho: Oh Sakura, lights are almost never on in her mind.

Me:

I mean. I get it He's been the fix-er. The man of the house. The overparenting parent. He's not allowed to have mental breakdowns.

She's probably never seen him in that state before. So how dare he be like this when Daiji nEEdS hIM THe mosT

NACHO:

Yeah. It's literally the crumbling moment of becoming an adult. Realizing your parents are flawed and aren't superheroes And we all know Sakura's coping mechanism is to blow up a bit,

Nacho: See, like this is what I mean. Nobody ever apologizes for the right things

Me:

Yeahhhh.....see, originally I had this some problem with Ikki's apology to Daiji in ep 10 but upon retrospection....it was pretty good actually? Like if you have on the lens where Daiji wants to be relied on and trusted, then it makes sense---cause Ikki essentially apologizes for not believing or having faith in Daiji,;;; "You're really strong too, aren't you?" Originally -- when ur out here listening to Kagerou's nonsense You're like "lol Ikki.....it's nice that ur apologizing for not believing in ur brother. But this does not at all address the fact that you stole his dream from him" .......because if you see Daiji's hurt as "ikki became kamen rider, and stole his dream" then.... the apology just seems very lackluster? But if you see Daiji's hurt as him wanting to be relied upon, and trusted / needed thennnnnnnnnnnnnnnn It's an outstanding apology.

[End of the relevant parts of our conversation, so moving back to the Daiji analysis]

[Kagerou, EVIL vs. LIVE as an Allegory]

basically -- Daiji's continual failure to believe in himself / to be helpful or in some way contributing to his family was/is literally killing him.

(Me and Nacho have talked extensively about how...if the Igarashi Sibs hadn't been accidentally conscripted to Kamen Rider Service, their future would have....not ended well. Drug abuse, and possibly even suicide -- and I'm not just talking about Daiji here....:/)

Daiji -- imo -- would be the one more likely to fall into drugs. In fact, more than once his Kagerou story-line has given me actual direct visual flashbacks to drug-related things storylines in other visual media I'd already consumed.

Like the episode 15 Non-con giving me immediate flashes of what an intervention / 'forced therapy' would look like

Then of course there's Kagerou's love for "spicy" things/food/curry, and how Daiji has to deal with the aftereffects (once Kagerou leaves) of eating something hot/something he can't handle that hurts him at least on some physical level.

Blah blah blah. I could write a whole essay on how Kagerou/Daiji is just one big metaphor & allegory for drug abuse. But we're not here for that.

I mentioned the drug allegory/metaphor because Daiji's character was on a downward spiral from the moment Ikki transformed into a kamen rider while he did nothing. Like....Daiji really *REALLY* does not like himself.

My main theory for Daiji is that (as I've already stated <33) he wanted to help Ikki (for and foremost) which is the reason why he originally tries out for a military organization.

He wanted Ikki to rely on him. He wanted to be someone that can protect, not just be protected. He wanted Ikki to see him as an equal.

It's why he doesn't trust, (*can't* trust) Kagerou's (or his own really) words, or decisions. It's because he has no confidence in himself or his ability to make 'good', 'proper', or 'responsible' decisions.

Ikki's smothering forced Daiji into a position of learned helplessness. And when you're always the damsel in distress and no one lets you handle things on your own (even when you want to) it teaches you that your opinions aren't valuable and that you have no autonomy or control over your own life. That you 'need' to be helped or something will go wrong.

This is why he's so quick to shut-down during times of intense stress. (AKA the opening ceremony from ep 1 being one example). After seeing someone who Daiji equates to being of higher authority (Hiromi) fails to use the belt -- he starts to think to himself:

If someone that high up, that power, can't do it....how can I?

And then he's paralyzed by the crushing terror of failure. He's never been in-control of his life, and now with this life-or-death pressure added to his already suffocating terror? Well, that's it. Game over.

He freezes. Shuts down. Error 404 Daiji's checked out for the moment.

Now imagine you're in his position. You choke when you finally had the chance to make your own decisions, and fail to do everything that motivated you into that specific career choice when it was finally *needed* from you.

Already.....already you could never do anything on your own...and maybe you thought 'hey, I can do this.' But now that you've failed so spectacularly and have to be saved.....AGAIN....well? Maybe your brother and sister were right. Maybe you really can't do anything on your own.....

This idea of being trapped forever in a position of having no power or control over his own life, forever playing the role of the helpless, useless (worthless) member of the family. That kind of stress would build, along with the self-hatred.

'Why couldn't you do it? Ikki can. Sakura can. Why can you never do anything? See? Someone got hurt today because of you. You failed and now they got hurt. You HURT them, Daiji. No...you're not useless....you're something even worse.'

(blah blah blah....you get the point.)

Daiji's low self-worth continued to fall, but he held out on the hope that maybe? He could transform too? Maybe Ikki *wouldn't* sign with Fenix and the position would re-open? Maybe-- maybe, maybe, maybe.

Yoinks. We alllll know what actually happened :D....

Falling into 'drugs' wouldn't be all that much of a stretch to see happening to Daiji. He had no outlet for this despair and self-hatred. So it just continued to consume him alive. And of course that stuff (drugs) would affect your personality and etc etc etc. Now, ignoring the drug allegory, no matter which way you spin it --Daiji's self-hatred would've harmed him in some way.

Hence, the split. Kagerou forms.

Now, Daiji doesn't have to worry about Ikki or feel guilty over his brother being put in this position (because of his own failures), cause Kagerou 'changed' or 'hid' these stressors from him. Now, instead of it being guilt it's rage and hatred. Instead of forcing Ikki into this position, Ikki pushed him out of the way and *stole* it.

If you listen reaaaaal closely and watch what Kagerou says, especially knowing that he's a "mirage" of sorts for Daiji, you'll see how Kagerou hides the truth within the lie.

(more on this below)

More 'proof' or I guess fodder for my 'Daiji wants to be needed, he wants to be helpful and useful, and so resents himself when he fails to help, protect, or lift others burdens'.

Would be Ikki's Apology in episode 10.

Now, at first I thought this apology was lackluster asf (lol). 'Well at least he apologized....even though he resolutely ignored that Daiji's angry at him for stealing his 'dream' not for Ikki lacking 'faith' in him.

(#oh.....)

Upon hindsight, I realize that....that was Kagerou's 'mirage'.

It was never about Ikki stealing Daiji's dream.

.........It's Daiji's guilt at not being able to help -- never being able to help. Of having to watch from the sidelines while people get hurt and you aren't able to do anything about it.

Daiji feels like he's responsible for this.

(I'd say its something like Survivor-syndrome....uh that thing where in a traumatic event where you outlive someone else, you feel guilt for living when they died, etc.)

Except here -- Daiji feels guilt for his lack of ability. Now, if Ikki gets hurt -- then it's *HIS* fault. If Ikki hadn't been at Daiji's ceremony, if Daiji hadn't froze....then Ikki never would have been put in the position of Kamen Rider. He wouldn't have to go out and actually risk his life fighting monsters.

So in 2 photos up, when Kagerou says lines like:

"You're the reason I was born, Ikki."

If you consider this being said by a "mirage".....the imaginary 'oasis' hiding the truth of the desert's hellscape....

Well, then it makes more sense to think that Kagerou is pinning the blame on Ikki, when in fact Daiji is the reason. But again, half-truths, because although Kagerou formed because of Daiji....it *was* in part because of his guilt over Ikki's situation, and his continued failure to be anything but helpless.

(ergo having to continue to rely on Ikki, continually burdening Ikki because of Daiji's failures, etc.)

"It was YOU who erased Daiji all along, ONII-SAMA!"

I find Kagerou and Ikki's conversation during their battle to be....really interesting....

I: "Do you resent me THAT much?"

K: "Daiji does, not me!"

Again, Daiji projecting the resentment he has of himself, onto Ikki. Kagerou hiding Daiji's self-hate by blaming Ikki instead (for Daiji). See, if you notice....Kagerou openly admits that *he* doesn't resent Ikki. 'Daiji does.'

Again, half-truths.

Kagerou doesn't resent Ikki...but neither does Daiji. Daiji resents himself, but Kagerou's 'mirage-ing' that from both Daiji AND Ikki.

Ikki's apology for essentially not trusting Daiji -- for not seeing his brother as an equal (because Ikki's the parent, not the brother), and his apology for not seeing or realizing that Daiji wanted to be trusted and relied on are enough to reach Daiji through Kagerou's veil of projected hate.

Of course, Kagerou beat the sh*t out of him (cause Ikki can't hurt his siblings.....not when he raised them......not when they're literally more important than his life) so Ikki isn't able to fight the remaining monster.

At this point he has no choice but to rely on Daiji. (And he's learned that his lack of trust was hurting him, so Ikki won't do that again.) So....he accepts the help. (Tho, he's not doing this for himself --- he's doing this for Daiji) and uh :D......Daiji's face after Ikki says:

"I'm counting on you, Daiji."

Idk. Combine this with episode 15, when Kagerou flips joyfully when Ikki summons him and tells him its because he 'needs his help.' (lol) The picture really paints itself.

So going back to what I said earlier about EVIL vs. LIVE dueling it out:

'I think unless Daiji got a lot more assurance from his siblings, or like more love and confidence in himself tho, Evil would def come out as the winner lol'

Daiji's learned helplessness continually shoots him in the foot. Kagerou then took that injured foot, ran with it ....right off a fking cliff. Since, Daiji doesn't know how to 'live' by himself / on his own (which is why his title is LIVE vs. EVIL) --- the traits that are really magnified during this time of him trying to learn how to ...idk literally 'live' I guess, are his worse-r traits.

His 'EVIL' traits. (His helplessness. And then when Kagerou actually manifested and tried to kill his brother LOL!!!!)

If you watch in episodes 11 and 12 -- right after the Kagerou arc, Daiji is so unsure of himself, that he waits to see what either Ikki or Hiromi will do before doing something himself. That's because he doesn't trust himself to make the right decision.

It's kinda fascinating to watch actually.

Like Daiji literally lets Hiromi tell him his sob story (that came out of no where lol) because he'd rather stop and listen to that, then to run off and start the battle first / on his own.

Or when he waits to see what Ikki will do about Sakura's Karate instructor. When Ikki commits to fighting, Daiji commits immediately afterwards. You can literally see as he dings off in his head 'ah so this is the right choice' lmao.

See, this lack of trust Daiji has in himself hasn't really gotten much better? Like episode 13 helped majorly, when Ikki trusted him to handle it

(though Kagerou showed up, so like 2 steps forward 3 steps back :'oo. )

And then it was also good (for Kagerou at least) in episode 15 when they ask him for help. But the lack of consent from Daiji is....not great to say the least. Really shows Ikki's 'parental override' over any opinion or say Daiji *should* have....esp in a matter concerning himself.

So for Daiji this translates into 1) them not respecting his say -- aka silencing Daiji's voice---and Daiji realizing that on some level.

And

2)"Kagerou" was preferred over "Daiji." Again, doesn't really do much to affirm Daiji's own self worth lol.

So basically Kagerou / EVIL would win in a fight between the two of them because Daiji wouldn't have the confidence in himself (which is why he didn't fight Kagerou back in episode 9, he verbally disagreed, but had no power over Kagerou) and Kagerou? Kagerou's all about his own self-interest.

While Daiji's drowning in doubts Kagerou's already got out the gun (basically.)

ANWAYS

I have NO idea why I decided to write all the above nonsense for this ask I'm so sorry LOL.

Yeah I believe Daiji IS the secondary rider. No idea about upgrades....honestly I'm curious too. I'm hoping for something amazing for Daiji and Sakura,,,,,mostly because I really like how the plots has progressed and so I feel like the writer...y'know....hasn't let me down yet (lol.....)

But I hope they get upgrades soon :O!!!

And for Oltecca kidnapping George.....no idea :D. My first guess would be 1) It's because George is the brains of Fenix's operations 2) to use George,,,,to....idk? Someone mentioned Oltecca perhaps getting George to build him a belt? Idk....lol

Oltecca strikes me as an opportunist. He might have just seen George out stalking for info, and was like 'wow....the golden goose out from its protected base in the sky.... >:)))'

Again,,,, no need to apologize for asks lol. If y'all sent in the same ask like 4 times I'd be like "lol what happened here :DD" and then answer the first one, and save the other asks for either

1) jokes, or

2) spaces to answer the same question in a different way or

3) to clown

LOL!!!

6 notes · View notes

spencers-renaissance · 4 years

Text

Start With This

Summary: Luke accidentally hurts Spencer because they are both hopelessly stupid, but when Spencer's faced with a dangerous situation there's nothing he wants more than Luke. Calling him turns out to be a very good decision.

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Misunderstandings, Making Up, Getting Together

Pairing: Luke x Spencer

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: implied/mentioned sexual assault, more detailed cw on the end notes of the AO3 post <3

Read on AO3

Luke knows he’s getting obvious. His subtlety has completely thrown itself out the window, his dignity’s in the wind, and he’s so, so painfully aware of it all.

He was probably in love with Spencer before he even met the man: his reputation had preceded him -- as he’d told him that first day in the briefing room -- and the way his friends talked about him, the gentleness he seemed to possess along with the dynamite intelligence of a 187 IQ had his stomach fluttering as he walked in to meet him for the first time. And hadn’t that just sealed the deal.

Spencer’s face as he walked into the room feels like it’s been permanently burned into the back of his eyelids ever since. He’s not sure what he’d been expecting but it certainly wasn’t someone so adorable. He’d been so open and welcoming and they’d hit it off straight away, every look shared between them, every joint task on the case in Arizona had him buzzing with excitement. If he could spend every waking moment with Spencer, he would.

And he’s been so good at keeping it under wraps, but lately the looks the girls and Rossi have been sending his way are a bit too… knowing. Like they see right through him. It’s terrifying, really. He’s never had a bad coming out story, mostly because he didn’t until his late twenties when it was much less taboo to be gay and he was surrounded by people who cared far too much about him as a person to care about who he fucked. But he’s also never had a crush on a coworker before, not even a friend, so to be under so much scrutiny in a situation that feels so out of his depths is overwhelming to say the least.

The next case they take on, then, he takes extra caution to be subtle. He volunteers to pair up with others before Emily can assign him something with Spencer; he ignores the looks he directs his way and leaves him behind to room with JJ while he pairs up with Steven. Maybe it’s even more obvious, maybe the looks he’s getting now are far harder to deal with than the ones before but he’s made his bed. Now he’ll lie in it.

And he’ll pointedly refuse to acknowledge the hurt looks Spencer is shooting his way. It’s better to ruffle a few feathers now and get over his crush than ruin such a good friendship and drive a wedge through the team, even if his gut twists and his heart protests as Spencer furrows his brow and looks at his feet.

★

Spencer is fully aware that his chances with Luke are slim to none -- he’s not delusional -- but boy does it hurt being avoided like the plague. It takes him back to school, when he was either politely ignored, mocked from a distance or straight up bullied, when nobody could associate themselves with him without risking a beating of their own.

As soon as the case is over, he declines Emily’s invitation to go for a drink at her place with the rest of the team, instead opting to go out by himself. There’s a small, hole-in-the-wall joint a few blocks from his apartment that he’s been to a few times; it’s low-key and reasonably quiet, and the food is nice, too. It’ll do him good, he thinks, to get out of his head a bit with a few drinks and a book or three. He’s met the guy who owns the place a few times, and no-one pays enough attention to care that he’s reading a book at a bar instead of solemnly staring into a pint or gyrating on the dance floor, neither of which especially appeal to him.

As predicted, the bar is quiet, so he orders a drink and some nachos and heads to a table in the back. He used to hate bars; so full of people and germs he tended to avoid them at all costs. Now though, he finds the background noise soothing, the chatter and music a comforting backdrop to his own isolation. And on days like today, after difficult cases and tricky emotional minefields to navigate, it’s the perfect setting to sit quietly and read, far more preferable than the deafening silence of his apartment.

For some reason, though, he simply cannot get his mind off Luke. He was so hopelessly gone for him and it was making everyday tasks that much harder. Even psyching himself up to get out of bed and go to work was proving more and more difficult: knowing he would have to face the man he loved so much who clearly did not love him back was bordering on psychological torture at this point.

His one saving grace, though, was that he’d always been able to take refuge in the fact that they were friends. That even if he could never have Luke kiss him or take him on a date or sleep in his bed, he could have his friendship. He’d have the warm smiles and hugs and inside jokes and that would be enough. But now even that was seeming like a farflung pipe dream. Had he figured him out? Did he realise Spencer’s feelings for him and feel disgusted? Violated even?

It’s only after Spencer’s been reading the same page over and over for nearly 10 minutes that he gives up and orders another drink. If he can’t distract himself, he may as well drown his sorrows now he’s here.

And drown them he does. He finally stumbles onto the pavement outside the bar in the small hours of the morning feeling a little dazed and confused, and he squints his eyes as he tries to get his bearings. He lives round here, he knows that much, but where? He’s looking around for a taxi when a man he’d seen sitting not far from him in the bar approaches him.

“Hey, baby,” he grins, checking Spencer out as obviously as he’d been doing inside.

It takes Spencer’s mind only a few seconds to recognise that he’s in a potentially vulnerable or dangerous situation but he can’t for the life of him sort through his muddled brain fast enough to figure out the correct response, here. Instead he stares dumbly at the man in front of him, trying to not look as scared as he feels.

“You looking for a good time?” the man asks, reaching a hand forward to pet crudely at his face. Spencer wishes his flinch wasn’t so obviously borne from terror, but he’s sad and drunk and confused so all he can do is shake his head aggressively and back away. “Aww, come on. I’m a catch, I promise.”

Spencer jumps back further, his back hitting a brick wall as he finally finds his voice. “No, leave me alone, thank you,” he says, trying to sound firm but only sounding scared shitless. The man is huge, Spencer is not, and the street is quiet. Spencer does not like any of these variables, let alone a cocktail made from them.

The man laughs cruelly, but before he gets a chance to respond another beefy guy he recognises from inside the bar comes over, cigarette in his hand, and clocks the situation. “Oi,” he shouts aggressively, approaching the two of them. “Who the fuck do you think you are? Dude said no.”

“Oh yeah? And what are you gonna do about it?”

Before Spencer can blink, the beefy guy punches his assailant square in the eye, causing him to cuss them both out before telling Spencer he isn’t even worth the trouble and leaving to lick his wounds. “Hey, you okay?” the beefy dude asks, voice much softer when talking to Spencer. “You need me to call someone?”

At this moment, the only person Spencer wants is Luke. He’s shaken up and so sad, and even if Luke is sort of the reason for that, he has to try, right? Maybe… maybe he just was having a bad day and it isn’t Spencer at all. He could call JJ but even her cuddles wouldn’t scratch the itch that’s burning away at his skin, so he finally shakes his head at the guy looking at him with concern. “No, no it’s okay,” he says slowly, voice catching a little. “I know who to call.”

★

Luke also says no to Emily’s invitation, instead heading back to his own place and cracking open a bottle of wine before plonking himself in front of the team and appreciating the cuddles Roxy chooses to bestow on him. He throws in an oven pizza sometime around 11pm and eats it, laughing humourlessly at the scene for a moment. God, if his colleagues could see just how pathetic he is Emily would have to boot him off the team.

The wine and the warm temperature of the room have him dozing off on the sofa by midnight but he’s woken up abruptly by his phone ringing not long after. The clock on the wall says 1.50am so this is either a case or an emergency; blearily he picks it up to see Spencer’s name on the screen and he can’t slide his finger to answer it fast enough.

“Spencer?” he asks, voice full of concern.

The only reply is a choked off sob, making Luke sit up on high alert. “Spence, what’s wrong?” his voice is gentle but determined, he wants to know what’s wrong so he can fix it damnit.

“Can you-- Can you come and get me?” Spencer asks tearfully. He sounds hesitant like he thinks Luke might say no or be angry with him which doesn’t make any sense. He’d never feel like that, not for anything Spencer needs from him.

“Of course,” he reassures him, gently, still a little bewildered by the absurdity of it all. He springs into action and leaps off the sofa, slipping into some trainers and grabbing his keys. “Where are you, Spence? I’m on my way to the car.”

Spencer rattles off an address before he says, “Wait, don’t go, can you stay on the phone with me?”

Luke’s heart damn near melts at that but he obeys and stays on the phone with him, mumbling platitudes and promising he’s on his way the whole five minute drive until he pulls up in front of the address Spencer gave him, immediately spotting the younger man hunched down against a wall. He parks the car quickly and rushes over, crouching down in front of Spencer and gently pulling his head away from his knees so he can look into his eyes. He immediately recognises he’s drunk and sighs internally, hoping this won’t be too impossible.

“Hey, Spence, what’s going on?” he asks earnestly, holding onto the man’s forearms partially to help steady himself and partially to offer a noninvasive point of contact for Spencer.

“Sad,” Spencer says, looking into Luke’s eyes with wide, honest eyes. “You’re angry at me.”

“What?” Luke asks incredulously. “I’m not angry at you, Spencer.”

“Yes,” Spencer nods enthusiastically. “You wanted to work with other people on the case today. You were ignoring me.”

He’s not quite slurring his words but it’s close, and if Luke wasn’t so concerned about the situation at hand he’d find it adorable. “Oh, Spencer, no,” he protests, a sinking feeling in his chest. His own insecurities and fears had got the better of him and he’d managed to make Spencer feel bad about himself. “That was unrelated and not your fault at all, okay? It’s complicated and definitely not a conversation to have on the ground outside a bar at 2am, but we can talk about it somewhere else if you’d like. Do you want me to take you back to your place?”

Spencer looks back at him. “No, don’t want to be alone, please don’t leave me on my own, Luke,” he says, eyes wide in fear this time, not honesty.

“Okay, okay,” he placates him. “Would you like to come back to mine?”

Spencer launches forward to hug Luke, burying his face into his neck and Luke takes the opportunity to relish the feeling of Spencer’s lithe body against his own, the intimacy he craves so deeply finally being awarded in a small way. “Should I take that as a yes?” he chuckles.

As soon as they get into Luke’s apartment, he gets to sobering Spencer up. He’d managed to pry the number of drinks he’d had out of him in the car, and as soon as they get back he butters him some toast and gives him a glass of water to drink on the sofa while he fills up another glass and grabs some advil.

“How’s that, Spence, are you okay?” he asks softly as he joins him on the sofa where Spencer is dutifully munching down the toast while late-night TV plays in the background.

“Yeah,” he whispers, smiling up at Luke, already looking more lucid than he did on the street, though he suspects part of the reason was he was scared and a bit disoriented then and now feels safe. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Spencer,” he smiles back, patting his knee affectionately as he pours him another glass of water. “Have your toast and another glass of water and then you can have a shower, if you like. It’ll help ground you and warm you up a bit.”

Spencer’s compliant through it all, which is obviously desirable, but he’s also quiet. He takes the hoodie Luke chucks his way without comment and slips it on -- Luke very pointedly does not think about how good he looks -- before looking to him for his next direction.

His eyes are much clearer now and he seems far more sad than drunk, so Luke steers him back to the sofa and hands him a blanket. “Hey, Spencer,” he says, waiting for him to look up before continuing. “What’s going on? Why did you need me to pick you up?”

Spencer fidgets with the blanket as he answers. “Well, I went to the bar to stop thinking, like distract myself, but it didn’t really work so I just decided to have some wine instead, which was really nice and I liked the fuzziness, but then when I left there was this man. He came up to me and was trying to… like he was trying to ask me to sleep with him,” he risks a quick look up to check if Luke is listening to him but averts his eyes from the intense stare when he realises he is. “But I couldn’t remember what I was supposed to do and I panicked but then this man came out of the bar and he punched the other guy and helped me but then I called you so he didn’t have to do anything else.” His voice is nervous as he talks, clearly unsure of himself from the way he darts around from point to point, his typical eloquence evading him.

“I’m sorry, Spencer,” Luke says, earnestly. “I’m sorry that happened to you but I’m even more sorry that you were sad enough to drown your sorrowsbecause of me. Tomorrow, I promise we can talk about this and I’ll explain everything, but right now I think you should sleep. You can take my bed or the sofa tonight, whichever one makes you feel more comfortable, and then I’ll make you whatever you want for breakfast in the morning and we can chat. How does that sound?”

Spencer looks satisfied for now, cocking his head to the side. “Hm, can I have pancakes?” he asks.

Luke laughs fondly at that, leaning forward to ruffle Spencer’s hair lightly as he tries not to read into it when Spencer leans into his touch. “Are you kidding?” he teases. “You’re looking at the pancake maker extraordinaire right here.” He relishes Spencer’s giggle at that, pleased at how relaxed he looks now he knows Luke isn’t angry at him. “Pancakes in the morning. For now, where would you like to sleep?”

“The sofa’s fine,” Spencer says softly, a small smile playing over his face as he follows Luke with his eyes as he stands up to collect some blankets and pillows. “Thank you, Luke.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” he smiles back, and hands him the extra blankets and cushions. “We’ll talk in the morning.”

★

Spencer wakes up to the sound of dog paws on wooden floors and is momentarily confused -- he does not have a dog nor wooden floors -- before the events of last night flood into his head with a crashing wave of humiliation. He sits up abruptly, blinking his eyes against the soft grey light of the gloomy day, and looks around until he meets Luke’s eyes where he’s sat drinking a cup of coffee at the dining table.

He knows he’s flushing an embarrassing shade of red but he can’t help it, this whole situation is so bizarre. “Good morning,” he finally says.

“Morning Spencer,” Luke says, hiding his far-too-wide smile behind his coffee mug. “Did you sleep okay?”

He just nods and hums in response, before excusing himself and rushing to the bathroom for a small semblance of privacy. Looking in the mirror, he splashes his face with some cold water and fiddles with his hair until it’s sat the way he wants it to before taking some deep breaths in a vain attempt at composure. He’s sort of in love with Luke, being in his apartment like this is mildly intoxicating.

Eventually, he surfaces back in the main living area where Luke’s already started on the pancakes. “Hey, you good?” he calls over his shoulder as he flips the pan, a delish smell intoxicating the kitchen.

“I’m good,” Spencer confirms, joining him in the kitchen for a front row seat of Luke cooking. Chatting menially together as the pancake stash slowly builds, Spencer gathers all the toppings at Luke’s direction before they move to sit at the table and start tucking in, both trying to ignore the rising tension at what they both know is coming.

“You’re being so nice to me now but all throughout the case you barely looked at me, I mean you couldn’t even share a room with me in the hotel,” Spencer says after a few moments of silent apprehension as they have their first bites. “Is it… is it because I’m gay?” His voice drops to a whisper, face contorting from confusion to apprehension, feeling a little nervous that Luke might get angry now he’s reminded him of it.

“What, no, Spencer, of course not,” Luke says defensively. “God, I’m not a homophobe. The exact opposite, actually. I’m gay, too.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Luke puts his knife and fork down and runs a hand over his face as he psychs himself up. “That’s the problem. The truth is, I’m into you, Spencer, very much so. And I’m fully aware that you’re my best friend and you won’t feel the same way, so… that’s a problem. The others were starting to realise so I distanced myself, but it has nothing to do with you, it’s all me so please don’t blame yourself, alright?”

“Oh.” Spencer’s brain is short-circuiting.

“I’m sorry, I just needed to explain why I acted like that.” Luke apologises, sitting forward again. “I know this is probably making you uncomfortable, I can drop you back or call you a cab or something--”

“No,” Spencer says suddenly, snapping back into action as the information finally processes. Leaving right now is the last thing he wants. “No, I’m fine. Sorry, I’m just caught off guard. You… like me?”

“Well, yeah,” Luke smiles, a little awkwardly. “If you want to put it like that.”

“Oh.” He pauses for a moment as everything finally clicks into place. “We are both very stupid.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because the primary reason I was sad and drinking at a bar alone last night was because I am very much in love with you and feared you were pushing me away. That I’d lost my chance forever,” Spencer explains. “I don’t have much experience with relationships, so I didn’t know how to deal with it and when you started acting distant I did the same and… ran away, I guess.”

Luke’s glad that Spencer’s eyes are clear this morning and his eloquence is back or he’d fear he’s still somehow drunk out of his mind still and has no idea what he’s saying. “Oh.” It’s his turn to blank on a response.

“To be honest, Luke, I don’t know where to go from here,” Spencer laughs, a little awkwardly.

“Let’s start with this,” Luke says, getting up from his seat across the table and sliding into the chair next to Spencer, bridging the gap between the two before he kisses him gently. Spencer’s hand reaches forward to grip the front of his shirt, kissing back with just as much trusting desire as he feels Luke smile against his lips. They part at the kiss’ natural conclusion, pulling back to look at each other, tense awkwardness replaced with a new understanding of one another.

“Yeah,” Spencer smiles. “That feels like a good start.”

It’s a good start, but it’s by no means the end. The heaviness that had weighed between them for so long finally lifts and the lightness that replaces it means they both breathe easier, finishing their pancakes in between shy, cautious looks and shameless giggles. “Do you have anything you need to do today?” Luke asks as he washes their plates up, Spencer perched on the kitchen counter next to him.

“Nope,” Spencer says, smiling at the implication of such an answer.

“Well, what do you feel like doing?” he asks, wearing far too cheeky of a grin for Spencer to avoid leaning down and planting a kiss on his lips.

“Hm,” Spencer ponders, looking out the window at the rainy day. “I think movies and snacks would be perfect if I have you as company.”

“You smooth little thing,” Luke teases, poking Spencer’s side with a wet finger and delighting in the giggle that escaped his lips. “That sounds perfect to me.” He washes the frying pan last and quickly wipes down the kitchen before they head to the sofa, arms piled high with all the crisps, chocolate and cookies they can find in his cupboards. Spencer also digs about in the freezer and finds a pint of ice cream to share, which they feed each other bites of later in a sickeningly sweet, cliched moment of tenderness.

Luke chooses the first movie, picking out a Marvel film that Spencer ends up actually enjoying, though Luke can’t exactly say the same about Spencer’s choice, an obscure period piece from the 1960s. Still, he cuddles him close and pays attention to every minute. If it matters to Spencer, it matters to him.

And if wasting the day away with movies, snacks, and heart to hearts turns out to be exhausting enough that Spencer just has to stay the night again, this time sharing Luke’s bed with him and Roxy, then they’ll just have to make the absolute most out of such a terribly inconvenient situation. And they’ll deal with how to hide a 2 night love-fest from a team of profilers in the morning, because they’re far too oblivious to realise they already know.

Tags: @johanna-swann @pretty-b0yy

#criminal minds #criminal minds writing #criminal minds fic #ralvez #spencer reid #luke alvez #criminal minds angst #my writing

110 notes · View notes

ceruleanmusings · 3 years

Text

First and Foremost

Fandom: Big Time Rush Pairing: James Diamond x Mickey Mason (OC) Word Count: 5.7k Summary: Mickey goes to cheer James up after a brutal verbal beating by Gustavo. Contents: mild flirting, teasing, show-standard humor, sadness Tag: @mystic-scripture @foxesandmagic @witchofinterest @perhapspearl @raging-violets @lareiism @ocfairygodmother @ocappreciationtag

The bright orange vinyl began sticking to his cheek, trapping his heavy sighs against his warm skin but James didn’t care. Why should he care? It wasn’t as if he had a modeling gig to run off to so the inevitable red line pressing into his cheek could stay. It wasn’t as if he had an acting gig to prepare for so he could continue to lay flopped on the couch, feet dangling off the edge, wrinkling his clothes. It wasn’t as if he had a solo moment in a song to rehearse for so he could let his throat roll an agonized vocalization around in his chest.

He'd left Rocque Records hours ago and yet he still heard Gustavo’s shouts echoing in his head: “Stop smiling like that, I hate it!”, “A garbage disposal has better timing than you!”, “I could replace you with a mop and it wouldn’t make any difference!”, and his favorite, “Okay, do it again, but this time, SING ACTUAL NOTES!”

Clearly, Gustavo was wrong. …He had way better hair than a mop so, actually, it would make a difference!

James uttered another body wrenching sigh.

It just wasn’t fair. He spent so much time rehearsing, getting his vocals warmed up, loosening his muscles to better execute dance moves. He put his all into being a pop star! Okay, sometimes he could get distracted by the lights and the glitz and glamor but who wouldn’t? Pretty people wanted to dress him, sculpt his hair, perfect his image (not that they had to do much on that front), have them joint their ranks, put him in the spotlight where he belonged. Why was it a bad thing? When it came down to it, he wanted this. He always wanted this!

Kendall, Carlos, and Logan didn’t get it. He loved his buds, but that didn’t mean he didn’t see their eye rolls, hear their scoffs, or feel their dismissive aside glances when he talked about a potential modelling job or how he was, in fact, the best person to lead a song (or sing the whole thing, why split hairs?), or when he shared his dream of buying a house to turn it into a personal salon/display museum for his bandanas. (It makes sense to keep it all in one place!)

All he was trying to do was make his dreams a reality. It wasn’t as if he was pushing his buds off a cliff to get there. It’d happen eventually. It was inevitable. (The recognition, not the cliff-pushing.) He had the face, he had the voice, he had the talent, he had the body, he had the face. He was born for this life. He was meant to be doing this!

But no one else seemed to notice.

Groaning, James turned onto his side, tucked his arm beneath his head and curled his knees up to his chest. If Katie were around, she’d point and laugh at him, maybe say he was being a big baby or some other phrase with big words he didn’t understand. Thankfully she, the guys, and Mama Knight were off at an LA Kings game. He’d been looking forward to the game for weeks but going didn’t appeal to him after the day he had. He’d taken enough hits to watch other people get tossed around like a ragdoll.

Sometime later he heard the distinct sound of someone climbing the stairs to get to the swirly slide entrance and yet he still didn’t move. Instead, he watched dust motes float and around the shafts of gold light seeping in through the blinds.

“Hey, it’s just me.” Ordinarily James would’ve jumped up at the sound of Mickey’s voice, double-checking his reflection in his lucky pocket mirror to ensure he was presentable and his muscles were at their peak. He couldn’t let her see him at anything other than his best. He was James Diamond! He didn’t do mediocre! This time, though, he stayed still, listening as she came down the swirly slide, the rubber on her docs tapping against the ground on her dismount. It was the only time she didn’t knock before entering. The door was always open, and people came and went as they pleased, but not Mickey. She made sure to knock every time. It was polite, she explained, looking at them all as if they’d been raised by wolves.

He mentally followed her footsteps—always with that cute little bounce to it—around the back of the couch heading to the island until she came into view. She dressed comfortably as always: dread locks pulled back into a half updo with gold rings and cuffs, her favorite cropped white *NSYNC hoodie depicting the image of their first album cover, dark skinny jeans, pale blue docs and a makeup-free face. She never wore makeup except for occasions where it called for it such as appearances, interviews, and photoshoots. James never thought she needed it.

“I’m just picking up my Tupp…er…ware…” He watched as Mickey’s eyebrows collided and she leaned to the side, peering at him as if she didn’t recognize him on the couch. He didn’t blame her; he was sure he wouldn’t recognize himself if he could see himself right now. “James? Are you okay?” she asked, taking a few steps closer, tucking a lock behind her ear.

James’ lips pushed out another sigh. “I’m sad,” he replied. No sense in hiding the obvious. His lower lip already dropped to a pout upon uttering the words and he couldn’t fight the wave washing over him, dragging his mood further (if that were possible).

Shoving her hands into the front of her pockets she approached. “’Cause of Gustavo?”

“Yeah.”

“And?”

He blinked. “That’s it.”

Her eyebrow arched. “No it’s not. I can see it all over your pretty face.” Sliding a hand out her pocket, she wiggled a pointed finger at him, motioning in circles around his face.

“Hmph. At least you think it’s pretty,” he mumbled.

She sat on the floor in front of the couch, turning her knees to the side, propping her elbow on the cushion and her cheek on her fist while turning to him. He looked back at her, taking in her freckle dotted nose. Her dark eyes squinted for a moment, mimicking the small pull to her mouth until they both relaxed. “What’s up? Besides the Gustavo part. I was wearing soundproof headphones while recording my bass lines today—I still heard him through it. And while that sucked, I know that’s not the only issue.”

“Maybe I just wanted to be alone.”

“James, you can’t go an elevator ride without needing someone to talk to.” Her mouth quirked in the corner, bolstering the tease to her words. He managed a small smile. “Speaking of which. Where are the guys?”

“They went to a Kings game.”

“Are you meeting them there?”

“I didn’t want to go.”

Her eyes widened, dark brown lighting to reflect her surprise. “You didn’t want to go to a King’s game?”

James twisted his mouth to the side, shrugging. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go. Of course he wanted to go. Everything about hockey appealed to him: the crisp air filling his lungs, the crackling excitement plucking his energized nerves, the sharp snap of wood smacking against rubber, the scuffing of sharp blades on the ice, the cold adding a natural blush to his cheeks, the hot girls dressed in jerseys, the warm nacho cheese sliding down his throat, the way the bright lights lit him on his good side (both of them). But, even with the Kings and Ducks matchup, it wasn’t enough to get him off the couch.

“Well, what about hanging by the pool? It’s Golden Hour.” She reached out and poked his cheek. “Your favorite time of day.”

That was true. Nothing made his selfies better than the effect of a filter without actually having to use one. He thought about it for a second, shook his head, and sighed again. “I don’t feel like it.”

“Wow.” Her lashes fluttered due to her rapid blinking. A hum sounded behind her turned down mouth and she reached out, squeezing his knee. He felt a tug somewhere in the pit of his stomach at her touch, like a cork easing its way out of a bottle. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” Silence. Then: “It just doesn’t make sense!” And it all came pouring out, the frustrations and grievances. Not just from that day but from the past year and a half, from the start of it all. How they didn’t want him, they wanted Kendall. How no matter how hard he tried it wasn’t good enough. How, even though he had the talent, and knew it in his bones, it didn’t match the “fire” they looked for. How he was dragged along to form a group in a business he’d always dreamed of being in. How he was constantly shuttled back and forth between his parents, passed along like a discarded accessory. How he was overlooked time and time again (which he still wasn’t even sure how that was possible with his height and face and style.) How he was dismissed and taken as being “dramatic” when he opted not to go to the Kings game.

It was that feeling, the want—or lack thereof—which kept him glued to the couch. It seemed everyone could direct it towards anyone and anything else but him. No one chose him. No one wanted him.

The entire time he spoke Mickey stayed quiet save for the occasional hums to accompany her head nods. By the end she offered up a clicking tsk and a welcomed, “Aww, dude, I’m sorry you had to deal with all that.” She looked at him and he looked right back, wondering for a minute if they were having some sort of staring contest until he got cross-eyed and had to blink. Her shoulders shook with a quiet laugh, lips curling upwards in the corners. Silence stretched between them. James’s eyes widened slightly, taking on a pointed look.

“Is that it?” James finally prompted.

“Is what it?”

“Is that all you have to say?”

“…Yeah.”

“You’re not going to tell me I’m being dramatic? You’re not going to give me some advice? You’re not going to give me some pep talk?”

Mickey snorted. “And what kind of advice could I give you? To just get over it?” James nodded rapidly. “You’re upset. Telling you to get over it won’t change that. Besides, I get it.”

“You do?”

“That feeling you have to work twice as hard just to get the recognition you feel you rightfully deserve only to be overlooked?” She let out a little bitter laugh, twisting the end of one of her dreads around her finger. “Yeah. I know that feeling a little too well; life made sure of it.” A second later her eyes widened and then squinted, as if seeing something in the distance. Her eyebrows furrowed and she clicked her tongue. In a flash, she got off the floor and James watched her make quick strides to the door, opening it with a flourish only to pull it shut behind her. He stared at the swinging jackets hanging off the key shaped holder, an incredulous expression popping onto his face.

“Well thanks for the talk, Mickey! I feel so much better!” James called out to the closed door. He rolled onto his back, unfurling his legs, staring up at the tall ceiling. Geeze, first Gustavo, then his buds, and now Mickey. He thought people cared about him but clearly he was wrong! Why did he even like her in the first place?

A knock sounded on the door. Uncurling himself, James sat up, head tilting in curiosity. A second later the door opened, and a sheepish Mickey stepped through it. “Forgot, I don’t need to knock for myself,” she muttered, rubbing her palms down the legs of her jeans.

Nevermind, she came back. He liked her again.

She drummed her fingers against her thighs and then headed for the kitchen. “I’m thirsty. Do you want a juice box?”

James’s head bobbed from side to side. Now that his chest didn’t feel as if it would cave in, it felt “Yeah, I could go for one.” She pulled one from the fridge and tossed it to him. He easily caught it with one hand as he swung his legs down from the couch, settling on the middle cushion facing the tv. He popped off the straw and stabbed it through the foil-covered hole on top. He didn’t pretend it was Gustavo’s face beneath the straw. Not at all. He took a long pull of the watermelon flavored drink and swallowed. It helped, but only a little.

He watched as Mickey closed the refrigerator and started opening and closing a few cabinets. She pulled a few bowls out of one and set them on the counter and then pulled open a few drawers, taking out measuring cups and spoons and knives.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Well, there’s really no point in bringing back Tupperware that’s empty is there?” She asked, eyebrows lifting. “It’s downright blasphemy.”

His stomach quivered at that. Food? She was making food? As much as a small part of him still wanted nachos from the Staples Center, he could trade it for whatever she made. If magic existed, she possessed it with how good her food turned out. Not that Mama Knight’s wasn’t a great cook herself, nothing beat her cheesy potato soup or Fishstick Fridays or her amazing snickerdoodles, Mickey just tended to make more on the dessert side. And while his body was a temple and he treated it right, sometimes the temple wanted a big fat slice of pie. To please the Gods. (Him, James was the God. No matter how much Logan disagreed, the peasant).

“What are you making? Can I have some?”

“It’s a surprise but sure. It’s gonna take me some time, though.”

James reeled in his pout and protest, as much as he hated having to wait history showed it tended to be worth it. Shifting off the couch, he opened the cabinet beneath the tv and looked at the array of DVDs staring back at him. He bypassed his usual go-tos—Die Hard, Bring it On, the Entourage series, Fast and Furious, Step Brothers, Zoolander, Marley & Me—stopping at the smaller cases on the end, holding white discs with Mama Knight’s handwriting scrawled over the surface depicting dates from a few years back. James shuffled through the cases as if they were a deck of cards, stopping on one he remembered from freshman year, near the end of the season.

The Meadowlark High Coyotes were 7-9; they needed to win at least four more games to make it to the playoffs before their season was cut short. They were down by three points at 4-6 against Willow Grove High’s Rams with ten minutes left. Kendall had been benched for fighting after getting his face smashed into the plexiglass on a breakaway (it was a cheap hit). Carlos was ejected for leaving goal to bum rush the player who executed the hit, trying to pants him. And Logan sat on the bench, his nose buried in his roster book, scribbling away, making notes for the coach to review after the game. That left him the lone wingman to turn the tide on a penalty shot and any scoring chance he obtained afterwards. Yes there was another wingman, but he may as well not have been on the ice with James taking the lead.

He popped it into the DVD player and fell back into the memory of the day, sank into the swell of cheers, the shrill whistles, the thudding beat of his heart in his ears, the rush as he glided over the ice, carrying the puck to the goal shot after shot after shot. And the chanting, oh the chanting, it may as well have been tattooed on his heart: Dia-mond, Dia-mond, Dia-mond! Only his stick slapping against the puck broke the cheering. Crack! Crack! Crack! James rushed the goal and sent the puck sailing through the air, nestling in the top right and left corners of the net, lighting the lamp. The crowd went wild. His team rushed the ice, lifting him up in the air as sirens and whistles went off.

James paused on the zoom on his face, the light in his eyes and the flush on his cheeks. Someone had yanked off his helmet so they could ruffle his sweaty hair, which still looked good compared to the others, thank you very much. (Helmet hair was not something he ever had to combat, he made sure of it.)

They won. They chose him and he won. When he was picked, they all succeeded. That was the point.

He scanned backwards, watching the play in reverse, pressed play, and watched their victory unfold. Again. And again. And again. Forward, back, forward, back. Shoot, score, repeat. Every watch brought back another shot of exhilaration, another round of satisfaction pulsing through his veins. Gustavo had drained that feeling right out of him.

“What’re you watching?” Mickey’s head hung next to his as she leaned over the back of the couch. “Is that you? Oh, you were all so teeny!”

James pouted. He wasn’t teeny. Yeah, he was a couple years younger than now and had a bit of a rounder face but all the days playing hockey he’d shed his childhood weight. And he’d hit his growth spurt, so he was already taller than the guys in their class. Despite the slight sting of the comment, he answered, “Freshman year hockey game. Against our rivals, the Rams.”

“Did you win?”

James scoffed. “Of course we did!” Big Time Rush didn’t lose. Once they all joined the team, they were a force to be reckoned with. “All thanks to me, even. Kendall and the guys were benched for ‘unsportsmanlike behavior’.” His finger quotes stabbed the air as he rolled his eyes.

“Why? What’d they do?”

“Watch.” Within a few seconds the scene unfolded again: Kendall on a breakaway, for all intents and purposes prime for a good shot. Then someone from the other team bashed into him, clearly committing a foul. Kendall bounced off the plexiglass as sharp whistles and booing jeers filled the air. Cheeks red, either due to the cold or anger, Kendall threw down his stick and gloves, whipped off his helmet, and charged for a Ram. He managed a hit on one before two Rams came up, grabbed him, threw him into the plexiglass again, and squished his face against it, dragging it from side to side. Mickey sucked a hissing breath in between her teeth, face scrunching up to a look of pain.

“That looked like it hurt.”

“Hurt worse when the guy wasn’t even called for it—the refs were from their town,” James explained at the look of disbelief crossing her face. “But I get the penalty shot and score more goals to clinch the win for us.”

“Bet that felt good.”

He shrugged. Good wasn’t the right word. Amazing wasn’t the right word. He didn’t think a word existed to properly encompass how that day felt. He paused the video and scanned it backwards again, his thumb hovering over the play button as his eyes took in their reflections on the tv screen. Namely how close she leaned to his head. Turning to her, he eyed her close-up profile. “If you wanted to kiss me, you could just say so,” James said with a flirtatious smile. Motioning to her with the remote he added, “You don’t have to come up with an excuse to get close.”

Her head tilted to the side, her studying him this time. “Would it make you feel better?”

He blinked. Uh…what? That wasn’t what she was supposed to say. That wasn’t how things went with them. He’d flirt, she’d rebuff him, he’d try again later. That’s how their friendship worked, among both agreeing blue was, in fact, a flavor (suck it, Logan!), her helping him with English homework while he helped her with vocal work, taking trips to the farmer’s market for fresh ingredients (her for her cooking, him for his organic, clean, homemade facial mask), and splitting the s’mores skillet at Fun Burger on his cheat day. Not that he didn’t like this turn of events, he wasn’t stupid. Okay, so he wasn’t the brightest bulb in the spotlight, but he wasn’t that stupid.

Still, he shook his head and pinched his arm to be sure this wasn’t some sort of dream, that she had, in fact, asked if kissing him would make him feel better. His fingers pressed into his skin and a pinch of pain shot up his arm. His eyes widened. He was definitely awake!

“Uh…sure?” He mentally admonished himself, hearing how unsure he sounded. Who talked like that? Not him, that’s for sure. He was much cooler than that. He cleared his throat, deepened his voice, turned his eyes to smolder, and said, “I mean, yeah. We could give it a shot.”

“Okay, close your eyes.”

He did as he was told, eyes slamming shut. James’ chest swelled and relaxed as he took in and let out a long breath. Not that he was nervous. He’d kissed plenty of girls before. Hell, once he’d kissed three girls in a half hour (thank you spin the bottle!) So this was nothing to worry about. No big deal. It’s just Mickey. Just the girl he’d been into for the past year. His palms sweating had nothing to do with it, that happened sometimes. Not a lot. Okay, never. Not when it came to kissing girls. So it had to be some sort of new medical condition he’d need to get looked at. Along with the shaking. And his heart thudding against his chest. He made a mental note to get that looked at too.

He felt her hovering in front of him, close enough for that strange sensation to itch and curl beneath his skin, anticipation cracking like a livewire. A strong swoop lurched in his stomach when she asked “Ready?”, so close he smelled something sweet on her breath. Vanilla? A lock of her hair brushed against the side of his face, sending a shot of something pleasant down his spine.

He nodded, swiping his tongue against his bottom lip. (Not too wet, not too dry. Couldn’t have her thinking his lips were like sandpaper.) Breath? He thought back. Last thing he ate were a few ants-on-a-log back at the studio. Peanut Butter wasn’t what he’d go with, but it would do in a pinch.

Okay. You’re James Diamond! You’re in a world-famous band! You have great hair! You have great style! You have great lips! They’re perfectly pouty and pink and fantastic. It’s just a kiss. You can do this. Annnd….go!

James leaned forward, pursing his lips. Something touched his lips. His eyebrows lowered. Huh, her lips were a lot colder than he’d imagined. Just as smooth, though. And a little…pointy? What? Before he could react, something gave way and shot between his teeth, heading to the back of his throat. He coughed, the object shooting forward, bouncing on his tongue.

His eyes popped open, granting him the sight of Mickey and her shit-eating grin. His tongue rolled the object around in his mouth, smooth on all sides except for one point. A rush of chocolate swarmed his taste buds. A Hersehey’s kiss. He blinked, staring up at her.

“Did the Earth move for ya, honey?” she asked sweetly, her soft southern accent igniting the teasing sparkle in her eyes.

“Very funny,” James grumbled, chewing the cold bit of chocolate into small pieces. It melted fast on his tongue. Pushing a hand through his hair, he flopped back against the couch, doing his best to avoid her gaze. But that smile, so bright and satisfied, drew him back in and he found his frown lifting upwards.

Still grinning, she dropped down on the couch next to him. He noticed the plate in her hands, the surface covered with an array of purple swirls and designs resting atop white sponge dotted with color.

Funfetti cupcakes. His favorite.

She was forgiven.

------

“She moves left, she moves right, she goes left again-oh! Fake out! She’s on a breakaway! There’s no one standing between her and the net! Will she make it?” With a lunge, Mickey slapped a pretzel rod against the Oreo in the middle of the table. James dropped to his knees, opening his mouth in time for the cookie to slide against the smooth surface, coast past his teeth, and land on his tongue. Goal! “She does! She scores! And the Missles are the table hockey champions of the world!” Throwing her arms into the air, Mickey danced a little victory jig, chomping the pretzel rod in her hand as if putting an exclamation point at the end of a sentence.

Chuckling, James chewed the Oreo. Ordinarily he would already be mentally preparing his routine at the gym the next day to counteract all the sugar he’d eaten but he could skip it for one day. Tossing his own pretzel rod onto the table—he wasn’t going to make an exception for sodium, not when bloat could set in—he stood, brushing any miniscule bit of dirt off his knees. “Why didn’t you go to the hockey game again?” he asked.

Mickey’s eyebrow arched and she waved her hand around the room, motioning to the table, the leftover cupcakes sitting on the kitchen counter, and Bring it On playing on the tv in the background “And miss out on all this fun?” She winked and took another bite of the pretzel rod. “Not a chance.”

James smiled, a rush of warmth spreading through him.

The door burst open; Carlos, Kendall, and Logan rushed in, hooting, and hollering, waving towels and hats in a flurry. Katie and Jennifer entered behind them, wearing identical expressions, half of amusement and half of wariness.

“Hey guys,” Mickey greeted them, walking around the table. “How was the game?” Her answer came as a wall of sound when Kendall, Carlos, and Logan screamed in her face. Blinking rapidly, she wiggled a finger in her ear as she leaned away from them. “That good, huh?”

“It was awesome!” Carlos shouted. “First the Ducks were in the lead and then the Kings caught up to them but then the Ducks were in the lead again! And during the ice cleanings Bailey and Wild Wing came out and got into a shootout. And then they played musical chairs which is silly, you know, because why would animals need to sit on chairs—ooh! Cupcakes!” Breaking off, he made a dashing dive for the kitchen counter.

“Those are mine!” James shouted, making Carlos freeze with a cupcake halfway to his mouth. A whimpering sound fell out of his mouth as he looked back and forth between James and the cupcake.

“Be nice, there’s enough for them to have one,” Mickey said, rubbing James’s arm. “Go ahead, Carlos.” She barely finished her sentence when Carlos stuffed it into his mouth, paper still attached.

“Dude.” Kendall bumped James on the arm with the back of his hand. “We had to keep Carlos from tackling Bailey the lion for thumping Wild Wing’s bill in the stands. Could’ve used you to hold him back.”

“Is that the only reason?” James asked.

Kendall scoffed. “Of course not! I had no one else to cringe with when they messed up the National Anthem. You weren’t there to list off every stat for the Kings or the Ducks—down to what conditioner they most likely used.” James pushed a laugh out of his nose. “After the game ended, they let us skate around for a bit. T’somethin’ I always dreamed about, skating one of the biggest NHL rinks. Wasn’t the same without my wingman there to catch my passes without fail.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “We’re sorry we didn’t take your feelings seriously. Gustavo was rough on you today. We should’ve stayed with you, made sure you were okay.”

“You didn’t think I was being overdramatic?”

“Oh no, we totally did,” Kendall said, making James roll his eyes, “but halfway through the game I remembered that you get like that when it comes to things that are important to you. And it’s not fair for me, for us, to push that aside. So I’m sorry. We cool?” He extended his hand,

“We’re cool. You know I can’t stay mad at my bud,” James replied, clasping Kendall’s hand to pull him into a quick hug.

“And on that note, it’s time for me to go,” Mickey said, squeezing past them. Clutched in her hands were two Tupperware containers filled with cupcakes. “Are you feeling better?” Kendall’s eyes quickly ping-ponged between the two; he mumbled something about needing to polish his hockey puck and backed away.

James’ mind quickly scanned through a list of things he could say to keep her around a little longer. He came up with nothing. “I am, yeah,” James admitted. “Thanks for sticking around and keeping me company, Mickey.”

“Any time. If you ever want a rematch against the Missles, you know where to find me. We’ll be ready for you Diamondheads.” Leaning past James, she called out “see you, guys!” only to get distracted hand waves back from Kendall, Carlos, Logan, and Katie as they watched the game highlight on the news. She shrugged. “See ya, James,” she said, quickly tilting her fingers at him in a rippling wave.

He waved back, watching as she left the apartment. The door closed with a soft click. James turned on his heel only to stop in his tracks, noticing every pair of eyes in the room pointed on him. Eyebrows crinkling, his head tilted to the side. Usually he deserved attention, basked in it even, but he wasn’t sure what he did to get it this time. “What?” he finally asked.

“You were here with Mickey alone all afternoon,” Kendall said. “What happened?”

James shrugged, approaching the couch. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing. We talked, watched some hockey, and messed around.”

“So you never hit on her?” Logan asked.

Kind of. “No, not really.” Hershey kiss substitutes didn’t count.

“Dude! This was your chance!” Carlos sprayed bits of uneaten cupcake out of his mouth as he shouted. Uttering a noise of disgust, Logan wiped the side of his face, shooting such a scathing look at Carlos it made him behind Katie. James laughed at the sight.

“Yeah, that’s not like you, James. Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” Kendall said.

“I’m feelin’ great, guys, really,” he assured them. “Gimmie another cupcake.” As he reached for the plate in Katie’s hand, he spotted something white under the pillow Kendall leaned against. He yanked it out with one strong pull. “Oh shoot,” he muttered. He got a series of asynchronous what?s answered him. “It’s Mickey’s sweatshirt. She forgot it.”

“Give it to her tomorrow. She’ll be at the studio,” Kendall pointed out.

James took in Kendall’s nonchalance with an incredulous shake of his head. He couldn’t do that. Well…he could but he couldn’t. Even if the built-in excuse for her to come back to the apartment was enticing, he wouldn’t feel right holding onto it. Not when he knew of her attachment to it, not just due to how soft and comfortable the sweatshirt was but to the band as well. When he thought about not having his Lucky Comb on him, even for a second, it sent shivers down his spine.

“No, I’ll just try and catch her at the elevator.” Clutching the sweatshirt tight in his hands, James dashed for the door. It barely opened far enough for him to fit through before he found himself out in the hall. He ran around a corner, nearly clipping it, slowing when he heard Mickeys’ voice.

“Thanks again for being so understanding. I know it was last minute…”

“Girl, it’s okay,” Jo said back. Hmm? James peered around the corner, spying Mickey and Jo standing in front of the elevator doors. She clutched a rolled-up script in her hand. “We can always go another day. It’s no big deal.”

“Thanks. James just looked so…defeated.” Mickey’s nose wrinkled. “It’s weird. I’ve never seen him like that before. I just…I didn’t want him to be alone.”

“I get it. I’m not going to be mad at you for being there for a friend,” Jo said, waving her hand in the air. “Buut…you’ll also be extra forgiven if I can have a cupcake.” Her eyebrows wiggled as she tapped a quick rhythm on the Tupperware lid.

Mickey laughed, popping the lid. “No problem.”

Jo eagerly dove for a cupcake, peeling the paper off halfway before taking a bite at the base of the treat. She brought a finger up to her mouth as she chewed, wiping away a stray smear of cream cheese frosting. “So…you must really like James to cancel going to that pie making class you’d been looking forward to for weeks.”

What!? James pressed his lips together, biting on them. The pulse of pain fell into sync with his rapid heartbeat. Jo’s lips curled in the corners and, beneath the hallway lighting, James swore he saw devil horns pop up on her head.

Mickey rolled her eyes. James squinted. Was that a blush on Mickey’s cheeks or a trick of the light? “Don’t even start with me, I gotta deal with all that at home.” The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. Mickey stepped backwards into the elevator, jabbing at a button with her elbow. “…And I don’t not like him. But don’t tell anyone that!”

Jo mimed zipping her lips. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

Swallowing the yelp fighting to shoot up his throat, James turned and headed back to 2J. He slipped into the apartment under the noise of aliens and troopers getting blown up in Biohazard 5 and Carlos’ jeers as he held his hand in front of Logan’s face.

“Did you catch her?” Kendall yelled over the noise, eyes glued to the tv.

“No, I missed her.” James made a beeline for the bedrooms, a soft smile sitting upon his lips. “I’ll see her tomorrow.”

#let me tell you i have a ball writing james' internal dialogue #james diamond #mickey mason #big time rush #big time rush oc #not beta read #my writings #mickames #first and foremost

24 notes · View notes

gremlin-writes-angst · 3 years

Note

could i request an angsty shinkami fic? no specific thing just something angsty?

Thank you for the request!

1.8k words

Trigger warning: Cursing, toxic relationships

Let me know if I missed a trigger or if you spot any spelling mistakes.

Feedback is encouraged

Click here if you want to see more of my work and follow me for more!

Most people would agree that proposing to your partner is one of the most nerve-racking things a person can do. Even Denki Kaminari, the pro hero Chargebolt of three years, who faced countless villains would agree. It was Denki and Hitoshis second anniversary, they had started dating after highschool, Hitoshi making the first move, which was shocking to Denki. Though Denki was shocked he still agreed to go on a date with the lavender-haired hero. In honesty Denki didn’t expect to fall for Hitoshi as hard as he did, he thought they would go on one or two dates, but here he was two years later fidgeting with a black box in his pants pocket.

Denki decides that he liked cheesy proposal and decides he would propose where the two had their first date, at an arcade. He knew it was weird to propose to your boyfriend at an arcade but Denki couldn’t go back in time and tell past Denki that his first date with Hitoshi cant is at an arcade. Denki arrived early to make sure everything was set up and would go as planned, he played some of his favorite games, memories of their first date arose in Denkis mind. Soon he had played every game at least twice, and Hitoshi was late. It wasn’t unusual for Hitoshi to be late but for him to be this late and on this day, the day Denki planned to propose, it made Denki rethink his whole plan. Denki had considered that two years were a small amount of time compared to others who got married, he thought about the doubts his friend had expressed at the beginning of this relationship. Before, Denki could cancel everything one of the arcade staff members approached him and informed him that Hitoshi had arrived. The staff had been told to watch the parking lot for Shinso so that Denki could be prepared before Hitoshi entered the arcade.

Denki smoothed over his tuxedo and ajasted his bowtie, he would describe himself as dashing. He patted his pocket one last time to make sure the ring box was still there, then the bells ringed indicating that Hitoshi had ented the building. Hitoshi was dressed casually, something a college student would were, this made Denkis nerves rise even higher, noticing he was in such a nice suit and Hitoshi looked like he could care less, though he still looked handsome. The original plan was to play games, eat some greasy fries or nachos and then propose, but Denki had only rented the building and staff for so long. The new plan was to propose as soon as possible, so Denki got down on his knees as he heard Hitoshis voice and footsteps approach.

“I’m sorry for being late but I think we need to talk Kamin-”

His voice cut off when he saw his blonde partner on one knee as he feared. When Denki had told Hitoshi about their next date being at the same arcade that they had their first date, he was suspicious. Hitoshi wasn’t stupid he knew what kind of dates happened at couple’s special places on special days and Shinso wasn’t ready.

“ Hitoshi shinso, I’ve decided that I’m going to be the cheesy boyfriend. So will you make me the happiest, cheesiest man on this planet and spend the rest of your life with me.”

Denki had opened the black box to reveal the gold ring with a small purple gem. Denki knew that his boyfriend was a simple man and didn’t need a fancy ring, but he also couldn’t resist the combination of the two identifying colors.

“ Kaminari, I was trying to say that … I’m not ready.”

Denkis heart dropped for a second. He tried to calm himself, think of the positive. Weddings were expensive, and stressful. Most importantly Shinso would still be there for Denki, a no to a proposal doesn’t automatically mean a breakup. And the way Shinso rejected Denki , made it seem like Hitoshi wanted to marry Denki … just not yet. Denki was still shaken up but he tried to move on from the awkward situation, he stood up and put the box back into his pocket.

“ That’s fine. I’m the one who rushed into this whole marriage thing. I mean who would be ready to marry someone after two years.”

Denki’s sentence was accompanied by awkward laughter, hoping that they could move on from what Denki just did. But Shinso’s face told Denki that they were going to move on.

“ I’m not ready to let go of my secret weapon.”

Hitoshis words and the venomis tone he used confused Denki. Before Denki could ask what Shinso ment, he answered.

“I was so close to making the top 20, which is all your old classmates. Now you’ve gone and ruined it, you couldn’t wait. I was using you,Kaminari, to become popular so I could clib the hero board. I never loved you I was just trying to get noticed and you were stupid enough to fall for it, but you were also stupid enough to think I loved you.”

Hitoshis words were harmful but the way he acted like Denki was a child, like Denki wouldn’t understand if he didn’t, that was what stabbed Denki through the heart. Then came the realization that Denki was the 20th on the hero board. Not only was Hitoshi using him, but he was soon to replace him. The shock was so much it was unbelievable.

“Your lying, why would you tell me now if it was true. It’s just a cruel joke, right Hitoshi?”

Denki hoped it was a joke, he hoped so hard that Hitoshi could hear it in Denkis voice.

“ You Idiot, it’s not a joke. Did you ever realize how I never said ‘i love you’ back, or how I only ever called you Kaminari instead of your first name or a stupid nickname, it because I don’t love you. Everything I said is true and I just couldn’t take it anymore. I couldn’t take your voice, your jokes, your insecurities, I’m sick and tired of it all, were done Denki”

Shinso left, leaving Denki standing in the arcade alone, and unsure of what to do. Denkis thoughts raced, he began to realized that Hitoshi was no lair. He had never said ‘i love you’ when he had, and the only time Hitoshi called him by his first name was also the last thing he said to him. The only time Hitoshi called him Denki was when confessing that he never loved him, that it was all a publicity stunt. He was’nt sure if he would have preferred if Hitoshi never said that name, maybe it would be easier to move on if he had never heard the smooth voice say the syllables that made up his first name.

Bonus

He was broken from his thoughts when the staff told him that time was up. He walked back to his car, he began to drive home, realizing that he didn't want to be in a space where the liar had to soothe him to sleep when his insecurities were too much, the same insecurities that he now knew Hitoshi hated. He decided to drive to the only other person that could offer him comfort, Eijiro Kirishima. He arrived at the apartment building, and without memories of climbing the stairs or elevator, he was knocking on the door to his best friend’s door. The fake redhead opens the door with a smile, which faltered when his blonde friend stumbled into the apartment.

“Congratula-”

Mina and Sero's voices echoed through the apartment were cut off by a slapping sound caused by Katsuki’s hand hitting each of the exited idiot's backs, followed by a quiet warning from the explosive hero.

“Shut the fuck up you idiots”

Denki took notice of his friends and decorations that filled the apartment, making him remember that the plan was to bring his new fiances to Kirishima’s apartment to celebrate with friends. Denki’s eye began to water, remembering everything Hitoshi said, along with the fact that didn’t have the promised fiance, he was meant to bring.

“Hey it’s ok, shh, we’re not disappointed”

It was as if Eijro knew what Denki was thinking, and knew how to comfort him. It took a while but with the comforting touch and words of his friends, he was ready to explain what happened. After explaining what happened and reliving what Shinso said most of Denkis friends were in shock. The Explosive blonde who most expected to run off and fight the bastard was holding Jirou, because she was the one trying to run and put the mind controlling jerk six feet under.

After everyone processed and calmed down they began to comfort Denki again. Talking about how they never trusted the purple-haired boy or talking about things they hated about him. Denki knew that most of what they were saying was lies. Hitoshi, or at least the Hitoshi he pretended to be, was nice and loved by Denki and his friend group. They were happy for the couple and thought that Shinso was perfect for Denki. Except for bakugou who had the most opinions about the lower hero, along with some insight.

“ I told you there was something sketchy about him and the timing.”

Katsuki’s words were meant for Eijiro but everyone heard and questioned what Katsuki meant.

“ Well a year after we graduated, the bastard started asking people from our class out. Starting with Deku and half and half, eventually, he asked me and at one point, he asked Eiji out. Everyone rejected him until . . . Denki”

There was a pause as the rest of the group processed what was just revealed. Katsuki then started to talk again

“ I told Eiji that I thought it was weird that he was asking out all the guys from our class out, I assumed that it was to use us to climb the board. Which I know now is true, but when I told Eiji he said that I should be more positive and not make assumptions. I agreed, because of how happy the bastard made Denki, but I regret it now, I should have said something sooner, or at least give him a nice strong kick to the groin. Sorry I didn’t warn you Denki”

The last part was softer then anything Katsuki had ever said to Denki before.

“It’s not your fault Katsuki, but thank you. And ill be fine, I have you guys.”

“ And we could just expose the bitch for what he did, it will definitely knock him down the hero board.”

Sero pitched in, revenge was his way of showing Denki that he cared

“ Sell the ring and use the money to hire a hitman on him”

Everyone nodded at Mina’s idea of revenge was a bit more illegal than Denki was comfortable with. But it made him laugh and that was good enough for her.

“ No, I don't want to do that. Even though he used me he is still a good hero. I just want to forget and move on. And I'm scared that my friend, who are also heroes are suggesting murder.”

#angst #shinkami #shinsō hitoshi #denki kaminari #katsuki bakugō #eijirou kirishima #mina ashido #sero hanta #jirou kyouka

15 notes · View notes

childofhalloween · 3 years

Text

A Story With No Name Aka Why You Don't Ask Idoits for Dating Advice

So this was a short little one shot I got an idea for after binging Graystillplays Sims videos for days. If the formatting or anything seems off it's because I wrote it all on a phone. Well this short one shot turned out 9 pages long opps. So I hope you enjoy. Also writing an Austrillis slow burn not really sure where it goes but if anyone is interested let me know. Anyways onto the show! Thomas Alan Wenis better known as Tommy looked down at the paper in his hand. This address had to be a mistake. He had just flown down to Florida to get away for a while, see the ocean, maybe even clear up his depression. He hadn't brought much with him just an old suitcase and what little money he drained from his savings account.

That was exactly what attracted him to the random message board offering low rent living. With the price of rent all Tommy was expecting was a cot in a closet somewhere. Not that he minded as long as he had a roof and somewhere to put his black boots he didn't care.

But this, this wasn't right. Couldn't be right. The place was huge. Probably the biggest house he had ever seen. 4 floors are least and he could see the corner a large pool in the back.

He checked the address of his contact Melvin, and it matched. This had to be some sort of scheme. He knew it was too good to be true, like everything else in his life.

With a sigh he picked up his bag walking to the front door. Maybe they would be able to at least point him in the right direction.

Ringing the bell he sat out on the front step for a moment before the large oak door opened and a man dressed only in a towel and some sneakers opened the door.

"Uhhh hi. I'm sorry to disturb you but I am looking for someone at this address. His name is Melvin." Tommy said avoiding eye contact with the red haired man.

"Yeah that's me! Melvin Eugene Johnston. But everyone just calls me Florida Man." He said holding out his hand Tommy awkwardly taking it. "You must be Tommy!"

"Uhhh yeah. I'm sorry did I come at a bad time?" He said motioning to the towel.

"Huh this? Nah. Just like to feel a cool breeze if you know what I mean." He joked opening the door motioning for him to come in.

The place was almost too much for Tommy to take in but nonetheless followed Florida Man on a tour around the house.

"I uhhh….I hate to say I think I miss understood about the price." Tommy said knowing their was no way he could ever afford a place like this.

"Oh don't stress about it. Just get me the $300 whenever. Everyone here is pretty cool. We all just pitch in when we can ya know? We all take turns cleaning and cooking….well except for Aussie. Fire department said they are gonna fine us for another kitchen fire." He said casually. Tommy couldn't help but wonder what he was getting into.

"Then toss in some cash for some beers or food when ya can. Everyone just kind of does their own thing. You will see all kinds of people come and go. Right now we got a lot of our 'lifers'."

"How can you afford this place?" Tommy said looking at another large staircase.

"Oh it's already paid for. I bought it with the money from my lawsuit with Madonna."

"You sued Madonna!?!" Tommy said, not believing what he was hearing.

“Oh yeah I did. Her show was supposed to start at 8 she didn't go on till 10. I wasted so much money on overpriced water down beer I don't even remember the damn thing. Next thing I know I'm in the hospital. Apparently I fell down 12 rows of concrete stairs trying to get some nachos from concessions." He said casually as he continued. "Then I used the money I won to buy this place but it got lonely & quiet by myself so I started renting out rooms. Made for one big odd family."

Opening a door he motioned to Tommy "So here's your room. Get comfortable. When you're done feel free to head on down to the kitchen, meet everyone."

Tommy had hoped he could even find his way back down to the kitchen. It was going to take a little while to get used to this place. He still couldn't wrap his mind around all of this.

But unbeknownst to him the craziest part was yet to come. His new roommates.

Finally finding the kitchen he saw Floridaman busy having a beer next to a tall man with the most epic red beard he'd ever seen and a smaller but seemingly louder blond wearing sunglasses. And behind them both a slightly deranged looking man with jet black hair.

They all seemed to get quiet as he walked awkwardly into the kitchen.

"I was wondering if you were going to find us." Florida Man said thrusting a Bud Lite in Tommy's hand not bothering to ask if he'd want one. "Boys this is our newest guest Tommy Wenis"

The blond let out an almost mocking laugh.

"Wenis!?! Ya gotta be bloody kiddin me. Bet that must have been a rough primary career. The names are just endless!"

"Don't listen to him, he can be a jerk but he doesn't really mean it." The redhead said standing up holding out his hand cordially. "Names Tim by the way."

"Ahhh I'm just taking the piss with ya mate...kinda. Name's Trevor but everyone here likes to call me Australian Man. Ya know obvious reasons."

Finally the dark hair man with the slightly odd shaped face spoke up. "And I'm Colono. Colono Scopy"

"Uh huh...so is this everyone who lives here?" Tommy said looking at the motley crew in front of him.

"No the girls are off doing something or another. I think they mentioned girls day. I don't know I wasn't listening." Florida Man said, looking at the clock on the stove. "But they should be back any minute."

As if on cue the door opened and the sound of over lapped talking was heard.

"Speak of the devil mate." Australian Man said slightly in awe of Florida Man's timing.

A brunette wearing what looked to be a thrift store tourist shirt walked into the kitchen.

"Hey Whitley come here meet our new roommate Tommy." Florida Man said.

"Hey I'm Whitley " she shook his hand. He couldn't help but notice the slight smell of cheap bottom shelf vodka radiating off her.

Next a woman walked in with the best blond afro Tommy had ever seen.

"Hey Bab this is our new roommate Tom-"

"Maybe he'll last longer then the others." Bab said almost miserably as she walked out the back door not stopping.

"Sorry she's kin-d of…." Florida Man tried to think of the word.

"Manic Depressive." The girl with blonde and pink braids said matter of factly. "Text book diagnosis really."

"Are you a Dr?" Tommy asked everyone just laughed.

"Not in the slightest. Just been through a lot of psychologists."

"Ellis Dee, meet Tommy." Florida Man introduced.

"Tommy Wenis." Australian Man said with a snicker.

"Oh my God do people call you Tiny Wenis?" Ellis said with a giggle.

It didn't matter though because all Tommy's attention was now focused on the tall blond with golden hair walking in. He had never seen anyone like her. She was like nothing he'd ever encountered. She was…..she was…..she was absolutely stunning.

"Whose that?" Tommy asked Tim quietly.

"Huh? Oh that's Beth. Be nice, she's a sweet girl." Tim whispered back.

"Hey Beth say hi to Tommy the new guy." Florida said.

"Hi name's Beth." She introduced herself in a thick Southern accent.

"I….uhh...I'm Tommy." Tommy managed to mumble out.

All the guys exchanged an odd look.

"So where are ya rollin in from?" She asked with a smile.

"....I uhhh… I come from….places. I gotta go." He said, scrambling out of the kitchen to his room.

"That was odd." Colono said all the others nodded.

As the months went on Tommy found he had more in common with this rag tag bunch then he ever had with anyone else. He spent his days joking with Colono, drinking beers with the Florida Man & Australian Man, discussing art with Bab Ross, hitting the occasional bong with Ellis Dee, and pretty much bonding with everyone.

Everyone that is except for Beth. It seemed like every time they had a moment together his mind just blanked. Like it shut down to nothing and he couldn't figure out what the hell to say so he would say something awkward and just excuse himself.

It became apparent to everyone what was going on, everyone that was except Beth as she walked into the living room one day.

"Mind if I sat by ya hun?" She asked. He looked up at her eyes wide.

"I….uhh….murder show…..its over…..here you go. For you." He said, tossing the remote at her feet before running out the room.

"Ouch that was painful to watch." Australian Man looked up from the card game the guys had been playing.

Tommy pulled out a chair and plopped down not responding.

"Hey man, it's0 ok you will get her next time." Florid Man said putting a hand on his shoulder sympathetically….well really trying to sneak a peek at Colono's cards

"Ughhh. It's like everytime I try to talk to her I look like a total ass." Tommy grumbled.

"Yah we know, we all seen it." Australian Man joked as threw another chip in the pot.

"Well what am I supposed to say? Hey I think you're gorgeous, will you have a coffee with me?" He said, causing all the other men to laugh.

"No, no. You're thinking too much into it. What women love to hear is compliments." Tim Horton said as Bab Ross happened to walk past. "Watch this."

"Hello Bab you are looking positively radiant today!" Tim said, putting on a charming smile.

"Whatever you say Tim." Bab said with a shrug as she kept walking.

This caused all the other men to crack up.

"Laugh all you want but she acknowledged me. That's progress."

"Nah ya got it all wrong mate. What birds really dig on is a badass." Australian Man said getting up walking to the back yard. "This is how it's done boys."

Strutting slightly he slid up to Ellis Dee who was sitting outside enjoying the sun.

"Hey Ellie." He said acting casual.

"Oh hey Aussie what's up?"

"Did I ever tell you about the time I fought off a whole colony of bog frogs?"

"No I don't think you have."

"Yeah I was out with some blokes and came across these wee little bog frogs must have been mating season or something because next thing I know I'm surrounded by the little wankers! So I start beating them off me. Kicking, punching them in their little frog faces. Just throwing them off left and right. Turns out the little bastards were poisonous. Woke up in the hospital 2 weeks later handcuffed to the hospital bed. Turns out those little piss frogs are on the 'endangered species' list. Luckily for me though the judge granted the coma as time served. All I got was probation and I'll be off that by next year." Australian Man said cooly before something hit him.

"Probation…..OH SHIT! My probation meeting!" He said looking down at his watch. "I'm 6 fucking months late! I can not be arrested again! FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK!" he said running into the house leaving behind a very confused Ellis Dee.

All the guys watched as Australian Man ran through the house screaming obscenities as he looked for his cell phone.

"Anyways….what about you Florida Man. How do you talk to the ladies?" Tim Horton asked.

Florida Man shrugged and got up walking to the kitchen to see Whitley at the table drinking a large glass of orange juice.

"Bud Lite?" Florida Man offered holding out a beer. She looked at him confused.

"Its only 11 not even noon. Too early for beer." she said.

"Ok." Florida Man said walking back with both beers.

"Mornings are for screwdrivers." Whitley said to herself pour more dollar vodka into her drink.

"No, no I am sure I called. Yeah right when I landed. No I made sure I message with a Shelly? Or maybe a Jan? Or was it a Steven? I'm not sure. Mighta been a new?.....oh maybe a temp! Bloody hard to find good help huh? I'm sure it's there just check the last few months. Ring when this is all cleared up." Australian Man said, hanging up his phone not waiting for a reply on the other end. "Bloody cunts..….so what'd I miss."

"That's it. That's the only move I got." Florida Man said with a shrug.

"You guys are hopeless. No wonder I'm the only one in a relationship." Colono complained before turning to Tommy. "Tommy don't listen to them they are all going to die alone."

"Hey!"

"Fuck ya too!

"That was rude….but true."

"Women, they love romance. You can sweep a woman off her feet just by words. Just watch my example gentlemen." Colono said as he sauntered out the door to Flo Cane who was watching tv.

"Oh there she is mi amor. I was looking everywhere for you." He said sliding next to her.

"What is it? On no! Are you having issues again? Is the burning back? Have you been taking your meds? Do I need to call the Dr for you again?"

"What!?! No! That's not it!" Colono said in a panic as the sound of laughter came from around the corner.

"Hey don't listen to them. You know stress makes it worse." Flo comforted.

"It's not that!" Colono said frustrated.

"Are you sure? I know how cranky you get when you forget to take your meds."

"I'm not cranky!" Colono yelled as he stormed off.

"I'm making you an appointment just to be sure! I know you are scared of making phone calls." She shouted after him as he stormed off.

The other guys were currently in a huge pile on the floor in total hysterics none of them were able to stand. It took almost 10mins for them to calm down to breathe.

Finally collecting himself Tommy stood up straightening out his clothes. After all that advice he had finally figured it out. He knew what he had to do. Mustering up all the courage he could he moved forward before he could chicken out.

"Where are you going?" Florida Man asked as Tommy made his way outside.

"I'm going to do what I need to." He said walking out into the back yard where the girls currently huddled together talking about how weird the morning had been.

"Hello ladies. Can I talk to Beth alone please?" He asked.

Suddenly a lot made sense as they gave each other a knowing look.

"She's all yours." Whitley said with a l knowing smirk.

Silence still overcame the 2 as they sat there totally obvious to the group of 8 peering around the corner.

"What did you want to talk about?" Beth asked looking over slightly confused about what had been going on. From what she heard it's been a very confusing day.

"I…..I…." He took a deep breath before blurting out quickly. "I think you're absolutely gorgeous and would you like to get coffee with me?"

It took Beth a moment to even figure out what he had said and then another for it to really register.

"You, you think I'm pretty?" She said shocked no one had said anything like that before.

"Gorgeous actually." He said his face was burning red. "Look if I offended you, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"Yes." She cut him off.

"Huh?"

"I would love to get coffee with you." She said as a big smile crossed her face.

"Ok when?"

"Now?" She suggested.

"Sounds great." He said getting up offering his hand to her. "I know a great place."

They both walked right past the group of the gawkers so invested in their conversation they didn't even seem to notice.

"Oh my God that is the sweetest thing I've ever seen!" Whitley gushed.

"Guys are never that romantic. She's so lucky." Flo said wistfully.

"Man I wish I could find someone who thinks like that." Ellis mused.

"Yeah it was pretty nice." Bab said in her bored Bab tone.

"Are ya fucking kidding me right now!?!" Australian said, throwing his hands up in the air as he stormed back inside.

"Seriously? That? That's it? Thats romantic?" Colono complained following behind.

"Wow guy did have some skills after all." Florida said patting Tim on the back sympathetically as Tim mumbled to himself annoyed.

"What's their problem?" Bab asked.

"Men are weird." Whitley said all the other girls nodded in agreement.

#graystillplays #GSP #Sims #florida man #australian man #colono scopy #tommy wenis #tim horton #beth amphetamine #ellis dee #whitely airagaga #bab ross #flo caine #the man family #my fanfiction #crack

17 notes · View notes

hannahdra-ws · 4 years

Text

The Village

well, I’ve been there, sitting in that same chair / whispering that same prayer half a million times / it’s a lie, though, buried in disciples / one page of the bible isn’t worth a life

(or: Patton decides to come out to his parents. It doesn’t go as well as he hoped.)

ships: Logan/Patton, Roman/Virgil

tw: transph*bia, child ab*se, yelling, dissociation, getting kicked out

---------------

“No, Princey, you’re just wrong. Cool Ranch Doritos are the superior kind; your taste buds are just broken.”

Roman gasped dramatically, and Patton hid a giggle behind his hand. They were currently all sitting at the park on a nice summer's day; Logan right beside him, Roman on his side, Virgil on his other side, and the newest edition, Janus, right across from him.

“You absolute heathen! Spicy Nacho is obviously the best flavor.” Roman glared at Virgil with no real heat, Virgil just smirking back at him until Roman huffed and waved his hand. “It’s no use trying to change your opinion, you’re just always going to be wrong.”

“If I may,” Janus intervened, adjusting his yellow gloves and flicking his eye up to them, “Both of you are wrong. Nacho cheese is arguably the best flavor.”

“Shut up, Janus.” Both Roman and Virgil said at the same time, causing Janus to roll his eye and go back to… whatever he’s reading. Patton didn’t know.

Patton sighed and heard as their continued banter fell into the background. He’s really, really, really stressed today since… well, he’s planning to come out to his parents today.

read on ao3

HIs parents aren’t really kind people, sure, and they say a lot of things that Patton doesn’t agree with. Logan once described them as “emotionally and psychologically abusive” which Patton doesn’t really see. They don’t mean to hurt him, they love him.

Just because they call him stupid, and ugly, and irresponsible, that doesn't mean they're bad. They're right.

And just because Patton is a little scared to say that he’s trans, that’s a normal thing. It’s a scary situation.

It’ll all be okay.

Liar.

He was cut off from his thoughts by Logan gently taking his hand, sending sparks of warmth down his whole arm. Logan leaned over, his blue eyes seeming to sparkle in the sunlight as he let go of Patton’s hand and started signing. ‘Are you alright?’

Patton wondered why he didn’t ask out loud, but then he realized it was probably because he didn’t want to bring attention to Patton in case he didn’t want everyone to know. His heart fluttered -- Logan really is the best.

Patton nodded, about to give Logan a big smile, but then he hesitated. He then shook his head and signed with shaky hands- his ASL isn’t really the best, but he’s learning - ‘I need to tell something to the group.��

Logan nodded and cleared his throat, “Excuse me, if you two would stop.” He said to Roman and Virgil, who had now moved on to which type of Pringle was the best, causing them to stop. “Patton has something to say.”

Patton stiffened as every eye turned to him. Why is he nervous? His friends are some of the most supporting people in the world. They already know he’s trans, so telling them he’s planning to come out tonight shouldn’t make him this jittery.

“What’s up, Popstar? You okay?” Virgil asked, leaning his hands on the table. Janus flicked his eye over to Patton in vague interest, Roman turned his full attention to him, and Logan kept holding his hand under the table.

Patton took a deep breath to shake off all the jittery bugs, and exclaimed, “I’m planning to come out to my parents tonight.”

The reaction was mixed.

Roman and Logan's eyes both widened in a weird mix of concern and pride. Since Roman and Logan are the only ones who've been over to his house, they have actually met his parents.

Janus lifted his eyebrows in surprise and closed the book he was reading. He then tried to act like he wasn't that interested but failed pretty badly (in his own humble opinion.)

And Virgil leaned over more, with his hands spread out on the table and open concern in his eyes. "Really?! Holy shit!"

Patton tried for a smile, but it kind of fell flat. "Yeah, uh.. It's a bit nerve wracking, if I'm being honest."

"I'll say, Pat. That is a very brave thing to do." Roman told him, patting (hah! patt-ing) him on the shoulder.

"I definitely don't support you full-heartedly, of course, but aren't your parents incredibly conservative?" Janus asked, making a motion to check his nails even though they were under his gloves.

Patton was going to answer, but Logan cut him off. "Was that sarcasm?"

Janus nodded, giving him a look that said what do you think?

Logan nodded back and continued on. "Yes, Patton, your parents are very conservative and are close minded about a lot of subjects, especially related to LGBTQ+ issues. Are you sure about this?"

"Logan, I can't keep this a secret anymore. They deserve to know, they're my parents." Pattons heart felt heavy with guilt; they should have known from the moment he figured it out. They've taken so much care of him, and he repays them by lying?

"You don't owe them anything, Patton. If you truly want to come out, we'll support you, but don't feel guilty for not coming out to them sooner. It is entirely up to you." Janus made direct eye contact with him, and Patton felt like that half blind stare could see into his soul and pick him apart.

Roman nodded in agreement, but didn't say anything. Patton knows that he has issues with his own sexuality, and he's trying his best, but it can still be an uncomfortable talk for him. Patton's heart ached for his friend.

Logan squeezed his hand, "I agree. Whatever you do is entirely up to you." Patton felt his face warm up when Logan squeezed his hand, and tried to ignore it.

The conversation was silent for a moment while Patton thought it over, until Virgil asked, "Would they hurt you?"

The tension in the air seemed to skyrocket as Patton whipped his head up to look at Virgil, who was anxiously wringing his hands. Logan gave him a fidget cube to play with while Patton spluttered, trying to figure out how to respond.

"N-No! Of course they wouldn't! They've never laid a hand on me before!"

"Just because it hasn't happened yet, doesn't mean it couldn't happen at any moment." Virgil's eyes went dark with a memory, and Patton once again felt an uncharacteristic anger at Virgil's father.

Patton reached over, slowly enough that Virgil could stop him if he wanted, and took his hand. "I promise, I'll stay safe."

Virgil held out his pinky finger, "Pinky promise?"

Patton felt his smile grow wide, and felt a glittering happiness in his heart at how far Virgil had come. "Pinky promise."

"Okay." Virgil breathed, leaning back as Patton sat back into his seat. Janus watched the exchange quietly, an old sort of nostalgia in his eye.

"Pinky promise? Are you in kindergarten?" Roman teased Virgil, who slapped his arm playfully.

"Shut the fuck up, off-brand Troy Bolton." Janus immediately burst into laughter, hiding his mouth behind his hand as Roman spluttered.

"Troy Bolton?!"

"You play football and you're on the drama team, you're literally Troy Bolton."

"You didn't need to call me out like that, though!"

Janus was still laughing, and even Logan was trying not to smile, and Patton just… took a moment and admired his friends.

He's known Roman since middle school. Patton was immediately drawn to him, his loud personality complimenting Patton perfectly.

When Roman was 13, his siblings died. Only he and his brother survived, and from what Patton knows, it's because they weren't in the car with them. He never got to meet any of his siblings, but he knows there were a lot; he wants to say maybe 10, including Roman.

It astounds him that so many people could just… die so quickly like that.

Roman didn't talk a lot after that happened. And sometimes, these days, he just goes silent. But he's getting better, and Patton couldn't be more proud of him.

His eyes moved to Virgil and he felt his heart ache. Virgil started hanging out with them months ago, around the beginning of sophomore year. His sharp wit, dry humor and sarcastic remarks added something to the group that he didn't know was missing.

Patton can say with confidence that he hates Virgil's father. From what Virgil has told him, after his mom died his dad turned into a completely different person. Constantly beating Virgil around, berating him; he doesn't even keep any food in the house for Virgil to eat.

It makes Patton want to cry, thinking about it.

Janus… confuses him. He doesn't know much about him, but he does know that Patton's breaking down the walls around Janus's heart little by little every day. Patton does know that he's blind in one eye, he's known Virgil since they were really young, and he too used to hang out with Remus before splitting off to this group-- Patton doesn't know why. He would see them in the halls together a long time ago.

Pattons seen Remus in the hallways. He always wanted to go up and talk to him, see how he was doing, but a part of him… a part of him was a little scared of him. Remus had the reputation of being "the druggie" around school, and as much as Patton hated himself for it, it kind of made him wary to talk to him.

The deep eye bags and the bruised knuckles did always make him worry a bit though.

He hopes one day he'll muster up the courage to talk to him.

"So, I know what Patton is doing, but what are all of you doing after this? Burning a bank down, perhaps?" Janus inquired the rest of the group.

Logan huffed. "Burning a bank down is illegal. I'm going home to study."

Roman frowned, "It's summer, calculator watch. You don't need to study."

"It's good to get a head start on the next year's courses."

Roman stared at him like he was speaking another language, then shook his head and sighed. "Whatever. I'm going home. I've got to catch up on my beauty routine." He flashed a dazzling smile, and Patton giggled.

"C-" Virgil stopped and cleared his throat, then spoke again. "Can I come over?" He asked Roman quietly, his voice soft, like he was afraid Roman would say no.

Roman turned to him, clearly surprised, "You want to come over?"

Virgil shook his head and forcefully pushed down on one of the buttons on his fidget cube, "I mean- I don't have to, if you're busy, it's fine-"

"No! I'm not busy! You can come over!" Roman burst out in one breath, and Virgil looked up at him, mouth open slightly in surprise.

"Oh.. Okay. Cool." Virgil smiled at him hesitantly, and Roman beamed back, and Patton swears there's an emotional connection between them. They look at eachother for way too long for nothing to be going on.

Janus fake gagged at Roman and Virgil, then stood up and adjusted his gloves. "My dad is going to be home for the first time in a while, so I'm going home to eat with him. Right now."

They all said their goodbyes to Janus, who did a little bow and patted Patton's shoulder for good luck.

Patton felt his phone buzz and got it out, not sure why his stomach dropped when he checked the message he got.

Momma: Dinners going to be ready soon. Hurry up.

"I gotta go, kiddos," Patton said, standing up and giving Roman a hug from where Roman was sitting. Logan and Virgil don't usually like hugs, so he didn't bother asking for one.

"Good luck, sunshine, may good fortune be in your favor!" Roman declared dramatically, hugging him back despite the awkward angle.

"Stay safe, Pat, okay?" Virgil told him, and Patton nodded and said he would.

Logan only gave him a quick nod, which confused him a bit, but he shrugged it off and walked away to find his bike.

When Patton found it, he was about to head home, when--

"Patton! Wait!"

Logan was running after him, his 6'4 frame towering over him as he came to a stop, looking oddly nervous.

Patton smiled at him, "What's up, Lolo?"

Logan cleared his throat, flapping his hands a bit, "Would you, um. Would you like a hug? I've read that hugs can be optimal for comfort in high stress situations, and today has been a good sensory day, so-"

Logan was cut off by Patton squealing and rushing into him, Patton making sure not to hold him too tightly.

Golly, Patton doesn't think he's ever met someone like Logan. Meeting him in middle school was probably a miracle. Kind and super duper intelligent, telling him all sorts of facts about space and the ocean. Patton loves to watch Logan infodump to him, flapping his hands and smiling so wide. His heart flips in his chest whenever Logan comes into a room, or whenever he speaks; his smooth voice makes Patton feel safe and at home.

So, maybe Patton has a crush on Logan. Gosh, can you blame him?

Logan smells like rain water and old leather paper. Patton's face is buried in his chest, coming up to around 5'8 so he's super short compared to him. Logan's strong arms are wrapped loosely around him, and Patton genuinely just-- doesn't want to leave.

He breaks the hug sooner than later, though, because he doesn't want to overwhelm Logan. Patton's pretty sure his cheeks are glowing, and by the looks of it, Logan's are too.

Logan clears his throat again, "...Was that satisfactory?" He asked quietly, and gosh he's so ding dang cute Patton almost can't handle it.

"It was very satisfactory, Lo."

Logan smiled down at him, "Well, that's nice to hear. If you ever need anything, you know where to find me, at my house that is."

Patton nodded, pushing up his circle glasses that ended up slipping down his nose. "I know, Logan, thank you."

Logan nodded, then stepped back a bit. "Well, I won't keep you. Goodbye Patton. Good luck."

Patton hopped on his bike, "Bye Lolo!" He waved, before pedaling off.

On his way home, he planned out what he would say.

He slowly became more and more anxious, but it will be fine.

Everything is going to be fine.

------------

Everything was not going to be fine.

Patton was pacing around his room, heart racing probably too fast to be considered normal. Dread curled around his stomach like a snake, squeezing and squeezing until it felt like he couldn't breathe.

He can't do this, why did he think he could do this? He can't breathe-

"Okay, deep breaths, Pat. You're okay." He said out loud to himself. Remembering the breathing exercises that Virgil used, he deeply inhales for 4 seconds, holds for 7, and exhales for 8.

It takes a few more attempts until he's able to breathe normally, but eventually his heart rate slows down a bit.

Picking up his phone, he sent a message off to the group chat that he and the others all share.

PappyPatton: Wish me luck. dinners about to be ready :))

Logan: Good luck, Patton.

RomanoLettuce: Good luck padre!!!!!! remember to take your sword (I'll give u mine if u want it)

draculawannabe: good luck pat, pls stay safe

twofacedgay: I hope you have fun, but don't force yourself

Patton smiled as his chest filled with joy. Gosh, he loves his friends so much.

"Anna! Dinners ready!"

Instantly that joy shattered, once again replaced by ice sinking into his stomach. Patton swallowed his nerves and replied, "Coming!"

He took a deep breath, put his phone in his pocket and went downstairs, praying to whoever would listen that everything would be okay.

When he got downstairs, his baby sister, Angela, squealed when she saw him and made grabby hands. Patton cooed and pinched her cheeks,"Well hi! I missed you too!"

Angela gurgled and gave him one of her cheerios from her plate. Patton picked it up with a big smile and popped it in his mouth, then thanked his little sister for the generous offer.

"Anna, sit down. Your mother has had a hard day." His father commanded. Patton swallowed and sat down at the end of the table, looking at his plate. Ugh. Broccoli.

Patton's mother sighed and came out of the kitchen, sitting down and putting her head in her hands. Oh, god, she's in a bad mood.

She sighed again before sitting up, seeming to shake off the tiredness as she offered her hands to both of them. "Let's say grace before dinner."

Please, don't. God already knows I'm sinning.

But they did it anyways, and before Patton knew it everyone was digging in. He's not hungry.

His father took note of his and said, "Anna. You need to eat."

His mother turned and saw his still full plate, and sighed at him with disappointment. "I spent all that time making this, and you're not even going to eat it? Ungrateful."

Patton felt guilt wallow up inside him,wrapping around his throat and choking him, but didn't let it phase him. His mother and father resumed their conversation (something about the stock market, Patton doesn't know) before Patton cleared his throat.

"Um, mom, dad.. I have to tell you something."

His mother and father stopped, turning to him. His mother looked irritated, you can't do anything right, and his father just looked vaguely curious.

"Is this about your grades? If it is, then we already know your grades. They need to be higher." His mother said.

Patton swallowed again, trembling a little bit, "Uh- n-no, it's not that."

You can do it, Patton. It's not that hard.

His father tilted his head, "Then, what? Out with it, girl."

Patton took a deep breath, stop shaking you're fine everything's fine here we go here we go, and said, his voice trembling, "I'm trans."

Silence.

Then, his mother started laughing.

Patton looked up at her, confused. Why is she laughing?

"That's funny, dear." His mom chuckled, mirth dripping from her voice. His father just looked uncomfortable.

"N-no, mom, I'm serious. I'm a-a-a boy." Patton dug his nails into his thigh under the table. "I-I'd actually prefer to go by Patton."

His mother stopped laughing.

"You're serious?" Her voice had gone unrecognizable. Gone was the laughter and the mirth; now all he heard was rage. The tension in the room had risen to almost unbearable levels.

His stomach curled in on himself as he nodded, "Y-Yeah, I-"

Smack.

Patton recoiled, face swinging to the side as he tried to process what just happened. His cheek started stinging.

She smacked him.

He didn’t even see her move.

"How could you do this to me, Anna?! To us?!" His mom yelled, oh god she's yelling now, everything is going wrong.

She stood up, forcefully pushing herself away from the table. His father grabbed her arm, but she shook him off and stared Patton down.

"Didn't we raise you to know better?! God is going to punish you, Anna!" His mother screamed at him, her face red with rage. "You're going to hell!"

Patton whimpered and flinched hard when a plate was thrown at him, barely managing to dodge. When did she pick up the plate? What is happening?!

Angela was screaming, his mother was screaming, his face hurt from the slap, this wasn't how this was supposed to go-

He doesn't know when he started crying, burying himself in his trembling arms, trying to make the noise go away. He felt like he was watching this happen through a window, or on a TV screen. This couldn’t be real.

"Diana, please," his father tried to interject, but was cut off by his mother.

"No, Michael! She's sinning! She thinks she's a boy!" His mother shrieked and Patton cringed in on himself, trying to remember the breathing exercises that Virgil uses, trying to stop crying.

"M-m-mom, I'm s-sorr-" he tried to say, lifting his shaking head up slightly, before he was backhanded so hard he fell out of his chair to the floor and the room was spinning.He vaguely noticed his glasses falling off; his mother stepped on them with a loud crack.

Patton tried to regain his breath, his ears ringing, before he felt his shirt being pulled and him being forced to stand.

His mother stood before him, her eyes filled with tears and rage and hatred.

"Get out." She said, oh so quietly.

What? Was she kicking him out? Ice cold dread wrapped around his chest, sinking into his stomach like a stone. No no no no please-

"B-but I-"

She smacked him again, hard enough to make his nose bleed, "Get out, get out, get out! Don't come back until you've opened up your heart to the lord!" She screamed, sending him into a full blown terror. His heart raced, as he scrambled up the stairs, hearing the yelling continue from downstairs. He didn't even look at what he was taking, he just threw in random things, trying to get out of there as fast as possible. Patton’s heart raced with adrenaline and panic as he stuffed everything into a Wal-Mart bag. Was he crying? He didn't know. All he knew was that he needed to get out of there.

Patton ran back downstairs, desperately just wanting to leave, before she got even more angry. He made eye contact with his father, who just glared at him and looked away.

His baby sister was still shrieking and crying. His mother was standing over the table, surrounded by broken glass, shoulders tense with anger.

She turned to face Patton, and the rage that seemed to simmer down sprung to life again.

"Get the fuck out! I don't want to see your face again, Anna!" She spat his deadname, like it was poison.

Patton didn't hesitate, scrambling to the door and running out into the freezing night air, holding his bag close to his chest.

"God is going to punish you!" His mother shrieked from the house, and that was the last thing he heard before he started running.

Patton didn't even have his glasses; he could barely see. He was running so hard his chest started to hurt, combined with the cold night air, made him want to cough. Adrenaline coursed through Patton's veins, coursing alongside the crushing fear of what would happen if he didn't get away.

But he didn't even know where he was going. Where does he go now?

One word popped into the back of his mind, and he knew that was where he had to go.

Logan.

---------------

Patton doesn't know how long it took to get to Logan's house. Everything is blurry from his lack of glasses, and his chest hurts and his face hurts and everything hurts-

He knew the outline of Logan's house, though, and suddenly he was on the front porch, knocking urgently.

God is going to punish you.

Patton felt like he was floating. Like he could look down and see his own body standing there; he's pretty sure there's a term for that, but he can't remember it right now.

Everything is going numb; whether that's from the cold or otherwise, he doesn't care.

How could you do this to me? To us?

Patton had stopped crying a few blocks back- now, everything is just cold numbness.

Patton was jerked out of his thoughts when the front door opened, revealing Logan's giant form.

"Did you forget your ke- oh, Patton. What are you doing here? Are- Are you alright?" Logan tilted his head as he stared at Patton in concern.

Patton must look like a mess- dried tears and snot and a little blood, big red slap mark on his cheek, no glasses and a Wal-Mart bag.

Patton shook his head, trying to get rid of the ever present nothing that he felt. "Uh- not really, Lolo." His voice was rough and scratchy from crying.

Logan's eyes darted down to the Wal-Mart bag, then to the slap mark on his face and lack of glasses, and just- stared.

The silence went on for a while, and Patton turned to leave. I shouldn't have bothered him, I bother everyone god is going to punish you

"I'm sorry." Patton said, his voice small, "I didn't mean to bother you. I can go-"

"No!" Logan exclaimed, making Patton flinch and turn back around. Logan looked sheepish from his outburst and wrung his hands a bit, "Apologies for startling you. Please, come in." Logan stepped aside so that Patton could come in, still eyeing the Wal-Mart bag.

Patton walked in and let Logan direct him to the couch. Patton always liked Logan's house. The layout was similar to his, but it had the comfort and warmth that his own home (don't come back until you've opened your heart to the lord) was missing.

"Let me- um- let me get you some water. And a blanket." Logan mumbled before hurrying off, leaving Patton alone with his thoughts.

He could hear the water running. He could hear Logan rummaging around in the closet, probably looking for a blanket. Logically, he knows where he is.

But he feels just- disconnected from his body.

Why in the world did he think that coming out to them would be a good idea? Patton knows their views, he should have been smarter, shouldn't have been so trusting-

Maybe Patton's prayer went unanswered because Patton deserved this. Maybe this is his punishment.

And now he's bothering Logan,the best person in the world, with his burdens. He's probably overwhelming him. God, he can't do anything right.

"Here." Logan draped a large, blue, soft blanket over Patton's shoulders. He gently handed him the glass of water, keeping his hands raised in case Patton's shaky hands dropped it.

"Thank you." Patton's voice felt wrong to his own ears as he took a sip of water. It soothed his raw throat, and after a few sips he was glad he could speak correctly again.

Logan stayed silent, aside from the continuous tapping on his leg. Patton knows he must have questions, so he sets the glass down and curls his knees into his chest, giving him silent permission to ask.

And that's just what Logan did. "Patton… what happened?" Logan's voice was quiet, concerned. Patton shrugged, cracking an empty smile that fell 2 seconds after he put it up.

"I came out. It- uh- didn't go so well." He tried to giggle, but it was watery and he suddenly has the urge to cry cry cry cry.

"What happened to your glasses? Why do you have a Wal- ...Oh." Logan's went silent again, but this time you could basically feel the rage in the air. "How dare they."

Logan sounded angry. Patton instinctively curled up more, an apology on the tip of his tongue, but Logan cut him off before he could.

"No, Patton, I'm not mad at you, I just-" Logan took a deep breath and flapped out his hands a bit, "Did they kick you out?" He was straight to the point.

Patton nodded.

Logan swore and bit down on his knuckle, and Patton realized with a start that there were tears in Logan's eyes. Why is he crying?! God I made him sad too what is wrong with me?!

Patton jumped up, "Oh, you're crying! I'm so sorry, Logan!" Patton tried to apologize, but Logan shook his head and wiped his eyes.

"It's- It's fine. Do not worry about it." Logan took a deep breath, in and out, and then looked at Patton again.

"Patton I- I am so sorry that happened to you. That never should have happened, ever. Your parents should have been accepting and kind to who you really are. I'm so sorry they weren't."

Patton shrugged again, not feeling so numb anymore as he looked down and bit back the tears in his throat.

Logan scooted over and took his hand.

And then the dam broke.

Patton started sobbing- gut wrenching tears were dragged out of him, as he put his head in his hands and let the sobs wrack his body. It hurts so much, everything hurts so much-

He was vaguely aware of his body being maneuvered, and suddenly his head was on Logan's chest, and Logan's hand was in his hair, and he was whispering- not reassurances, but just facts.

"Your name is Patton. You have brown eyes and dirty blonde hair, bordering on brown. You have freckles and a gap in your teeth. You adore frogs and butterflies." Logan kept up a steady whisper of facts about Patton, as Patton kept crying into Logan.

He cried for about 10 minutes before the tears finally slowed, and he could sit up from Logan's chest but he doesn't want to. Even though he made a wet spot on Logan's pajamas, and is probably bothering him with this whole thing, he doesn't want to leave.

"Please don't make me leave." Slipped out before he could stop it, and he felt his ears heat with shame.

"Oh, Patton- You're not leaving. You are staying right here." Logan sounded like he was crying, too, and that just made Patton feel awful.

"In fact, you're staying with us from now on. You're going to live here." Patton's mind screeched to a halt as he looked back up at Logan. What?

"What?"

"You're staying here. My mom's can be your legal guardians." Logan looked completely serious.

Patton's mind was spinning. Could they do that? Isn't that against the law?

"If we have your biological parents permission, you can stay here all you want. My mom's can go get your stuff tomorrow. Patton, you are not going back there. You deserve to have a safe home, where you can be yourself without having to be afraid or belittled. You deserve safety."

And- and-

And Patton thought the tears were done, but apparently they weren't, and he started sobbing again into Logan's night shirt.

He felt dizzy with relief, his chest contracting in an almost painful way.

He's going to be okay.

With Logan whispering gentle facts in his ear, and Logan's heartbeat under his other ear, and the voice of his mother in his head getting quieter.

God is probably still going to punish him. But that's later.

Because right now Patton can feel Logan's breathing and feel his voice echo through his chest as he talks quietly with his mom's, who apparently Patton didn't hear coming through the door.

Patton had one last, coherent thought before slipping into unconsciousness.

I'm going to be okay.

#sanders sides #patton sanders angst #fic #fanfic #high school au #logicality

36 notes · View notes

geekgirles · 3 years

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

10 notes · View notes