#whos gonna raise their hand and ask me why there are ghosts in the 80s? would it make more sense for you if they were in 2010s?

[featherymainffins]

Sci-fi worldbuilding is like a thing that really hates you and wants you dead

[averagewriter-inthedark]

Love Across the Galaxy 🌌 | Helmut Zemo Imagine

Contains spoilers for GOTG Vol.3

Link to my Marvel masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Baron Helmut Zemo x Roman Goddess/Guardians!reader (romantic), The Thunderbolts—Baron Zemo, Bucky Barnes, Thaddeus Ross, Valentina Alegra De Fontaine, John Walker, Ghost, Justin Hammer, Taskmaster, Yelena, & Red Hulk (platonic), The Guardians of the Galaxy—Quill, Mantis, Nebula, Drax, Rocket, Groot, Kraglin, & Cosmo (platonic)

Content Warnings: profanity, light angst, fluff, mentions of death, fighting & violence, spoilers for GOTG Vol.3 (don’t read if you haven’t seen it!) | female!reader (she/her) | wc: 4.9k

Requested 📨 yes/no (rules for requests)

Premise: In which Baron Helmut Zemo, hater of the Avengers and desire to rid the planet of enhanced beings, becomes a member of the antihero team led by General Thaddeus Ross & CIA Director Valentina Fontaine where he meets the legendary group of misfits turned Guardians of the freakin Galaxy and loses his heart to a Goddess with a love for 80s music and talent for cutting of limbs.

Note: GOTG Vol 3 has permanently altered my brain chemistry and I cannot stop thinking about it. Truly the best film since Endgame & it’s inspired me cause I’m also back to loving Zemo again. I refuse to believe Marvel would give us a Thunderbolts film w/o Zemo so I will make sure he’s in this team.

After learning about all the Gods in Thor: Love & Thunder, picture you are Minerva, the Roman Goddess of Wisdom & War (Roman equivalent to the Greek’s Athena) and has cosmic powers similar to the Eternal’s Thena and has been with the Guardians since the events of the first GOTG film.

————————

Fall 2023

“I don’t see why we need these people to help us,” Zemo rolled his eyes, strolling beside General Ross with the rest of the team around them. Once outside the cool breeze hit him, ruffling the lapels of his coat as his eyes squinted from the bright light.

Ross lets out a tired sigh, “Because, Zemo, as much as it galls me to admit it this threat is far beyond what we can deal with. It’s not terrestrial and chances are these…” he had trouble coming up with the word, “let’s just say they’re more experienced for this situation.”

They all stop before the flight line. It’s clear all around them with no sign of an approaching vessel.

“Who are these guys again?” Justin Hammer popped some jelly beans in his mouth. John looks down at the file in his hands, making a face as he does.

“They call themselves…The Guardians of the Galaxy.”

“Oh God,” Bucky moans, immediately making mental notes to protect his mental arm knowing a certain talking animal was on the hunt for it. He was gonna have to sleep with one eye open.

Zemo raises his brow, “Friends of yours, James?” Bucky is not pleased by the assumption.

“I wouldn’t call them that.”

“Aren’t they part of the Avengers?” Ava’s tone is slightly disapproving. While Scott Lang and the Pym/Van Dyne’s helped her, she still got bad rep despite doing what she did to survive.

Zemo, not happy with the idea of working with Avengers, snatches the file from Walker.

“Not technically,” Ross replies while Zemo reads over the page. “They arrived with Thor in 2018 against the first battle with Thanos, remained an associate to the team while continuing whatever the hell it is they do in space, and returned in 2023 to defeat the purple bastard once and for all.”

“Did you fight with them, Bucky?” Yelena asks from beside the soldier.

“Yeah,” the memory appears in his mind. Specifically where he grabbed Rocket by the scruff and spun them in circles to cover more area as they fired off their guns. “Our interactions were brief…but memorable.”

The Baron had seen many things over the years, like the rest of humanity with the formation of the Avengers and reveal of intergalactic and enhanced beings, but to stay he wasn’t thinking, ‘what the fuck?’ by the picture in front of him would be a lie.

An earthling turned ravager, a blue mercenary, a woman with antennas, a genetically engineered raccoon, a living tree, a gray alien that could take down Thor, a man with a metal Mohawk, a telekinetic dog, and an exiled sword wielding Goddess. All misfits and outcasts, mostly space criminals turned superhero guardians of the cosmos.

Well….they were quite the bunch.

“They are not still with the Avengers, I take it?” Zemo wanders around, eyes lingering on the Goddess. White streaks adorned her natural hair color, eyes gold and lips painted with what appeared to be a permanent smirk. She wore a gold and white headpiece that had an owl extending its wings.

Name/Alias: Minerva, Goddess of War; Race: Deity; Planet of Origin: Caelum; Age: approx. 2500 yrs (39 Earth yrs); Occupation: Warrior/Mercenary/Defender of the Andromeda Galaxy; Allegiance: The High Council of Caelum (formerly), Guardians of the Galaxy, Thor, God of Thunder, The Avengers (formerly); Abilities: Cosmic manipulation, enhanced strength, agility, speed, & durability, thermal detection & mental teleportation; Specialization: artillery and battle strategy.

Ross let out a sigh, “only when the planet is about to go to shit due to an intergalactic threat. Which we’ve now got on our hands, but considering the Avengers are all on sabbatical I’m sending you in,” he checks his watch, “but I need all the extra hands and like I said, they’re experienced.”

Zemo stares at the blank sky, “How will we know they've arrived?”

“Believe me,” Ross mutters under his breath. “You’ll know.”

A loud rumbling noise caught everyone’s attention, gazes turning upward as a hexagon shaped breech in the sky revealed a very large spaceship in its wake, followed by the distinct lyrics of AC/DC’s ‘Back to Black.’

“Back in black. I hit the sack. I’ve been too long, I’m glad to be back. Yes, I’m let loose. From the noose. That’s kept me hanging about.”

“Oh my,” Yelena breathed out, hair flying back from the gust of wind. Zemo lifted a hand to cover his face from the leaves, as did the others, many wide eyed.

“I’ve been looking at the sky. ‘Cause it’s gettin’ me high. Forget the hearse ‘cause I never die. I got nine lives. Cat’s eyes. Abusin’ every one of them running wild.”

“Great song,” Justin voiced, grinning from ear to ear. The ship made its descent, music getting louder.

“‘Cause I’m back. Yes, I’m back. Well, I’m back,” it approached the tarmac, “Yes, I’m back. Well, I’m back, back.” wheels hit the tarmac, engine powering down but music still blasting, “Well, I’m back in black,” the ship doors opened, revealing steps extending to the ground, “Yes, I’m back in black.”

It was almost like a scene from a movie. Slow-motion if one will by how the Guardians exited their ship and stepped foot on the tarmac with AC/DC on full volume. All dressed in their new suits of red and blue leather with the Ravager flames on the chest.

Arriving in style.

Quill led with the rest flanking his sides. Drax munching on snacks while Nebula looked menacing and Groot towered over everyone. Cosmo had her tongue out in excitement, Rocket carrying his gun strapped to his back. Mantis’s chin held high, like she was on top of the world and Kraglin trying not to appear lost. Lastly Minerva was drinking a caprisun, Ray Bans covering her gold eyes.

Zemo tilts his head in amusement at the sight. He expected the Goddess, of war nonetheless, to have a more menacing approach like Nebula considering her reputation. But she was just as relaxed and laid back as Drax.

The Guardians walked several paces until they were directly in front of the Thunderbolts. It was then the music stopped, Ross being the first to address them. “You sure know how to make an entrance.”

Quill gave a smug grin, “We know.” Hands go to his hips, “You’re wearing a suit so you must be the boss man. Although I believe there’s also a boss lady we’re here to do business with.”

“Director Fontaine is currently occupied. She’ll be arriving in the morning.”

“I assume we won’t be knowing a damn thing until that happens, huh?”

Ross tightens his lips, “You assume correctly.”

“I told you we should’ve handled it on our own,” Minerva’s glances to Quill annoyed. Surprised by her voice, Zemo's eyebrows raised at her sudden input. Her accent was slightly Italian given her mythological origin is Roman.

Quill clicked his tongue, “We don’t have authority here, Minnie.”

“Midgard is part of the Andromeda Galaxy. Technically we should.”

Now the man was giving her a pointed look after Ross’s body language turned defensive, “I’d rather not get our asses thrown in Earth’s prison system. We go by the rules—the ones we established.”

Minerva grumbles under her breath, finishing the last remnants of her juice pouch, “Would’ve finished the job faster. They wouldn’t even know we were here.”

“Okay well, we’re doing things this way. We’re here as a team to work with a team. Right, Mr. Secretary?”

Ross’ disapproving eyes linger on Minerva, who in return rolls her own, before turning his attention back to Quill, “Yes. Now let’s move on shall we?”

He lets out a breath of relief, “Agreed.” Bidding a warning look to each of his teammates, they all wait for what the man in the suit has to say. Ross extends a hand to the people on either side of him.

“This is my team. All with different levels of skill and experience. Justin Hammer is our tech and weapons specialist,” Justin gives a wave, “Yelena Belova,” Ross points to the blonde in a white tactical suit, “former Black Widow and master assassin.” At the mention of Black Widow Rocket, Nebula, and Minerva all tense, faces becoming solemn at the memory of Natasha. They were the three remaining Guardians during the blip, becoming close with the Avenger.

“Ava Starr, she can phase through anything,” they all look impressed, finding the talent cool. “Antonia Dreykov, who we like to call Taskmaster.”

“Why’s that?” Kraglin asked intrigued.

“She has photographic reflexes and can mimic your fighting powers. Basically use your own moves against you.”

“Niceeee,” all the Guardians echo. Ross points to the two individuals in between Zemo and Yelena.

“Our super soldiers, Captain John Walker and I believe you all know Sergeant Barnes.” Bucky tightens his mouth with a curt nod.

“You still got that arm on ya?” Rocket muses, earning a nudge—well more like a kick—from Minerva. The rest of the Thunderbolts besides Bucky all become wide-eyed at the talking Raccoon…even though it said on the file he could.

But how the fuck else were they suppose to react to a talking raccoon?

All Bucky does is glare, “Don’t even think about it.” Rocket shrugs, “Worth a shot.”

“Why is that one carrying a giant frisbee?” Drax’s mouth is filled with Zargnuts. Walker, the man in question, becomes visibly offended.

“It’s a shield not a frisbee.” Zemo bites back a smirk at the soldier's tone. Not to mention the Guardians' reactions were priceless.

“A shield?” Mantis repeats confused.

“It’s a frisbee,” Drax mumbles.

“Like that circular object Minerva conjures to deflect attacks,” Nebula tiredly explains. Mantis’s mouth forms the shape of an ‘o’.

“And lastly,” Ross sounds just as exhausted as the cyborg, “Baron Helmut Zemo, former intelligence operative.”

“I am Groot,” Zemo’s attention goes to the tree alien, confused by his words. Minerva, seeing his expression, addresses it, “He says he likes your fancy cape.”

‘Cape?’ He thinks, but doesn’t comment on it and his perplexed reaction makes Minerva smirk. Instead Zemo says, “Well, I appreciate the compliment. Thank you.” Groot’s pleased, grinning wide like a child.

It’s then Quill’s turn to formally introduce the Guardians. The Thunderbolts bite back their own amusement at the nicknames and surprise of hearing the dog, Cosmo, speak through her suit with a distinct Russian accent. Afterwards Ross leads them all into the hangar, Minerva removing her sunglasses now that she was inside, allowing her gold eyes to be visible.

From there they all interact, awkwardly for the most part as they have no idea what the hell to do as they wait for further instruction. It soon becomes bickering and even challenging someone in hand-to-hand combat.

Well, what can you expect when a team of heroes meet a team of villains/anti heroes? Rivalry at its finest.

“Any day now, Quill,” Minerva groans, relaxing her stance. Across from her several feet away was Walker, confused by why she was taking so long to attack. They were standing in the middle of the squared off area with the teams surrounding them, but giving enough space to avoid being in the crossfire. Quill was scrolling through his Walkmen.

“What’s he doing?” Zemo whispers to Kraglin, eyes flicking back and forth from the human Guardian and the Goddess.

“Trying to find a good fight song. You know, get the vibes going.” Out on the square Minerva lets out a loud huff signaling her annoyance was increasing.

“Just give me another second—.”

“Quill.”

“I almost got it.”

“Pick a goddamn song!”

“Fine!” Quill shouts, randomly selecting the first one his finger hits. A second later Duran Duran’s ‘Hungry Like the Wolf,’ blasts through all the speakers attached to the Guardians arms. The antiheroes become perplexed, while also noting the song choice. Justin and Yelena started to bop their heads.

“Darken the city, night is a wire. Steam in the subway, earth is afire. (Do-do-do-do-do-do-do-do-do)”

Minerva smirked, retaking her stance. As she lifts her hands, cosmic energy around her consorts to physical matter, taking the shape of a spear and shield in either hand. Wide eyes take over the Thunderbolts.

“Woman, you want me, give me a sign. And catch my breathing even closer behind. (Do-do-do-do-do-do-do-do-do)”

“Wow,” Justin exhales. “In touch with the ground. I’m on the hunt, I’m after you.”

“That’s so cool,” Yelena muses, others muttering in agreement. “Smell like the sound, I'm lost in the crowd. And I’m hungry like the wolf.” Keeping his admirations to himself, Zemo watches the scene unfold in silence.

“First one to step or get thrown out of the square loses,” Bucky shouts over the music, “Ready….” Walker clutches the strap of his shield, Minerva twirling her spear once, “Fight!”

“Stalked in the forest, too close to hide,” Walker lets out a cry, charging at the Goddess. “I’ll be upon you by the moonlight side (Do-do-do-do-do-do-do-do-do,” Minerva blocks his attack, pushing back slightly only to crouch to swipe at his legs, “High blood drumming on your skin, it’s so tight,” Walker dodges her spear, but fails to avoid her kick to his chest, sending him backward. “You feel my heat, I’m just a moment behind.” He brings his shield up in time as her spear barrels down at him. “Do-do-do-do-do-do-do-do-do.”

They continue their one-on-one for several minutes, both coming close to getting the other out of the square and the song changing to ‘Cherry Bomb’ by The Runaways—a favorite amongst the Guardians. The entire time Zemo was mesmerized to say the least. Every move she made was effortless, showcasing strengths and ability to predict Walker's moves.

He hadn’t felt such attraction to a woman in so long. And here he was experiencing a feeling that was almost unfamiliar.

Ultimately Minerva wins the battle in what one would call a divine move. At the peak of the song, Minerva’s golden eyes glow bright resulting in the eyes of the owl headpiece to also glow and become animated. It takes form, coming to life and soars straight at Walker, throwing him off by covering his face.

“What the—uuugh!!” He’s flying through the air, back meeting the harsh ground with an audible groan. The owl leaves him, returning to Minerva and consorting back into a headpiece. When it does her eyes dim back to their normal hue. Her team broke out into whistles and hollars, meanwhile Walker’s were unimpressed.

“Guardians for the win!” Rocket cheered.

“I am Groot!”

“Never underestimate the power of Duran Duran!”

Minerva helps Walker up, “Not bad, soldier.” As she turns to head off the pad, her eyes lock with Zemo’s and a wink is sent his way. Heat rises in the Baron, glancing away to hide his smirk.

Oh boy, trouble was on the horizon.

Next Yelena went against Nebula. Their fight was even more intense and nearly ended in a draw. Eventually Yelena overpowered the cyborg and got her to step out of the square. It was a tie. Groot and Rocket teamed up against Ross in the form of the Red Hulk—which took a lot of convincing—the two claiming the win after fooling the General. Taskmaster beat out Quill, handing his ass to him which had the Guardians in a heap of laughter.

“I enjoyed that more than I should have,” Minerva teases, crossing her arms as she takes a spot beside Zemo. He glances at her, mirroring her expression.

“Not a common occurrence for your friend to lose a fight?”

She scoffs, “You’d be surprised by his record.”

Lastly Bucky went toe-to-toe with Drax, and of course Rocket had to yell, “Take his arm and give it to me!” And well….it ended with them tackling each other out of the square.They didn’t know who won at that point, so the teams were tied 2-2 initiating a debate on who should be crowned the best.

“Okay, let’s call it a day,” Ross announces, ending the squabbling between the groups. “Night’s upon us and frankly I could use a drink. We’ll return here first thing in the morning—7am sharp to discuss the threat and where to go,” he turns to Quill, “we’ve got sleeping quarters arranged for you all if you please. Otherwise my guess is you’ll remain in your ship?”

About an hour later, after both teams settled for the night, Zemo decided to take a walk around the flight line. It became a habit of his since joining the Thunderbolts. A way to clear his mind after a long day of briefings and training. He basked in the peace that came with being alone, but there were times he felt lonely and longing for company to share the peace with.

Ten years since losing his family and the pain never strayed. Yet, he managed to live with it. He accomplished his goal in 2016 when he tore apart the Avengers. Likely is to blame for the loss against Thanos resulting in half of the universe’s population turning into dust for five years.

Did he feel remorse for the consequences of his actions? Possibly. Did he regret it? No. At this rate he’s accepted the reputation he painted himself to be.

“Zemo, correct?” The sudden intrusion spooked the Baron, jumping slightly by the glowing eyes in the darkness. A moment later Minerva stepped into the lighting, eyes dimming to normal. She was still in her suit, though her hair was pulled back, white streaks seeping through the natural color.

“Yes, but you may call me Helmut,” he replied, nodding in greeting to the Goddess.

“Helmut,” she tests the name, “like the headwear people use when they ride bikes or spacesuits?”

“That’s one way to look at it, but yes I suppose so.”

“Interesting. What brings you out this late in the evening?”

He shrugs, “wanted to get away from the constant complaining of my comrades,” eyes go to the sky, “and I like to admire the stars.” Minerva moves to his right, glancing up as well.

“They’re much more incredible up close.” He peers down at her, not bothering to question her judgment. She lives in space after all.

“I bet so. I’m sure the view from here is nothing compared to what you’ve witnessed.”

She shrugs, “These stars you don’t even know if they’re still alive. It took years—possibly millions—for the light to reach Earth.” Zemo looks back up, focusing on the North Star.

“For all we know they burnt out ages ago.”

Their eyes connect, Zemo feeling a weight on his chest by the intensity of her gaze. It’s followed by unease when she says, “Natasha told me about you.”

Instantly he looks away, feeling an unfamiliar wave of dread. “Ah.” Here was a discussion he was not expecting, nor willing, to have.

But Minerva didn’t show criticism. In fact, her gaze and tone resembled understanding. “How do you do it?” The question took him aback.

“Do what, exactly?”

“Align yourself with people who go against what you stand for?” Minerva’s tone wasn’t condescending at all, only curious. “Most of your team are enhanced individuals—two are super soldiers to be exact. You went to many lengths to disband the Avengers and put an end to superheroes,” there’s a slight tilt of her head, eyeing the Baron with intrigue, “but you join a group consisting of people who fall between the spectrum of hero and villain where most are the exact thing you wished to eradicate. Not to mention led by two people you wouldn’t say you share similar moral values with. Why join them?”

For the first time in his life, Zemo was at a loss for words. Not a single word uttered as he tried to comprehend what Minerva had just confronted him with. How could he explain? Hell, he didn’t even know the real truth other than wanting to stay out of his cell. A big price to pay in exchange for freedom.

Minerva spoke again before he could respond, “I once committed an act similar to you,” the surprise is evident on Zemo, “Vengeance against those who were responsible for the death of my loved ones. It’s why I was exiled,” a frown appears, her attention returning to the stars. “So I understand you, probably better than anyone here. Understand why you committed those acts to destroy the Avengers. I don’t fault you for what you did—if I did it would make me a hypocrite. You’re not the villain Ross and the Avengers made you out to be.”

“How so?” His voice is strained, “what have you lost?” He didn’t mean to come off as defensive, but the conversation was bringing up emotions Zemo didn’t want to face.

“As Goddess of War all I knew was bloodshed. How to prevent it and how to fight it. Battle strategy was my domain, and the High Council knew better than to question my judgment,” she releases an exhale, “but Mars, the God of War and my brother, was my ultimate rival. He hated how much our father doted on me and agreed with plans I coordinated. It made him feel inferior. He’d do anything to prove himself.” Her tone remains neutral despite the painful memory surfacing.

Zemo remained quiet, picturing the scene as Minerva relayed it. Though stoic the Baron could see the pain and sadness lurking behind her eyes. Managing it as best she could for the sake of her friends. Who knows how many years it’d been since she lost whoever it was close to her. But the hole would always remain.

“To put it short,” she started again, bidding a glance, “Our home was under attack and his rash decision to slow down the enemy led to the death of my family—my husband and children.” Sympathy arose in the Baron, understanding her anguish, “An intentional move on Mars’ part because he believed I wouldn’t be fit to remain on the High Council after stuffing such a loss, therefore he would take my place as Head Commander of our armies and my father’s second Command.”

“He wasn’t exiled?” The question left Zemo before he could stop it. Confused by how the God avoided persecution for his crime, Minvera was shunned. “Your family was targeted.”

Minerva’s smile was bitter, “because their deaths were a result of war, the High Council viewed it as collateral. They failed to see Mars’ responsibility, believing he didn’t intend to kill them. So, I took it upon myself to bring justice. Not only to Mars but also the High Council.” Her smile fell once more, “I made sure they would pay. And they did, but it was far from over after finishing the job. Those who survived didn’t hesitate to throw me out to the wolves once I was contained.”

Zemo nods his head, “where did you go afterward if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I was imprisoned on Xandar for some time,” well they certainly had some things in common, “Once I escaped I became what your people would call a bounty hunter. Where it led me to meeting those clowns I now call my family,” she pauses before adding, “and escaping prison for a second time. Only it was to save the Galaxy.”

The laugh that escapes Zemo surprises him, “I guess it all worked out then.” Once more they lock eyes, twinkling against the stars shining down above.

“I suppose it did.”

Three Years Later

Zemo raced out the door the moment he awoke to rumbling that shook the foundation of his home. After three years he’d recognize the sound in an instant, only this time it was without warning.

An action that rarely occurred.

Throwing on his coat and house slippers, the clock read 2:30 am, flooding the Baron with worry. ‘What is she doing here at this hour?”

Usually when Minerva drops in she gives Zemo a heads up. A day or two’s notice, but recently he couldn’t get a hold of her and passed it off as the Guardians on a job. With the unexpected visit, so late at night, Zemo instantly knew something was wrong.

Hurrying out to the front lawn right as her ship landed, Zemo jogged to where the stairs extended. When they did, the doors revealed his Goddess, still wearing her suit, standing before him. Zemo noted the exhaustion painting her demeanor. Dark circles beneath her eyes, which appeared dimmer than usual, and scars indicating recently healed wounds.

His arms are around her the moment she’s within distance, her own around his neck, “This is a surprise.”

“Sorry I didn’t call,” the exhaustion was evident in her voice. Barely above a whisper causing Zemo to tighten his hold.

“It’s alright, darling. I’m just glad to see you are okay,” his hand runs along her hair, “wanna tell me what happened?” He hears her sniff, increasing his dread, “Close call?”

“Too many,” her voice cracks and there’s a pause. “We almost lost Rocket. We saved him thankfully, but then we nearly lost Peter. And I almost—,” she stops short, not wanting to relive her near death experience. “This was…it was too much for all of us, Helmut.” A kiss is pressed to her head, offering comfort.

“Let’s get you inside, mein schatz.” Zemo leads Minerva into the home, sitting her in the living room while he goes to put a kettle on the stove. Filling two cups of cherry blossom tea, Minerva’s favorite, he joins her in the living room.

After taking her first sip of the brew, Minerva removes the headpiece from her hair and makes herself comfortable before giving Zemo a play-by-play of the past three days. He stays quiet, listening intently but visibly reacts with each awful detail Minvera relays to him. From the unexpected attack from Adam Warlock, to the disgusting abuse Rocket endured at the hands of the High Evolutionary, to Quill nearly imploading in space had it not been for Adam’s change of heart.

Zemo’s knuckles turned white when Minerva spoke of what happened to her. Anger consumed him and he wished he had been there to protect her. Seeing his distress Minerva placed her hand on his, gently squeezing, “I’m okay, Helmut. I’m here now and we all made it out. There were many close calls, but we’re all alive and that’s what matters.”

Taking her hand, Zemo brought it up to brush his lips against her fingers, softly kissing her knuckles. “I don’t know what I would've done if I lost you, Minnie. I—-,” he stops himself to exhale, squeezing his eyes shut, “I would’ve found a way to fly across the galaxy to avenge you.”

“I know you would,” she murmurs, removing her hand but positioning herself in his lap. Arms snake around his neck, pulling him so they were inches apart. “I’d expect nothing less. Also I’d be a hypocrite considering I would do the same for you.” A playful smirk formed, “I was already plotting when Ross let you get captured by those bastards last year. Had it ended any other way, Ross would cease to exist.”

Zemo snickered, “I see we haven’t really changed completely despite our friends believing the opposite. Neither of us hesitating to return to old ways if it comes down to such circumstances.”

She smirks, “No, I don’t suppose we haven’t.”

“What a pair we are,” leaning in, his lips meet hers in a soft caress. Warmth seeping through his veins. That effortless high he believed he’d never have again after the loss of his family.

But he found it with a Goddess in the stars. Where love swept across the galaxy.

When they pull away after a moment, Zemo keeps his forehead against hers. Gold meeting brown. “I’m not sure I can let you go now, liebling. At least not for a while.”

“You never have to anymore,” her words have him startled, the man pulling away slightly to get a better look at her.

“What are you saying?”

Minerva’s gaze turns soft, though there’s slight nervousness, “After everything we all realized something. We found the family we were searching for, but some of us needed to find ourselves. Peter’s here on Earth to find his grandfather. Mantis is off on her own adventure. Drax and Nebula are on Knowhere to help raise the children we saved from the High Evolutionary. Rocket and Groot are leading a new era of the Guardians. And me,” she stops, emitting a gaze full of love that takes Zemo’s breath away. “I’d like to be here. With you, Helmut. If you’ll have me.”

If his heart could explode from the happiness Zemo was feeling it would. Tears were threatening to prick his eyes, the Baron willing himself to remain composed. “Oh, Schatz,” he croaked, cupping the side of her jaw. “I should be the one asking you that. Of course I’ll have you. I love you more than every star in the galaxy.” With that he kisses her, putting all his love and passion it causes her own eyes to water.

“I love you too,” she kisses him again. They remain on the couch, falling asleep eventually curled up in each other’s embrace. Their last thoughts filled with joy as they awaited the new adventure on the horizon.

An adventure just between them. A reinstated Goddess and a fully pardoned Baron opening the next chapter of their lives. Together.

[bigskydreaming]

Okay, so you know “Justice League meets Batman’s kids, who they’d previously been unaware existed” AUs?

So picture that.....but this time, instead of them just having no knowledge of any of these other Gotham vigilantes at all....the Batkids all migrate to various cities as they get older and become known as their protectors - Dick in Bludhaven, Tim in San Francisco, Cass in Hong Kong, etc....

Meaning they’re all established figures, the Justice League are aware of them as solo local heroes who stick to their cities and so they just don’t interact with them much if at all, or else some are members of team lineups but are particularly vague about their histories or life outside of the team’s adventures....

So the big reveal isn’t that they become aware of all these other Gotham vigilantes all at once....its that some big conflict or whatever requires a huge team up of all available heroes, and in the aftermath, they figure out that like.....despite being known as solo heroes who work alone or loners outside of their team settings, 80% of these heroes all not only seem to already know each other, they seem to be related.

And so naturally they all turn to Batman, who has profiles on every known hero and they thus figure had researched these individuals too and just never mentioned this little detail, and they’re like, “Did you know about this?”

And then Nightwing turns to him too, arms crossed and is like, “Yeah Dad, did you know about this?”

And the infamous Red Hood is all: “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I have never met any of these people before in my life. Lives? Whatever.”

And then Red Robin moodily grates out “I have no siblings.” Since he’s nursing a grudge since Dick and Jason broke into his apartment the night before and replaced all his custom Red Robin gear with Darkwing Duck merchandise and his vengeance will be swift and also totally disproportionate because things escalate quickly in this family, that’s true in every universe.

Cass meanwhile has deftly skewered Jason’s lie by walking over to him and brazenly patting down the man with many many guns with no fear whatsoever. He squawks and futilely attempts to bat her hands away as she riffles through his many pockets, but he doesn’t seem shocked, just annoyed. Eventually, she pulls away and triumphantly reveals a box of Hello Kitty themed band-aids.

“So these are yours then? Just for you?” Black Bat asks smugly. Red Hood squints at the box.

“What the fuck? How long have those been in my jacket? Why are those in my jacket? Did you freaking plant them in my jacket just on the offchance you could at some point in the distant future use them at my expense?”

Black Bat frowns, puzzled. “Yes?”

“Oh come on, Dead Hood,” Spoiler says with an exaggerated toss of her head meant to convey she’s rolling her eyes beneath her own mask. She skips her way across the room to Black Bat and then drapes herself languidly all over the smaller woman. Who in turn doesn’t so much as twitch beneath the sudden added mass as Spoiler holds out her hand towards the box of band-aids. 

“One please. I have a boo-boo,” she says with easy familiarity straight into the intimidating cowl of Black Bat. Only then does she deign to finish her train of thought with Red Hood.

“I mean seriously, are you saying you don’t have potential blackmail set-ups, pre-rigged releases of incriminating material, and a random assortment of traps, pratfalls and mortifying scenarios in place for the express purpose of being able to humiliate any and all of your siblings at any given moment, without any need for additional prep time?”

“Is this true, Little Wing?” Nightwing whirls on the larger Red Hood with a faux-scandalized gasp. The founder and leader of the Titans, formerly the Teen Titans, renowned for his stratagems and calm competence when directing squads of supers in the heat of battle while he keeps pace with nothing more than naturally acquired acrobatics and a utility belt that apparently uses the same technology as Wonder Woman’s invisible jet....now appears to be....staggering with the back of his hand pressed to his forehead, moaning about how he felt....faint? 

What is happening right now, several dozen superheroes want to know. Is this a drill? Are they supposed to be checking for signs of a mental ambush from undetected psychic saboteurs? Did they all hit their heads at the exact same time and are now experiencing some kind of shared mass concussion?

Look, that wouldn’t be the weirdest thing to ever happen on the Watchtower. 

“Have I failed you so utterly?” The veteran child hero bemoans with a dramatic twirl - that when contrasted with his stern demeanor of a mere ten minutes ago - makes the fears of telepathic infiltration seem less paranoia and more....concerningly probable. “Did you learn nothing from me? Did you learn nothing from B?”

He stops and jabs a finger up at the sky. “Quick, everyone! What is the very first rule of Living While Batty?”

As if by rote, over a half a dozen voices chime in from all over the room, causing various heroes to jump. Spooked by yet more and more vigilantes joining in some kind of mass recitation like they and they alone have some kind of clue what the hell is going on and everyone else just hadn’t been invited to the party. Which is just rude, honestly. Nobody likes feeling like they weren’t invited to the party. Not even superheroes. 

“If you’re not going to bother preparing for every possible contingency and at least six impossible ones, you might as well just stay in bed.”

Even the Red Hood joins in the Illuminati chant or Cub Scout pledge or demonic ritual or whatever the fuck that just was, though his slumped and exasperated posture gives away every hint of sulkiness his headgear otherwise would have kept safely hidden. He’s surprisingly more...expressive, than most who’d only known of him by reputation had expected him to be. The day continues to yield surprises.

“Of fucking course I do,” he growls out, snatching the box from Black Bat. She doesn’t even fight to hold onto it, just lets it go with a knowing smirk. “I wasn’t surprised by the idea of it, I was just surprised she bothered with such a weak effort. Like yeah whatever, actually those could be mine. I use those all the time at home. So what?”

He aggressively yanks one of the band-aids out of the box, fumbles with the peel-off strips with one hand and he roughly rolls up the sleeve of his jacket with the other. Then just slaps it on his forearm and raises said appendage high, showing it off this way and that. “See?”

“Oh yeah, for sure,” Signal drawls from the other side of the room, nodding his head approvingly. “Totally convincing. Nice job walking that one back, you really showed them.”

Red Hood’s head snaps in his direction with ominous intent. “Watch it, Day-Glo.”

Signal just snorts.

“Yeah, like I’m gonna take constructive criticism on my name and costume from a dude who’s spent the last several years calling himself Red HOOD while running around in a freaking HELMET.”

“Its not meant to be literal, you fucking pedant.”

“So wait, its not literally a helmet? Huh, does it at least protect your head literally, or just like...symbolically? Like if Bane were to clock you across the head, would your concussion just be a metaphor? What’s the treatment protocol for a metaphorical concussion? Fluids, bedrest and a philosophical prescription of two chapters of Chicken Soup for the Soul as needed?”

“Laugh it up, KC and the Sunshine Band,” Red Hood bats back. “You just got yourself disinvited from Thursday night’s poker game.”

Signal just grins and folds his arms over his chest cockily. “Please. You’ve been looking for an excuse to ban me for weeks, cuz you know until you can prove I’m using my ghost vision to cheat, you can’t actually bring suit against me for it in Family Court.”

“That, and also Family Court isn’t a real thing, you toddler. Stop validating Wing-a-ding-ding’s obsession with Shitty TV Nostalgia and just call it that thing where Oracle traps us all in a room until we settle our latest fight without anyone getting stabbed.”

“Yeah, but like, say that five times fast,” Spoiler pipes up. “Its just not practical. Family Court’s way easier.”

“Says the one who’s not even in our fucking family.”

“And yet I grace you all with my sublime presence anyway,” she blows a kiss at him, beatifically unbothered. “You’re welcome.”

The Red Hood scoffs and rounds on his heel, zeroing in on Batwoman in the far corner.

“Hey Auntie B, my siblings are all dead to me and I just helped stop an alien invasion so I deserve nice things like a fun Saturday night. Can you get me into Dad’s fundraiser so I can crash it? He won’t put me back on the list until I promise not to bring any C-4 with me and I won’t promise not to bring any C-4 because he should just trust me that I won’t when I say I’m not gonna and he won’t trust me that I won’t until I admit I shouldn’t have brought any to that sting last month where three tiny little yachts blew up through barely any fault of my own, and I’m just not gonna do that ever because I have convictions and I feel I shouldn’t have to be punished for that. Y’know?”

Batwoman blinks at him. “Kid, I’m not gonna lie to you. You’re my nephew and I love you, but I stopped listening three seconds into all that.”

“Ugh, fine. Can you help me crash Dad’s event tonight so I can teach him a lesson about why he should just trust me not to make a scene so I don’t have to always make a scene to make a point.”

“Tempting as you make that sound,” she says wryly, “I have a strict policy for dealing with you lot and your......everything. I only worry about tolerating one of you at a time, and there’s seven of you, and seven days in the week. You each get your own. You know perfectly well its Robin’s day today. You get me on Tuesday, just like always.”

“Auntie B, we’re not like other families, are we?” Red Robin’s delivery is sarcastically childish and his question clearly rhetorical. Most of his attention is fixated on whatever it is he’s doing with his wrist-mounted computer. 

“No sweetie, we’re all severely fucked in the head and a little bit too comfortable with that.”

“Just checking. Oh hey, Hood, I just emailed you a patch for the hole in your firewall I exploited when replacing all my shit using your accounts just now.”

“You did what?”

“Used your accounts to pay to replace all my stuff that you fucked with last night?” Red Robin says slowly. “Did you not realize that I’ve been sticking within ten feet of you for the past five minutes just so I could clone your devices and do all that while BB and Spoiler kept you distracted? I gotta say, bro, I feel like that’s on you then.”

Red Hood swivels his helmeted head in the direction of the aforementioned two. Black Bat waves. Spoiler shoots him an utterly unrepentant thumbs up.

“You’d side with your ex over me? That’s what its come to?”

“My only allegiance is to chaos,” Spoiler says brightly. Black Bat shrugs.

“Plus he bribes better.”

“Hateful,” Red Hood points at Black Bat, moving on to level the same finger at Spoiler, who curtsies in acknowledgment: “Hateful-er.”

Then the finger rounds the bases to aim judgmentally at Red Robin. “Hateful-est. And that was all Nightwing’s idea anyway, not mine.”

“Oh, I assumed as much,” he says casually. “Your idea of a prank tends to have more of a Carrie vibe. Or be a literal literary reenactment.”

“Its called an homage, 4chan.”

“Whatever, plagiarist. And anyway, I couldn’t go after ‘Wing for payback on this one. He used an Immunity card. If you didn’t want me getting back at you, you should have used one too."

Red Hood looms aggressively. Red Robin ignores willfully. Round and round they go. Superheroes who can survive excessive G-Forces are getting dizzy just watching them have a largely motionless stand-off. That shouldn’t be how that works, but whatever. All the most infamously reclusive and isolated heroes in all hero-dom are apparently part of the same one big reclusive and isolated family of fucked up weirdos and they’re all officially bonkers. Nothing makes sense anymore. Reality broke. Try another stall.

“Okay, but see, in order to have an Immunity card, I would have to participate in one of you losers’ stupid Immunity challenges,” the Red Hood drags out with exaggerated patience. “And I’m just not going to do that, on account of those all being fucking stupid. You see the problem there?”

Red Robin just shrugs. “I don’t know what to tell you, bro. You can have principles or you can have an Immunity card. You can’t have both.”

Meanwhile, on another side of....the same room.....look, its like, an octagonal room, probably. It has a lot of sides. Robin fends off questions from an aggrieved looking Superboy.

“You never told me you had a bajillion brothers and sisters!”

“Yes but I never said I didn’t either.”

Superboy rolls his eyes. “Oh yeah, so I should just assume everyone I meet has a bajillion secret brothers and sisters?”

“Well clearly it would have worked out in your favor in this instance if you had, now wouldn’t it?”

“Assuming of course that you can trust what has been said or implied here today and I am actually related to any of those numbskulls. Which I am not actually admitting to,” Robin tacks on hastily.

Superboy eyes him dubiously. “You joined in the same creepy chant all the others did and then got super self-conscious and looked around to see if anyone had noticed. Which uh. I did.”

“First off, your interpretation of body language is abyssmal. I do not get self-conscious,” Robin says with a delivery that probably could have benefited from being a little less self-conscious. “And second....that proves nothing. I guessed what they were going to say.”

“Word for word,” Superboy says super-skeptically.

“I’m very good at guessing things. You know this.”

“Okay. Guess how much I believe you right now then.”

Robin glares and folds his arms grumpily across his chest. 

“And what was that anyway? Was that like....you guys’ family motto or something like that?”

“Oh no,” Spoiler pipes up. “That’s much shorter.”

Superboy balks at that. “Wait, you guys actually have one of those for real?”

“Yup,” Steph says, counting out the words with her fingers. “He who laughs last....probably works for the Joker. So tranq him just to be safe. See? Only sixteen words. The first rule of Living While Batty is way longer, and what we said was just the abridged version. You should hear the original, before Black Bat put her foot down and refused to memorize it unless sizable edits were made.”

Superboy hovers between her and Robin now, both in mid-air and on the verge of taking Spoiler’s words as an invitation to hear just that. A low growl arises from Robin’s direction.

“Must you?” He asks the older vigilante, with a most put upon expression.

She looks at him pityingly. “Do you actually need me to answer that? Like, we’ve met, right? Hi, I’m Spoiler.”

“Wait, so Robin said that I just never specifically asked him if he had a bajillion brothers and sisters, and that’s why he didn’t tell me, so that means he wouldn’t have just lied and there’s not some code of secrecy that flat out forbids telling other people stuff, right?” Superboy realizes excitedly.

“Yes, excellent direction. Go on,” Spoiler says, steepling her fingers. Robin buries his face in the palm of one hand.

“Soooo, what other stuff could you tell me about Robin’s super top secret family that I wouldn’t think to ask about but that he would tell me about if I knew what questions to ask?”

She claps once, lightly but with emphasis. “Well done. You’ve passed the first barrier. Untold secrets await you behind just a few more.”

“I’ll get you for this,” Robin vows calmly. She waves a hand at him.

“Yeah, yeah. Just make sure you do it before January 1st, remember? You’ve promised retribution like ten times already this year and those don’t roll over, y’know. Rules are rules.”

“Enough!” Thunders a voice then, from the front of the room. Well one of the fronts anyway. Like sides, it has a lot of them, but this is the one where Batman’s standing. All eyes snap to him. Which is kinda just what eyes do when Batman says stuff like that. Its like his superpower, except he doesn’t actually have superpowers, which is what makes it scary. But where the snapping of the eyes (directional) is usually followed by Batman saying something else besides just “hey look at me,” here he pauses in the wake of his own call to attention’s waning reverberations. Uncharacteristically silent.

Not that, y’know, he’s normally Mr. Talkity Talk, but usually his silences feel like he has the words to fill them, he’s just withholding them. This though, this feels more like he doesn’t have any words at all. And he’s as confused by it as any of them, and most everyone else is confused by Batman being confused, and its this whole trickle down economy of confusion and its wrecking havoc on the value of the golden silence standard.

Of course, not everyone present is rendered spellbound with confusion.

“C’mon B,” Nightwing cajoles, leaning forward and practically radiating delight. “I think you know what you have to do now. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Its not likely to come around again.”

Red Hood snickers beneath his helmet and chimes in. “Yeah Pops, go ahead. You do this and you’ll actually have my respect for a whole twenty four hours. No, wait. Sixteen. No! Eight. Yeah, eight. Still a good deal.”

“Carpe diem, B,” Red Robin grins, leaning back as if to enjoy the show.

“Hey! Infringe on my trademark one more time, dude,” Signal throws a faux-glare at the former. Red Robin just quirks an eyebrow.

“And what, you’ll start saying Yum every time you eat a burger? Oh no. I’m hoist by my own petard.”

Signal flips him off with a grin and then redirects his attention back to Batman. “Yeah seriously though B, you kinda gotta do it now. Because if you don’t do it, then you’ll forever be the guy who didn’t do it, and you don’t want to be that guy, do you?”

“Yeah you really don’t want to be that guy,” Spoiler shouts out. “Nobody likes that guy. He’s the worst.”

“Do it, do it,” Black Bat starts chanting beside her, steadily picking up speed and volume. Several others start joining in. Even Robin appears to be slightly anticipatory, albeit trying very hard to hide it.

Batman sighs, and somehow everyone manages to hear it. Stills. Waits for....something? Nobody but them seems to have any clue what, but the air is thick and heavy with portentiousness. Something is about to happen, and all most of the heroes present could say for sure is it was something they never would have in a million years seen coming.

Finally, Batman straightens with the resigned air of a man about to have oh so many regrets. He crosses his arms, shakes his head, and in an absolute deadpan monotone, says:

“You are awful children. You know you’re killing me. You’re killing your father.”

[la-undercover-latina]

Sunglasses at Night

Summary: Stood up, Amber Lee goes to her godparents house and after a couple pep talks, a 80’s pop hit, and a game of keep away, she’s giggling and very happy with who her parents picked her godparents.

Warnings: mentions of alcohol abuse, being ghosted

The door slamming brought the Southern mom’s attention from the cookies that she had just shut the door on.

“Aunt Taylor?” She called and Ella came down the stairs, seeing her oldest cousin come inside. Nine year old Ella raised a brow.

“Amber? What are you doing here? Didn’t you have that date with that football jock tonight?” Taylor asked, crossing her arms.

“I thought so too. I waited at that damned restaurant for two hours before I noticed he was on AOL,” Amber growled, her eyes on the wine cabinet.

“Come here,” Taylor called, opening her arms for the young woman.

“I am sorry baby. But I don’t want you to become addicted to alcohol, baby. I’m gonna pull the godmomma card here. Amber Nicolette, look at me and you listen here good. I know you have had a shit night, but the cure shouldn’t be much more than a pint of ice cream. I know you’re growing up. But sweetie, I love you and I can’t let you ruin your life,” Taylor grasped Amber’s shoulders so the drummer would have to look her in the eyes. Blue-green eyes met now tearing up Hazel ones.

“I promise auntie,” Amber’s voice broke at her aunt’s words.

“Come here,” Taylor pulled Amber close to her. Amber leaned her head on her aunt’s shoulder, even though needing to bend so Taylor could put her hand on Amber’s head.

“It’s been so long since you called me auntie,” Taylor whispered. The last time she heard those words, Amber had sprained her ankle, and the words were spoken in agony while Nikki drove them to the hospital.

“I’ll always be your auntie. No matter if you’re 8 or 88. Don’t forget that,” Taylor told her, her own eyes filling with tears.

“Pipsqueak, I didn’t know you were coming. You mind coming into the studio for a sec. I want your opinion on some samples,” Nikki spoke with a smile, seeing his only godchild pressed to his wife. He’d ask Taylor later if Amber didn’t tell him.

“Ella, honey!”

“Yes mama?”

“Go get my tape player and my cassettes,” There was one thing that always made the Lee girl laugh and put in a better mood. While Ella turned to go find her mother’s tapes and tape player.

“There’s the little bastards,” Taylor smiled as she spotted her aviators on the coffee table.

“Got it mama,” Ella brought down the items and when she saw the sunglasses perched on her mom’s dirty blonde locks, she didn’t say a word before producing the cassette that her mom was looking for.

“You wanna get the ice cream or candy?” Taylor asked, and Ella smiled bittersweetly.

“I’ll get the ice cream,” Ella told her and the two walked to grab their items and set the table, with three spoons.

-

“Amber, I know you’re supposed to be doing something tonight. It was a date, wasn’t it? Was the guy a tool or something?” A murderous look filled his emerald orbs at the thought of someone mistreating Amber.

“He was a total tool, but not why you think. He never showed up,” Amber explained, tears filling her hazel orbs.

“I’m sorry munchkin. Guys suck, especially teenage boys. I hate to see you have to go through it. But I’m really afraid that this most likely won’t be the last time. Guys suck, but you’re fucking awesome! And I’m not just saying that because you’re my niece and godchild. You’re a great kid and you’ll find someone that realizes that as much as everyone does,” Nikki held a hand on her shoulder, before Amber pulled him into a tight hug.

“I love you Uncle Nikki,”

“Of course kiddo. It’s my job,”

-

“What’s all this?” Amber asked, seeing the tape player before Ella pressed play and stood next to her mom, and that was when Amber noticed black shades covering their eyes.

Before the lyrics game, the mother-daughter duo bobbed their heads to the beat of the 80’s hit.

Once Corey Hart’s voice filled the living room, a smile spread across Amber’s pink lips.

When the chorus came around, both mother and daughter pointed to her and sang along, making a giggle leave Amber’s lips. By the second go around, Amber had started singing along and letting her head fall back while she danced with her aunt and cousin.

“It always worked. Even when you were a baby. Used to annoy your uncle that it wasn’t rock music that got you all giggly,” Taylor tickled Amber’s sides, causing the nine year old Ella to run up and start tickling the girl that she felt was the older sister that never had biologically.

“Oh you’re on Cupcake,” Amber got into a running stance and Ella recognized it and ran towards the coffee table. Which then led to a game of keep away with the two girls. That was before Jude came down and saw that his big sister needed his help, and even at seven, he knew that he and Ella stood a chance against Amber if it was 2 on 1.

Taglist

@youlightmeupfinn @buckysimp101 @hallecarey1 @kata1803 @emely-ala @hisredheadedgoddess28 @chevygirl88 @midsummereve1993

[amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines]

Wanda//for it is only temporary

Request: Can I request A Wanda Maximoff x Reader, where reader's part of sword and they get stuck in Westview somehow, maybe they get powers similar to monica, and go to wanda for help

hey! i hope you like this!! this is my first wanda request so i’m sorry if it sucks, but here you go anyway! and thank you @statticscribbles for helping me with this! i’d be lost without you.

“Hold on, what?” Jimmy says and you stop to look up at him. You’re met with concerned eyes from everyone in the room, including Hayward and your own eyes widen a little in surprise.

You cough and look away, busying yourself with the suit that you’re hoping is intact and ready for a trip through the hex. You can feel them staring at you, and it makes your skin crawl, despite the majority of them being your friends as well as colleagues. 

They’re waiting for an explanation so they can tell you how bad of an idea it is. And you know it is, you don’t need them to tell you. You’ve spent enough time sat beside the invisible wall trying to find a way in and maybe whatever has caused Monica to rewrite her DNA has seeped into you, but even if it has, at least you haven’t been through it, you’re less likely to...well, to die. And you’ll take those odds, it’s better than the almost guaranteed death of Monica. 

“Think about it, Monica can’t exactly go back in, I mean it’s changed her DNA...no offence.” You send her a sympathetic look and she crosses her arms, a small scowl pulling at her lips. “But I haven’t been in, and I know Wanda, well I know her more than all of these people with guns that are gonna be pointed at her as soon as they find her. I can talk to her, like Monica said, she clearly needs help and well, I know what she’s going through, if anyone can help her and those people that are stuck in there, it’s me.” 

“Y/-” Darcy starts but you cut her off, the tension in the air is already too heavy, it sits on your chest, making it harder and harder to breath and it’s not helped by all of the concerned looks you’re getting. 

“Plus, what era are we in now? The 80s? I’ve always wondered what I’d look like with a perm.” You try to ease the tension with a joke, but the best you get is a forced smile from Jimmy that just makes you feel worse. “I’ll be fine. I have hundreds of people monitoring everything that goes on in there, and I have you.” You look at Darcy and her expression softens. “I know that as soon as you notice one thing wrong, you’ll be the one leading the army in, but please, trust me.” You squeeze her shoulder and she sighs, slumping back in her seat. “Just let me try.” 

“Please, don’t kill me!” You panic and throw your arms in the air. Wanda’s hand lowers a few centimetres, but her eyes still glow red and you remind yourself not to breathe too hard, you know, just in case. “I need your help.” You add and her arm drops to her side. She looks behind her, at the sage coloured house that keeps the three people she holds dearest to her. She knows exactly what each of them are doing. Tommy and Billy are using their dad as a climbing frame, and she should be in the kitchen, making them dinner and smiling as she listens to their laughter. 

But then she see’s the panic in your eyes. You look scared and she knows she doesn’t know you, but somewhere deep down she feels like she does. Maybe in another life you were friends, maybe if things were different, you would be friends. 

“Listen, I probably shouldn’t be telling you this.” You slowly walk closer to her and she stands straighter. “But there is a bunch of people outside of this place with guns and bombs and god knows what, just waiting to come in here and destroy it. But I’m not one of them, and neither is Monica or Darcy or Jimmy. In fact, Darcy and Jimmy have been enjoying this maybe a little too much, but that’s not the point. We want to help you, but we can’t do that if you keep kicking us out, because the people with the guns will come in and they will tear this place down, no matter what.” You explain and you watch her expression change. It goes from confusion, to anger and finally settles on sadness as tears pool in her eyes. 

“So why are you here?” She asks, her eyebrows furrowing as she looks you up and down. 

“Because I wanted to talk to you.” You say and she raises her hands, twisting and turning them together and your eyes widen in panic. You quickly stand straighter and wave your hands around. “But, not anymore.” You add quickly. “Listen, before I came in here, I couldn’t do this.” You say and your eyes change from their normal colour to an icy blue. 

“Oh.” Wanda says confused and you nod slowly. 

“Yeah. I also wasn’t bulletproof and I could barely fight my way out of a sleeping bag that one time I went camping, but I can now have people on the floor in seconds without breaking a sweat. I don’t know what to do. On the way here, an older woman asked how I was and I threw her into a house across the street.” You frown and watch her think for a few seconds. “So, please help. Because, well I can’t seem to control these and I actually quite like not assaulting random people.”  

“What do you think I can do?” She blinks and glances back at her house again. 

“I don’t know.” You shrug. “But you created this place, and you seem to be pretty good at controlling your powers...most of the time.” You mumble the last part and she glares at you. “But well, I figured who better to talk to when you suddenly find yourself become a superher-Oh, holy shit! Am I gonna be an avenger-right sorry, not the time.” You shake your head and she stares at you blankly for a few seconds. “I’m Y/n by the way.” You add quickly and she rolls her eyes. 

“Fine.” She nods. “I’ll help, but any mention of destroying this place and I’ll make sure you’ll never be able to use your newly found powers anymore.” She threatens making you gulp. 

With a flick of her wrist, your suit is transformed into a pair of blue jeans and a very loud t-shirt. Bright eye shadow irritates your eyes and when you try to move your hair from your eyes, your met with tight curls and your face lights up. 

“Did you just give me a perm?” You ask and she looks at your hair before nodding. 

“I thought you’d like it.” She shrugs. “Don’t get used to this. You’re only here until you learn to control your powers and then I’m kicking you out and nobody is going to bother my family again.” She says lowly and you gulp. 

You’re about to reply when footsteps come running down the path towards you. You look up and see Tommy and Billy running towards you with bright smiles on their faces. Vision follows shortly after and you forgot how to breathe for a few seconds, it’s like you’re looking at a ghost. He smiles at you and you return it before focusing your attention on the boys, it’s too much to see Vision alive and well right now.

“Boys, this is Y/n, she’s just moved in across the street.” She introduces you to the twins and they grin and wave at you. 

“Hey,” 

There’s an awkward silence for a few seconds before Wanda jumps in and paints a bright smile on her face. 

“Why don’t we welcome her to the neighbourhood and go bake some cookies for her!” She says and the boys cheer before running back into the house. 

Vision waves at you, but it feels off, it’s like he’s trying to figure out if he’s seen you around. And he has, just not here. 

“Dad!” Tommy shouts and Vision pulls his gaze away from you. He blinks and follows his sons back into the house.

It’s just you and Wanda now, and as soon as Vision walks through the front door, her smile falls. 

“Remember what I said.” She says and you nod quickly. 

“Yep, only temporary.” You reply and she gives you an approving look, before walking away. You look around, hoping that Darcy and Jimmy are watching and send them an unsure thumbs up. 

The credits roll, over a freeze frame of your face, and Darcy and Jimmy stare at each other. 

“Shit.” Darcy mumbles. 

support my writing! if you want! 

[chickwiththepurpleguitar]

for the prompt, maybe the whole gang + boardgames?

congrats on 500!!

Thank you! (Not gonna lie, since you didn’t specify if “whole gang” meant sunset curve or julie and the phantoms, my initial thought was to take it as literally every named character. So... stay tuned for an eventual sequel where every character comes to game night. though if you send me another ask about it i’ll get to it faster lol)

But anyway, I usually have a lot of trouble writing things with more than two characters at a time, so this was a great challenge for me. I hope you like it!

--

Game night is a Molina family tradition.

Once a month, they all gather in the living room in their PJs with way too much take out and take turns choosing a game to play. They stay up as late as it takes to play through everyone’s choices, and whoever’s won the most games by the end of the night gets five dollars and bragging rights for the rest of the month.

It used to be one of Julie’s favorite things. Her dad always chose Trivial Pursuit 80s and 90s Edition and then never won anything. Carlos always chose Monopoly and insisted on being the banker, even when he was too young to count any of the money without an adult’s help. Julie used to cycle through their big cabinet of board games and take the better part of an hour picking something out and then make everyone listen as she read the instructions aloud, even if it was a game they’d all played before. When Tía Victoria was able to join them, she cheated terribly, but she paid for the food, so no one could complain.

And every Game Night, every month, without fail, Mom won. Every game sometimes, but at least enough of them to take home the crown at the end of the night. She always cheered and put on her favorite Selena album for a dance party while they cleaned up, and then she gave Carlos and Julie exactly two dollars and fifty cents each, claiming, “It’s not about the money, mijos, it’s about being proud of yourself!”

They haven’t had a game night since she got sick. The last one was three weeks before her diagnosis, and she’d been tired and distracted the whole time, making stupid mistakes, letting Carlos and Julie win. She went to bed the minute they finished the last game, and Julie and her dad cleaned up the board games in silence.

By the time Rose Molina has been gone a year and a half, and Julie’s made some new friends, joined a band, and somehow brought three ghosts back from the brink of non-existence, Julie’s mostly managed to forget about their game nights. They’re just another one of the many things—like Mom’s chuletas and her Selena CDs and her fantastic hugs—that Julie’s had to push to the back of her mind just to keep herself from falling apart.

But then, she walks into her living room after school one day, eager to shower and change her clothes before going to find the guys, and finds the guys—crowded around the game cabinet (Luke is actually sitting on top of it, because he has the height issues of a feral cat), arguing about something or other, pieces of various board games scattered across the floor around them.

“What are you guys doing?” Julie says, and all three ghosts jump (Luke startles so badly he poofs out and then reappears on the floor between the other two, leaning so far into his “act natural” pose that he almost knocks Reggie over). Julie raises an eyebrow, silently repeating the question.

The boys exchange wide-eyed looks, and then Alex sighs. “It’s dumb.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it.”

When, still, no one offers up an explanation, Julie crosses her arms over her chest and trains a sharp look on each of them in turn (it’s a look she definitely picked up from her mom). “All right. Who’s going to tell me what’s going on here? Reggie?”

He ducks his head, hands in his pockets, like if he can’t see her then she can’t see him. Julie rolls her eyes and moves on to who she thinks will be the easiest to crack. “Luke?”

He blushes and steps forward, gesturing wildly as he stammers out, “Well, you see, boss, we were just—and actually it was Alex who—and then Willie said—”

Julie holds up a hand. “Stop. Don’t strain yourself. Alex?” She gives her third and final bandmate a pleading look.

Alex heaves a great sigh, resolutely looks Julie in the eye, and admits, “We were looking to see if you had Pretty Pretty Princess.”

Julie blinks, baffled. That was not at all what she’d expected him to say. “Can I ask why…?”

“It was Alex’s favorite back in the day!” Reggie says, grinning now that he’s not trying to keep things from her anymore. “We used to play it with his little sister, and Alex would get the crown every single time.”

Alex shrugs humbly, smirking. “What can I say? I knew my talents. Luke, on the other hand, always lost.”

“I didn’t lose,” Luke protests. “I chose to give up because I looked badass in the black ring!”

“Anyway, so Willie told Alex they’ve never played it,” Reggie cuts in before Luke and Alex can get into an argument. “So we were trying to see if you had it so we could all play together.”

That’s when Julie remembers—game nights with her family, her mother’s frankly ridiculous winning streak—but instead of it making her sad, the memory sends a smile spreading across her face. “You know what, Reggie? I think that’s a great idea. Alex, go get Willie. I’ll call Flynn. It’s time I introduced you boys to Molina Family Game Night.”

featuring subtle he/they Willie cause I was too much of a cis coward to use it last time

Send me a pairing and a prompt to celebrate my 500th follower!

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[mediocre--writing]

The Drooping Red Silvias on the Dining Room Table

Tom Riddle X fem!Hufflepuff!Reader

Summary: “Love could be remembered forever and it could be dwelled on for decades, but it didn’t last forever. Nothing did. Not a truly happy smile. Not the Red Silvias on the dining room table. Not even love.”

Word Count: 4544

Warnings: like two bad words, SUPER ANGSTY

“Pathetic, isn’t it?” A teasing voice questioned from behind Tom’s left shoulder.

“What is it now?” He heard a light giggle as he felt her get closer to him, her aura contrasting his in every way.

Where he was harsh, sharp angles, she was kind and bright, in every way possible. And it beat just about every brain in Hogwarts how the two ended up together at all.

“How much you mope around school scowling at people when you could just come find me and we could have a grand ol’ time!”

And so it was, the grin that was hardest to suppress made its way across his dull face, one only the girl next to him could elicit from him. He enjoyed it, no matter how much he protested her jokes and immature behavior, it brought out the child in him that he was never allowed to show.

“Should you be any more childish, they might have to hold you back this year, L/n,”

Matching smirks graced their faces as they made eye contact in the busy hallway on their way to dinner, in which she would ditch her rightful place at the Hufflepuff table and sit with Tom at the Slytherin table, a good bit away from any other students in the house.

“They would never, I’m far too loved in this school for anyone to wish me a disadvantage!” She said, mocking an offended tone and placing a dramatic hand on her chest.

“Think what you will, but you are one of the most adorably immature people I've had the chance to meet,”

“Oh, Tommy, that’s just pessimistic, be a bit happier, will you? We’ve got, like, a month left of school and I’d like to be happy for the time being, if you can manage that?”

They sat at the end of the Slytherin table, close to the door, and far from other students. They both began to place food onto their plates in mass amounts, the Hufflepuff being more than distraught at the idea of having to lose Hogwarts’ meals after graduation.

The brunet smiled at the bubbly girl in front of him, her eyes glimmering from the reflection of candles in the hall. There was nobody he admired more, from her personality to her obsession with Herbology to the way she read, all curled up on an uncomfortable library chair, and he especially adored the way she kept him connected to the person he always strived to be, even if he didn’t notice himself drifting, she always did.

“I think I can manage that,” He said softly, looking down to add more roast to his dinner plate. “For you, I think I can manage anything,” 

“Pathetic, isn’t it?” A teasing voice questioned from behind Tom’s left shoulder.

“What is it now?” He questioned the ghost that haunted him to this day.

“Well, the fact that you’re trying so hard, for one,” Her mocking voice chuckled as her semi-transparent form drifted to face him.

The man-- if you could call him that-- groaned at her insistence on bothering him.

“I also think that you’re doing far to much to not die, that you’re gonna end up getting killed and only end up living to, like, 80, at the most,”

“If you could be quiet for a moment then maybe I would be able to focus and then I won’t get killed!” He snapped, agitated at the nuisance around him, slamming his hand onto the table that had plans spilled across it.

“Too bad you can’t kill a ghost, huh?” She quirked her head to show a false sympathy for the man, “Though, you already did kill me, so…”

“Shut up!” He tried to command with a strong voice, but it came out quieter than he wanted it to, guilt overtaking what was left of his emotions.

She let out a loud sigh as she crossed her arms over her chest, rolling her eyes, “No need to be so dramatic, Tommy,”

“Why don’t you just go to wherever it is you go when you’re not bothering me,” He sneered at the ghost of a girl who used to be everything to him, but was now diminished to absolutely nothing.

“Alright,” She said, backing up to disappear and reappear somewhere else, “Catch you later, Tommy!”

He let out a final groan after she disappeared, getting back to what he was doing before.

Meanwhile, at Hogwarts, the ghost was wandering around, talking to other ghosts, sometimes waving to younger students, and just milling around with nothing to do.

“Excuse me,” she heard a timid voice call from around her. “Ma’am, excuse me,”

“Are you talking to me?” She asked, raising an eyebrow at the brunet boy below her who nodded at her question. “What is it you need, darling?”

“Do you know other.... uhhhhh,” He paused his question, eyes darting around as if to escape the prevalent tension, “Other people, who have… gone from the world?”

“Why do you ask, and what is your name, darling?” The Hufflepuff asked tenderly.

“I’m Neville,” The boy spoke as his cheeks flushed pink, his grip tightening around his satchel, “And I was reading about how some ghosts have contact with those who are passed through, and others can’t and I just wondered if there were any ghosts at Hogwarts who could--”

“Neville, darling,” He was pulled from his rambling and fidgety monologue, “I’m very sorry, but I’ve not been able to contact those who have passed, but I may know who you are referring to, given I have been around Hogwarts for quite a while,”

“Well, my parents…”

“What’s your last name?”

“L-Longbottom, ma’am,” the boy stuttered out quietly.

“Your parents, they’re Frank and Alice, correct?” She tilted her head as she lowered her body from floating feet above the floor to be closer to the ground so as to not be intimidating to the shy boy, who looked more like his father than he probably knew.

“Yes, you knew them?” Neville had a spark of hope lit in his eyes, it was apparent in the way he straightened his posture and could look her in the eyes.

“Yes, I also knew your grandmother, Agusta, while I was at Hogwarts, is she still as intimidating as she once was?” Neville nodded with a small smile, “Well, Alice was one of the first friends I made while wandering Hogwarts. Kindest women I’ve ever met, by a long shot. I didn’t know Frank too well, however, but Alice worked him into just about every conversation she could, she loved that boy,”

“Do you have any stories?” Neville asked, taking a seat on a bench on the side of the hallway, “If you don’t mind, that is?”

“Of course I don’t mind!”

She spent until curfew talking about Alice and Frank, stories of their dates and their friends and how goofy and awkward and wonderful they both were. Neville had never felt so close to his parents, he could almost cry.

Y/n loved talking about her friends, though she was never truly a friend, but she liked feeling close to people and helping them along in the world.

She’d seen people she was once close to go down a path that only resulted in destruction, and she wanted to prevent as many people from doing that as she could. It hurt everyone when someone hurt themselves.

After Neville had gone to bed, she had begun wandering the halls once again, watching paintings move and random cats and owls move around outside on the grounds.

She could never get tired of the castle, especially not the grounds, which, no matter the weather, always seemed to be green and full of life. She loved the edge of the forest, right before it got too dense but where you could still be surrounded by trees.

“Tommy!” She squealed, feeling the blood run to her head as she was hung over his shoulder. “Tom! Thomas!”

He was giggling right along with her, running across the lawn, over to the forest where nobody went, enjoying the warm, sunny, spring day that seemed rare this time of year.

He finally allowed the girl’s feet to touch the ground, but kept her wrapped in his arms holding their chests together, fast breathing causing them to touch every breath or so.

“Was that necessary, love? You could’ve just asked to walk over here calmly,” She smirked, watching as his cheeks lost some of their pink tint as he calmed his breathing.

“Yes, but aren’t you always the one telling me that life should be fun, not mundane, like I, apparently, always am?” Tom teased the girl, poking one of her cheeks as she leant against a tree, staring into his eyes.

He pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, where a small white flower already was, probably from the bouquet that he’d given her just a few days ago. The bouquet had been mostly white flowers, along with a few yellow ones, and he’d said the white flowers were as perfect and pure as she was, along with the yellow sunflowers that he’d put in, comparing them to her bright smile.

“You’re not mundane,” She smirked, poking his cheek as well, to prove a point, but let her hand rest against his jaw, “maybe a little dull sometimes, but --”

His lips touched hers tenderly and with love as he smiled into the kiss they shared, in the forest, away from prying eyes and lurkers.

She gasped a bit from the surprise of her sentence ending so abruptly, but sunk into the kiss after a moment, still holding his cheek in her palm as his hands wrapped around her waist, curling her into his chest.

This was a routine for them, hiding from the eyes that seemed to follow them everywhere and share tender moments that neither would forget in years to come.

Sometimes, the moments they shared, weren’t just kissing, they would sit in the back corner of the library, far from the librarian’s prying eyes, and would read old children’s tales to one another.

(She swore that his voice was made for reading, and the way his chest felt when she rested on his lap was perfect for casual reading days.)

Other days, they would do homework. More like Tom would try and work and she would talk his ear off until he threatened her to do her work. Though the threats were harmless, (ex: no cuddles or kisses until Monday) though, he wasn’t good at keeping them anyway. She was too perfect to just ignore for the sake of lousy school work.

They enjoyed their time together, no matter what they did, it was always precious time if it was spent with the other.

“Ms. L/n!”

She jumped from her daydream as she noticed the man standing at the end of the hallway.

“Professor Dumbledore, how are you tonight?”

“I’m fine,” He smiled kindly from underneath his half moon spectacles, eyes glimmering even in the darkest corner of the castle. “You know what’s been brewing outside these walls. I’m here to ask something from you, once again. Would you be willing to aid me and my friends as you did many years ago, should the time come to do so?”

She stared off, quietly wishing she didn’t have to. “Of course, Professor,”

“My thanks means nothing in comparison to the help you will give us, Ms. L/n,”

The man nodded once more and walked to the end of the hallway, turning left as he disappeared out of sight.

Though it meant close to nothing, she couldn’t help but feel guilty.

How could she have gotten into Hufflepuff, the house of the loyal, if she were betraying the one person who ever treated her with more than a fake smile and courteous conversation.

Her Tommy, who had once been a kind soul who only wanted to feel the love he had been deprived of in his first life. The happiness that had been brutally ripped away from him any moment he got too comfortable.

It was the right thing, going against Lord Voldemort, but there was still a part of her that wanted to help Tom Riddle on the right path when there was so much persuading him from straying to the wrong path.

The person she knew was, well, a person at heart. He may not have shown it often, but he wanted what people were given freely. He hated having to ask or dream of what others were given daily.

For what should give a person a reason to treat a child as less than loved?

“Y/n I’ve been looking for you everywhere, do you know wh--” He paused halfway through the two shelves that hid the table and chairs that they would go on study dates to.

It was the perfect spot, a small window that showed the hilly landscape outside and allowed just enough light that it gave the spot a romantic feel without being too dark or light. There was a small table and two plush chairs, which was just enough for the two. It was the perfect spot, apart from right now, where there was Y/n, tears pouring down her cheeks as she tried to mop them up with the end of her sweater sleeves.

He walked up to her, slightly shaking, body, crouched down a bit, and opened his arms, to which she wrapped her sweater-covered hands around him and connected her hands around his neck, pulling him partially down to her chair.

He adjusted them bit by bit until he was in the chair and she was laying across his lap and chest, her cheek nestled into the side of his neck, his light gray sweater getting slightly damp from her tears.

She began to stop crying, embracing the earthy, yet clean smell he had, along with his fingertips running up and down her spine in an effort to bring comfort to the girl. She shivered every once and a while, in which he would respond by snuggling her deeper into his warm body.

They remained quiet for a while, even after she stopped crying and was breathing normally, just enjoying the embrace, and the calm atmosphere that came with it.

“Wanna tell me what’s got you spooked, darling?” He asked in a whisper, scared to break the comfort with too loud a voice.

She shook her head in the crook of his neck, nustling her nose deeper into his sweater, which was softer than anything she’d ever felt. ‘I’ll have to steal that later,’ she thought.

“That’s alright,” He reassured, “It wasn’t somebody, was it? Or were you overwhelmed, darling?”

She smiled into his shoulder, murmuring “Overwhelmed,” as she closed her eyes once again, feeling more tired than ever.

He had to know that it wasn’t someone who made her upset, and knew that more often than not, it was just a mix of school and general teenage angst, which he knew that better than anyone.

He felt her warm breath on his neck, feeling her yawn as she readjusted her head again, “Tired, darling?” to which he got no reply other than her arms squeezing around his torso a bit tighter than they had been.

He chuckled to himself, smiling at the girl who, in his eyes, at least, couldn’t be more perfect.

During the last war, Y/n had been in the same predicament.

She wanted to do the right thing for a majority of people, but she also felt as if she was going against her loyalty for not defending Tom, though he was barely even who he used to be at that point.

She had advantages for either side, mostly the Order of the Phoenix, because she understood how The Dark Lord’s mind worked and you couldn’t exactly hold a ghost back from a room or hear what she wanted, given you couldn’t exactly stop her from just floating through the wall.

She knew it was the right thing.

She wasn’t a complete idiot, she knew basic right from wrong, though it didn’t erase guilt.

Nothing erased guilt.

That went both ways.

Tom still felt a tremendous amount of guilt when it came to his lost love.

She had never given up on him, not a single time between their years at Hogwarts and the years beyond when they had been trying to understand how their life worked without people telling them how to act. Without set rules to follow.

They’d never strayed from one another, always been loyal and adamant about their trust in one another.

She never doubted him, and that was the worst part. She didn’t see him as a god or supernatural being, and he supposed it was nice to be admired for being a person rather than for actions that could be twisted back and forth.

He didn’t have the best conscious, given it was switching between what he wanted and what he needed, and she was something he needed, but he prioritized his wants over her. His views on blood status had clouded his judgement and, in turn, lost him everything he’d ever wanted and everything he’d needed.

“Stop acting like a fucking twat for once in your life, Thomas!” She screamed as she found, yet another, suspicious book sitting on his desk.

This time it was a book called Horcruxes: How to Make and Destroy the Key to Eternal Life.

“What is that supposed to mean?!” He was agitated, he was close to pulling out his own hair in pure agitation, “I was reading a book and now you’re being all pissy for no reason!”

“Oh, so you can read?” She asked, hands on her hips like a scolding mother, “Then what was the title of your little book, Tom?”

He was silent, looking around the room rather than in her eyes. He’d been caught but he was far too stubborn to admit that he was at fault for the argument.

“Tom,”

“If you’re so mad then just get out!”

“I’m not mad at you, I just want to know what’s going through your head because from what I’m looking at, it’s not a good situation. And you know, good and well, that I will believe what you tell me, but if you keep lying then I really will ‘get out,’”

She set the book down on the desk as she watched his body language, surveying his eyes flickering around the room and his fingers loosening and tightening his tie again and again.

“Tommy,”

“I don’t want to lose you, ever, and I’m trying to figure out a way that we never have to be without the other.” She opened her mouth to question him further but he began rambling, “I want to be with you forever and I don’t want us to be apart because I know we’ve been together for a long time, but I can’t bear the thought of, one day, not having you with me. It’s something I can’t afford to lose because of some stupid mistake or-or,”

“Tommy,” She put her hand over his, which was on the arm of his chair, “Life is about losing things and gaining things. We can’t cheat nature just because we want to be loved for longer or because of pure selfishness. I don’t exactly want to live without you, either, but I know that you’re always going to love me and I know that I will always love you, no matter what you think, so just calm down for a few moments and enjoy life while you still get to,”

That night had changed everything.

Had the conversation been had earlier, maybe the first two Horcruxes wouldn’t have been made. He rethought everything after that, finding his humanity that he’d been repressing for months, all for her.

It was never that easy, though. He had already made the Horcruxes, and he vowed he would stop now.

And he did. For almost a year, he made no more moves to further his progression of splitting his soul into seven pieces. He found happiness, he kept her love for him in a pocket right over his heart, where he also kept the small flowers she would pick him out of the garden, and he still felt like a person.

A person who, though he was now beginning to regret it, had an army of loyal, blood supremacists behind him. He had made them promises that he was now beginning to question.

It was a beautiful morning.

A blue sky, blooming flowers, and the smell of rain that was sure to fall later in the day. But now, Tom was reading in his study, watching his wonderful darling tend to her garden, she was fascinated with nature, what it meant and how it grew so freely.

She would ramble about why she had certain bouquets into the dining room table, about what they meant, and how her smile was only brighter when she was talking about him.

(“These are daisies and morning glories. The daisies mean hope and the morning glories mean care and affection. I noticed you were moping earlier and wanted you to feel happier.”)

(“These are violets and asters-- they look pretty together, no?” “Of course they do, darling,” “The violets are for loyalty and the asters are for love, because that’s how I feel for you,”)

(“All yellow tulips, darling?” “I read somewhere that they represent the sunshine in your loved one’s smile, and you just light up my world,” “Oh, how cheesy, darling,”)

That morning, she’d put in a large bouquet of Red Salvias, which bounced well off the crisp white tablecloth underneath.

“And what of those flowers, darling?” Tom had asked once he came into the room to find her in her gardening clothes, dirty and grimy but still looking absolutely stunning while she arranged the red flowers.

“They’re Red Salvias, they represent a forever love,” She’d sent a cheeky smile towards him at the last part of the sentence, to which he walked towards her, grinning, and wrapping his arms around her from behind.

“Then we shall put them everywhere, darling,” He whispered softly into her ear.

Her smile was one that could not be broken. When she was around those she loved, nothing could dull her happiness and affection towards them.

Tom never wanted her smile to fade, not because of him and certainly not because of anyone else.

A knock was heard from the front door, harsher than the old neighbor lady, who would bring them sweets occasionally, would knock.

Tom looked back to her, then walked to the door, coming to see Abraxas Malfoy, one of his friends from school, though they weren’t necessarily friends, given their heritage.

“Abraxas, how nice to see you,” Tom said curtly, confused as to why the man was there, given he hadn’t spoken to any of them recently.

Little did Tom know that they had been meeting one another recently. All his followers met to discuss their leader’s change in attitude, which led to the answer for his rejection of ideals.

Quite the understandable distraction, they had agreed, but unnecessary all the same.

As Tom was tensely chatting with Abraxas Malfoy, another, undetected Death Eater had walked to the back door, sending a silent petrification charm at Y/n, catching her before she hit the ground.

Unable to speak or move, her eyes widened and looked to Tom worriedly as she was aggressively moved and bound, hands together and a strange man’s hand around her neck, squeezing hardly, but not too tight that she was losing oxygen.

After a few more moments, Abraxas noticed that the girl had been restrained and nodded for Tom to turn, to which he immediately pulled out his wand to the platinum blond, threatening him, but it was evident that nobody was there to hurt him.

There were two more masked Death Eaters in the garden, watching from outside, threateningly, as Abraxas smiled and Tom tried not to act rashly as Y/n tried not to allow tears to slip from her eyes.

“All we want is our old leader back, Tom,” Abraxas said from behind his right shoulder.  “It’s a pretty easy decision to make, if you ask me, we’ll spare the girl, if you come back to us, as you should,”

Tom’s wand, for the first time in his life, was trembling in his tight grip.

It didn’t feel right, the deal, and he knew that if he followed what he really, truly wanted, she wouldn’t live to continue his ideal life with him. But if he chose the path he was avoiding, would he lose her anyway, would she stay if he was a murderer?

She, though bound and being choked, didn’t feel as though she should be nervous, this was her Tommy, the Tommy who would read her children’s stories because it made her smile. The Tommy who would poke at her cheeks when she was trying to be mad at him.

Even if he chose, whatever it was, with these people, she knew that he would always be Tommy to her.

Her Tommy.

And as he made a decision, a stupid one on his part, he knew that it was his last act of true defiance and bravery.

He shot a spell at the man choking her, but was immediately pulled back down by Abraxas as he watched her fall over to the floor, unable to catch herself due to her bound hands.

“You have made a mistake, Tom, and we don’t tolerate mistakes here, now do we?”

There was one last look of vulnerability in Tom’s eyes as he watched a spell hit Y/n.

That last look of vulnerability lasted until his final death.

He watched as her, once tense, body went limp from the use of the Unforgivable Curse.

He’d done it to people before. He’d felt no remorse on the other end of it. He’d almost enjoyed the feeling of power that came with using the Unforgivables.

Not anymore. He didn’t like the other side. He didn’t like feeling this. The pain. The knowledge that if he’d just done what he should have a long time ago, he’d have her there. With him.

Abraxas allowed him to stand up, and he did, slowly, and tried to not look into her cold, dead eyes that still dripped with unfinished tears, and clothes still dirty from the gardening she’d done earlier that day.

He’d looked to the dining room table, at the Red Silivas that she’d just finished arranging only minutes ago.

The flowers that represented a love that spanned forever.

Little did those flowers know that forever only lasted until the love was broken in half and ripped to shreds. There was no love that lasted forever.

As the flowers would begin to droop with days to come and nobody to care for them, Tom’s once shining love would begin drooping with them.

Love could be remembered forever and it could be dwelled on for decades, but it didn’t last forever.

Nothing did.

Not a truly happy smile.

Not the Red Silvias on the dining room table.

Not even love.

[xiaojusaur]

Pairing: 80s Heartthrob! Lucas x Reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff, a hint of Angst

Warnings: Wild kissing, fingering, protected sex, praising, dirty talking

Word Count: 9.4K

Description: The campus heartthrob Lucas asks you for a pencil in class and invites you to dinner later, thinking you would fall for him as fast as the other girls. To his surprise, you will become his hardest catch and the thief of his heart. This story develops in the 80s, it contains a lot of 80s slang. 

“This History class makes me ralph,” you heard from your right side in the classroom. You looked with the corner of your eye to see Lucas, the biggest heartthrob on campus, with both hands on his face.

Any girl from campus would feel so lucky to be sitting right next to the campus cutie, but not you, you really didn’t care. In fact, you didn’t find him that fine, he was pretty normal to you. So, you decided to ignore him and keep paying attention to the class.

A few minutes later you heard again, “Hey, sweet thang, do you have a pencil I can borrow?” You thought he was talking to another person, so you didn’t even bother to look.

But then you heard, “Psst! Hey you, pretty thing on my left”. Surprised, you eyed him without saying nothing, trying to still hear what the professor was saying.

“Yes you,” he whispered when you looked at him. “Can I borrow a pencil?”

You just nodded and fished for your pencil case in your backpack. You then passed him the darn pencil and continued to pay attention to the class.

 At the end of the class, you already had forgotten about the pencil, so you packed your stuff and when you were about to walk out the classroom someone pulled you by the arm, making you stop abruptly.

You looked back alarmed to meet with Lucas big-rounded eyes.

“Sorry, I just wanted to give your pencil back,” he smiled. You could see why every girl was swooning over him, he kinda had a charm.

“You can keep it, I think you need it more than I do,” you smirked because you just called him moron.

His eyes scanned you from down to up, was he checking you out?

You confirmed your assumption with his next line, “Say, let me thank you then. How ‘bout we do lunch? My treat. We can get some za and brew. Whatchu think?” You hate his smug face.

You wanted to turn him down, though it was a tempting invitation, you weren’t about to be one more on his i-fuck-em-i-leave-em list.

“Hmm... I’ll pencil you in, just in case something comes up,” you left him in uncertainty.

“Schweet,” he said in his deep voice. There you had another reason why girls pissed their pants for him. “See ya’ around then,” he let you go.

 Your friend, who was waiting outside, saw everything and as soon as you stepped outside the classroom said, “Drop some science, homegirl.”

You rolled your eyes, “There’s nothing, I just gave him a pencil.”

“So you just gave a Pencil to THE Lucas, as if nothing?” She asked surprised.

“No duh! I’m telling you, he asked me for a pencil and I just gave it to him,” you explained again.

“Don’t bogart! I feel like there’s something more,” she squinted her eyes.

“Ugh, fine! Can you believe he asked to do lunch with me?” A smile started forming on your face.

“No way!” She squealed in the hallway.

“I kid you not!”

“Dude, that’s radical! What did you say?” She was so excited you almost felt guilty for saying no to Lucas.

“I said I’d pencil him in,” you whispered.

“Why would you do that?! Do you know the possibilities!?” She was so disappointed.

“Listen, like, I don’t wanna be another one on his list. You know his rep. I’m not about to be played again,” you confessed.

“Hey, but at least you would be getting played by someone fly as fuck! Have you seen that man?! He’s like fine as hell!”

“Not even,” you scoffed.

“Even! Where are your eyes?!”

“Ugh, whatever, I didn’t say no, if I change my mind I’d tell him,” you started walking to leave.

 Lucas POV

He met with his squad at the parking lot, everyone was waiting for him.

“Was about time!” Said Mark as soon as he saw him.

“Homeboy, where the fuck were you?” asked Hendery.

“Bruh, I just met this betty on my history class, I was trying to ask her out but she kinda said no,” he looked bummed.

“Tough, homie,” said Hendery.

“Anyways, what’s the plan? What are y’all down for?” He wanted to forget everything asap.

“How ‘bout we go to the dinner, we can grab some beer,” suggested Mark.

“Bitchin’”

 Your POV

Your friend and you decided to go to the dinner to get something to eat before returning home. After all, it was Wednesday and you needed to study. Some food would be nice.

You were sharing some fries and milkshakes when suddenly you saw him: Lucas.

You panicked a little but tried to look cool. You couldn’t fool your friend. “You saw a ghost or something?” But when she turned around, she knew the reason. Lucas was walking in with a few friends.

“Oh! Look who’s here! Maybe now you can actually tell him yes,” she joked.

“Psych!” You started laughing.

You tried to not draw too much attention so he wouldn’t see you but apparently you were everything he wanted now, as suddenly he was walking to you.

“Gag me with a spoon! He’s coming!” You panicked.

But before your friend could say something he got to the table.

“Heyy, sweet thang, good to see you here!” He sounded excited.

“Hey again,” you smiled nervously.

“Seems life wants us to meet,” he was being smooth.

“For sure,” you nodded.

“Can I sit here?” He pointed to your side on the table.

“Totally,” you said as you moved so he could sit. He looked at your friend and tipped his head, she just smiled back to him.

The thing about Lucas isn’t that he’s attractive, is his choice of words and how smooth he is. In no time, he’ll have you wrapped around his finger because he’s totally good with words.

He quickly felt confident to put his arm over your shoulders. Your friend almost choked on a french fry because he wasn’t being subtle at all.

“So, sweet thang, you have a name?” he said while raising an eyebrow, trying to look fly.

“Yeah, is pencil girl for you,” you were in the mood for joking a little.

He roared of laughter, “Oh baby, you’re really funny,” he commented.

“It’s Y/N,” you said laughing of your own joke.

“Cute,” he pointed out. “So, are you up for that offer? Or are you gonna turn me down again?” He asked.

“Listen, pretty boy, I will accept only because I’m already here,” you explained.

“Bitchin,” he smirked.

Your friend, who already was feeling awkward said, “Imma go talk to Joan about something, be right back!” and she flew out.

When Lucas saw your friend disappeared, he was looking at you, scanning you, trying to learn every detail of you.

“What?” you spat.

He just gave you a lopsided smile and responded, “Nothing, baby.”

“I’m not your baby,” you protested.

“You might be in the future.” This suave motherfucker!

“Not even,” you rolled your eyes.

“That’s what they all say,” he pulled you closer and you turned your head, avoiding what he had in mind to do.

Lucas clearly didn’t know you, you were down for playing this hard-to-get game.

He hummed, “I see, you’re a feisty one. Tell you what,” his lips got closer to your ear to whisper, “I’ve had many like you between my fingers and they all changed their minds as soon as they tried this.”

You couldn’t deny his groggy, deep voice in your ear giving you goosebumps, but you were not going to fall for his games this easily. If he really wanted something, he had to earn it with sacrifice.

“Oh, dear Lucas,” you said giggling evilly, “You don’t know anything about me, homeboy. You want something with me? You gotta earn it, work hard for it, and I might think about it. Okay?” You got up the table and looked at him in disbelief before almost running out of the place.

Your friend noticed and came running right behind you.

“Wait! What happened??” She shouted.

“Well, he just thinks he can whisper in my ear and get in my pants, so I got angry!” You were furious! How dare he! You were walking fast to your dorm.

“What a major hoser! I hope he gets kicked in the balls.”

“That’s not gonna happen, the world is in love with him,” you groaned.

“Well, maybe you can be his kick in the balls,” she shrugged.

“Grody” you grimaced.

  Lucas kept insisting, or should you say persisting? He kept talking to you in class, he would look for you at lunch, he would find any excuse to have a word. You loved to see him try.

You were at your locker storing some books when he appeared from the back, closed your locker door and caged you between his arms.

“Sweet thang, say, would you like to party hardy Friday night?” His breath smelled like peppermint, his eyes were staring at you intensively.

You heavy breathed annoyed, “Lucas, why are you so entitled? Isn’t there any other girl toy for you to bother?”

“Get real, you like me, you just want to seem interesting by playing hard to get,” he said so sure, you almost believe him.

“Oh, I’m so sure! You live in my head now?” You said sarcastically.

“I understand body language, baby” he rose his eyebrows. You just wanted to hit his smug face.

“Eat my shorts, Lucas,” you pushed him out of the way, but he wasn’t giving up so easily.

“Oh, I would love to!” He exclaimed a little too loud in the hallway.

“Hey, barf bag, leave her alone. Don’t you see she’s not into you? Get the hint, homie” said your friend, finally coming to the rescue.

He finally left, and you thanked your girl for the help. You really didn’t understand what was his damage.

  Your neighbor was throwing a party and she invited you. She was so nice, you couldn’t say no, plus, who doesn’t like parties? You invited your friend over because going to parties alone wasn’t fun.

You were looking totally wicked with a colorful shirt tied on the front and some high-waisted jeans, ready to dance your heart out and party hardy.

You could hear the boom of the music from your room, so you tried to hurry up. You ran down the stairs all ready to get greeted by your mom who just arrived from work. She said hi and told you to be safe and have fun.

You met your friend outside and then decided to enter the house. Your cute neighbor received you all happy and quickly gave you some drinks to set up the mood. The music was so nice, there weren’t many people and you all had space to dance.

You were dancing crazily with your friend when suddenly you saw him. You thought it was your brain playing games on you, you thought you were going mental but no, Lucas just entered the house with a few of his friends. Did he know your neighbor?!

“Oh no,” you said in panic but without stopping from dancing.

“What’s happening?” your friend asked.

“I’m gonna spin you so you can see,” you said.

“Kay.”

You changed positions with her and she saw him. “OH! Do you think he knows you’re here? Or is it just a coincidence?”

“I don’t know, with him everything is a surprise,” you rolled your eyes.

“Just let it flow, he hasn’t noticed you’re here.”

“Well, he will soon, let’s go get a drink,” you pulled her by the wrist.

 At the kitchen, you found your neighbor, “Hey! Are you having fun?” she said too excited, you suspected she was tipsy already.

“Yeah!! This party is hella stellar!” you said as you grabbed a drink for yourself.

“I’m glad! Well, I’ll be going around, my crush just arrived!” she giggled.

“Go get him!!” you encouraged her.

“He’s the cutest! Though he came with some friends, I’m trying my luck here,” she explained. Could it be one of Lucas friends? You decided to ask her.

“By any chance, is Lucas one of his friends?” That sounded so nosy, but fuck it!

“Yeah, is there any problem?” she looked so confused.

“No! Not at all,” you blushed.

She then smirked, great! Now they would think you like him. “Don’t tell me you like him?”

“Not even!!” you panicked, but now your neighbor AND your friend had their own speculations.

 You went back to the dancefloor/living room. Footloose by Kenny Loggings was playing so everyone was dancing happily. You pulled your friend to dance with you. While you were at it, you scanned the whole place to see where Lucas was.

You spotted him talking in a corner, drink in hand. He looked hot as fuck, wearing a leather jacket, black jeans, his jet-black hair styled naturally. Wait, what were you thinking? Must be the alcohol in your system.

Your friend caught you staring and started teasing you, “You don’t have to pretend with me you know? You can’t fool your bff”. She was laughing.

“What do you mean?” you were acting innocent.

“You know what I mean! Y/N, if you like him, you should give him the chance. Just have fun on the ride!” she encouraged you.

“What if I end up hurt?” you asked.

“Well, you know his fame. Try not to get so much into it,” she shrugged. “Though, with this, you’re confessing YOU LIKE HIM!!!”

“Stop!!! I just like the attention,” you sassed.

“Well, don’t panic, but he just spotted you and he’s walking here so act natural,” she said as she pretended to not see him.

“Barf me out,” you said between teeth.

 “Heyyy Sweet thang!” he said happy to see you.

“Oh! Hey, Lucas! I didn’t know you were here!” your acting was radical.

“Yeah, one of the homeboys goes together with the girl that threw the party,” he explained.

“Tubular!”

“Yeah! She’s neighbors with Y/N!” spoiled your dear friend.

You looked at her with menacing eyes, she wasn’t supposed to share that information, less with LUCAS!!

“For real?” he smiled excitedly.

“Yeah…” you said nodding.

“Bitchin!” he exclaimed.

Suddenly I Wanna Dance With Somebody by Whitney Houston started playing, everyone went wild and started dancing again. Lucas looked at you and you looked at him, like you two wanted to dance but nobody worded it.

“You guys should dance!” your friend finally said.

“Are you down?” he asked scratching the back of his head.

“Sure,” you shrugged.

He took your hand and pulled you nearer the dancefloor. He started dancing and smiling, you were hypnotized so you just stood there looking at him while smiling. “Come on! Show me those dance moves!” he pulled you closer and started to shake you to make you dance.

You started moving at the rhythm of the music, he spun you, sometimes his hand held you by the waist for too long. You both were jumping and twisting, having the time of your lives.

The song stopped and you both started laughing, you leaned on him to not fall from the laughter. He didn’t lose time and held you.

“Do you want anything to drink?” he asked being a gentleman.

“Would be gnarly,” you nodded.

“Be right back, sweet thing,” he said as he walked to the kitchen.

Your friend appeared out of nowhere when she noticed he wasn’t near.

“How was it?” she was smirking.

“Wicked good,” you confessed.

“You’re welcome,” she bragged.

“Thanks for saving my life,” you rolled your eyes, but honestly, you were thankful.

“You both were dying to dance! Pussies!” She left suddenly because she saw him walking to you again.

 “Here you go,” he placed his hand on the small of your back.

“Thank you,” you said as you took the drink from his hand.

“You smoke?” he asked casually.

“Nope, do you?” you made a daring face, testing him.

“Not if you don’t,” he smiled. This little bitch!

“Hmm… I see,” you ran your tongue over your bottom lip to wet it a little. You don’t know how he took that action but he chuckled.

 Girls Just Wanna Have Fun started playing and your friend came running to dance with you, so you left Lucas alone.

You wanted to tease him a little, so you started moving a little too sexy, your friend obviously understood what you were doing so she played along. You looked at him while dancing and he was just studying you while smiling.

“I think he’s really into you,” said your friend.

“No duh!” you said sarcastically

“What are you gonna do?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, are you going home with him? Are you gonna leave him hanging?” she was curious.

“I don’t know! What should I do?” you keened.

“I say you just let it flow. Do whatever he wants to do, don’t resist,” she suggested.

“Within my boundaries, of course,” you added.

“Exactly. He won’t do anything you don’t want to. He doesn’t strike me as that kind of guy,” she was looking at him.

“What if I want to?! That’s my fear!” You said alarmed.

“Just let it happen! Have the mindset that he’s a heartthrob, try to not get feelings,” she shrugged.

“Easy for you to say! You’re not the one getting hurt!” You complaint.

 As soon as the song finished, he walked closer to you, as if you had a magnet.

“Hey,” he surprised you from the back.

“Hi... again,” you smiled.

“Do you wanna... maybe take a walk?” he offered.

“Sure...” you nodded.

“After you...” he signaled to the door.

You both were outside, walking around the house, taking some fresh air. He had his hands in the pockets of his jacket, just so attentive to your conversation.

“So which one is your house?” He asked while looking down the street.

“Literally the one next to this,” you laughed.

He looked at it, a smile growing on his face.

“What?” You elbowed him.

“I just imagined you sneaking out through that window, jumping from there,” he started laughing.

“You! I’ve never done that! I’m a good girl,” you battered your eyelashes.

“You can’t fool me, baby. You’re not so much of a good girl,” he smirked.

“I may not be it, but I’ve never sneaked out through that window. And before you ask, nobody has jumped out of it either. Plus I’m a grownup, I can go out at any time,” you shrugged.

“Is that your room?” He asked about the window.

“Are you planning to rob me?” you asked back.

“Maybe,” he looked up acting innocent.

 You went silent, imagining him in your room, jumping out of the window because it was too late and your parents came home. You were smiling unconsciously and he caught you.

“A penny for your thoughts. It seems really interesting in there,” he was looking at you.

“Nothing, just... nothing,” you smiled.

“Pretty thing, you need to get real with me. Weren’t you a big girl?” He was challenging you.

You smiled and maybe the alcohol helped but you just blurted, “Well, I was thinking about you and I in my room and suddenly my parents get home or wanting to come into my room and it was really funny imagining you jumping out the window.”

He started laughing loudly, “Oh, you’re really funny. But seriously, what were we doing in your room?” You knew where he was going and you were so up for it.

“Stuff,” you shrugged.

“What kind of stuff?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Interesting stuff,” you smirked.

He hummed and then asked, “Are your parents home?”

“Probably sleeping, since it’s so late,” you looked at your watch and it was 2AM.

“You down for some interesting stuff?” He winked at you! And you almost swoon but you concealed it with a chuckle.

“Sure,” now you were challenging him.

 You opened the door, peeking inside making sure your parents weren’t in the living room. When you saw the house completely dark and silent, you extended your hand to Lucas, who was waiting right behind you. He took it and you darted inside, closing the door almost silently behind you.

You both went upstairs in your tiptoes, not making too much sound. Arriving at your door was a relief. You opened it, praying that it didn’t make any sound and you let Lucas in first, then you entered and locked it.

Lucas was watching everything around, your posters, your disks, and turntable. “Your room is hella gnarly,” he commented.

“Yeah, thanks,” you nodded.

He took the liberty of sitting on your bed and you sat right beside him. He was still hypnotized by everything surrounding him. You were studying him: his golden skin glowed with the moonlight, his eyes were shining, you dare to think he looked cute. But you knew there was nothing soft about this boy, he was danger and he was in your room.

He caught you looking at him so he smiled and you blushed. He was getting closer to you and you didn’t know what else to do, so you let him. Just centimeters away from kissing you he whispered in a deep voice, “Can I kiss you?” and your lips just moved on their own, “Please.”

His lips crashed on yours with full force. Surprisingly, you were kissing him back with the same want, like you’ve been wanting this your whole life... and maybe you have.

He pushed you down on the mattress, still kissing you desperately, hands everywhere, bodies closer than ever, teeth grasping, nose bumping. You felt one of his hands traveling south, which made you nervous because who knows where would you be ending. Your hands were tangled between his dark locks enjoying the silky feeling of his hair. His hand just kept lingering on your thigh not daring to touch more, maybe waiting for your approval.

He groaned and said, “Gosh, you have an amazing bod,” and he continued kissing you.

“So do you,” you whispered, guiding him to your neck. He nibbled the soft skin right below your jawline, making you moan.

He smiled proudly because he knew the effects he had on you.

He was caressing your thigh, going up, getting closer to your center.

“Oh Lucas...” you moaned right on his lips, he just smirked again.

Suddenly someone knocked on your door. You both froze and he looked at you alarmed, asking you without words what to do. You pointed to down your bed and he quickly rolled and got underneath it.

“Honey? Y/N? Are you home?” It was your mom.

You pretended to have a sleepy voice, “Mom...? Is something wrong?”

“Oh, nothing, just making sure you were there... sleep well, honey.” You heard her footsteps fade away.

A few seconds later, Lucas appeared from under the mattress. “Guess I’ll have to jump after all,” he whispered and you both started laughing, trying to keep it low.

He got up to his feet and while brushing off the dust from his pants he said, “Well, it was fun baby, but gotta motor.”

“Sure, be careful out there,” you said leaning on your elbows.

“Will do,” he assured you. He leaned over to reach your lips and pecked you before jumping out of the window. It was really funny seeing him do what you wondered earlier.

 Everyone at campus was talking about the party and how radical it was. Your friend, who noticed your absence and Lucas’, asked you about it but you chose to keep it a secret between Lucas and you.

Nobody knew how he climbed your window the two following Friday nights. You would wait for your parents to go out or to fall asleep and he would knock on your window for you to let him in.

You two would play some jams on your turntable or just chill around your room, but it always finished the same way: wildly kissing on your bed. Here you were, underneath his muscular bod, his hands everywhere while your mouths couldn’t let go of each other.

He stopped, closed his eyes and pursed his lips as if holding back his impulse. You looked at him confused and asked, “Is something wrong?”

He was hovering over you while looking directly into your eyes now. “Babe, I really don’t know how much I can hold myself,” he sounded desperate. “I hella wanna make you mine,” he confessed in a deeper-than-usual voice.

You bit your lip in response and he hissed.

“I wanna touch you and I want you to touch me,” he said as he crouched again to kiss your neck. His lips were convincing you, but your mind had more power and you didn’t want to become one of his girls yet. But maybe you didn’t have to reach third base... you could just run a little farther than first base.

‘Tender Love’ played on the background while he attacked your neck, his hands ran slowly up your exposed thighs. His palm arrived between your legs and he was massaging your core over your underwear, teasing, making you surrender to his charms. You weren’t complaining, on the contrary, you sighed and whispered, “Lucas…”

“Yeah, babe?” he asked in a teasing tone. He sucked on the tender skin under your ear and marked you.

“Lucas!!!” you gasped in panic. He just started laughing.

“You marked me!” you sat on your bed, touching the spot he sucked because it was stinging.

“So what?” this cocky bitch!

“Why did you do that?!” you whisper-screamed.

“To give you something to remember me,” he winked.

“What if I do the same? You wouldn’t like it” you sassed.

He laid back on your bed, propped up his elbows, and looked at you with a raised eyebrow, like challenging you. “Who said I won´t?”

“I’m assuming since you are the biggest heartbreaker around,” you made a smug face.

“You’re just a chicken,” he was definitely challenging you.

You gasped “I see,” you nodded. You then straddled him, darkness in your eyes, seducing him. He didn’t move a muscle waiting for your next move, but he was looking at you in awe. You leaned forward aiming to his neck and then bit and sucked on his neck, right on his jugular.

You heard him gasp, hiss, and then moan, his hands quickly holding you by the waist. “Oh fuck, baby…”

You looked proudly the little galaxy you left on his neck and then said, “Call me chicken one more time.”

“Zip it, come here,” he pulled you to kiss you again, this time full of lust, desperate to take your clothes off, he sent your shirt flying, leaving you in bra while you pulled his white shirt off too. Your hands ran down his muscular arms as he pulled you closer.

You were convinced to just let it happen when someone knocked on your door. You both stopped and entered in panic mode. He mouthed “What should I do?”

You just eyed to under the mattress. He rolled his eyes, like saying “Here we go again”, but he quickly got under your bed. You just pretended to be asleep and got under the sheets. Whoever it was, opened the door to peek inside and then closed it. Must be your parents who arrived and wanted to let you know. Thank God they always knocked.

“They are gone,” he whispered.

You got out of the sheets and said, “Why does this always happens?”

“Something doesn´t want us to do the wild thing,” he chuckled.

“Maybe it’s not good for me,” you smirked.

“What do you mean?!” he acted hurt while putting on his shirt again.

“I said what I said,” you crossed your arms.

“Is it time to jump out the window?” he asked.

“Probably,” you shrugged.

“Kay then, see you on Monday,” he was walking to the window.

“Okay bye,” you waved at him.

“Wow, no good night kiss or anything?” he acted disappointed again.

You laughed and then walked to him, he pulled you by the waist and then kissed you hard. You two acted as if you were an official thing, but you didn’t even know where you were standing.

“I’ll see you at campus, my sweet thing,” he said in a velvety voice and then opened the window to jump outside.

You looked in the mirror to admire the little mark Lucas gave you. What does that mean? Does it mean he likes you? Or does he want you just for fun? All you know is you’re starting to like him A LOT.

Your friend was waiting for you at the cafeteria to grab some lunch and you were anxious to see Lucas too. You tried to cover the hickey with some makeup, plus you tried to cover it with your hair, but your friend had eagle eyes and saw it from afar.

“What is that?!” She brushed your hair back, exposing your neck.

“Damn you and your telescopic eyes,” you groaned.

“Who did this to you?!” She was so confused and felt betrayed because you haven’t said anything to her.

“I- can explain,” you gave her a fake smile.

“I’m waiting,” she was tapping her foot.

“Okay so... I’ve been seeing Lucas...” you said in an almost imperceptible voice.

“YOU WHAT?!” She screamed, many heads turning to look at you two.

“Keep it down please!” You said through greeted teeth.

“You’ve been boinking with the campus heartthrob and you didn’t tell me?! I feel betrayed!” She was so dramatic.

“First of all, not boinking has happened... yet. And second, I wanted to tell you but I’m just in denial, okay?” you explained.

“What base?” she was questioning you.

“Umm... a little further than first?” You confessed.

“That’s hella putt, what the fuck! You have that guy with an amazing bod on the palm of your hand and you’re telling me you’re only scamming. That’s sad,” she made a smug face.

“Hey, I’m trying to save my heart,” you whined.

“Come on! Don’t tell me you haven’t thought of jumping on that D,” she elbowed you.

“I will not say anything,” you looked away and while doing it, you spotted Lucas talking with his friends. You could clearly see the hickey you made, but unlike you, he was proudly wearing it.

“So what are you gonna do about it?” Your friend brought you back to reality, making you jump.

“Nothing... it’s not like we’re something official,” you shrugged.

 Lucas POV

“Man! You had a wild night?” Mark asked while looking at the tiny galaxy on Lucas neck.

“You could say that,” he nodded.

“Who’s the lucky betty?” asked Hendery.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I tell you,” he smirked.

“Is she popular?” asked Ten.

“Not that much, but she’s a zeek,” he explained.

“They say those are the kinkiest,” Ten wiggled his eyebrows.

“Honestly, I really cannot wait to bone her, she’s really hot.” Lucas threw one of his lopsided smiles. What he didn’t notice is that you were right behind him. His friends looked alarmed and when he looked back, he found you there, looking at him in disbelief.

“Shit,” he murmured before you spat an “I really thought you were different,” and walked away.

 He looked back to his friends who were still in shock, probably because they just found out who the girl was and because of what happened.

“I’m in deep shit, aren’t I?” he asked more to himself, but Mark just said, “Big time, homeboy.”

The guys have never seen him like that because of a girl, that’s when they noticed he was REALLY into her.

“Homie, you better blitz if you wanna keep her,” Xiaojun encouraged him, so that’s what he did.

 Your POV

You couldn’t believe how dumb were you. Of course! That’s the only thing he wanted, he’s the campus cutie, he would never like you like that.

You were walking furiously to your car to just go home and curl yourself and cry the anger away.

 There was nobody home when you arrived, and partly you were glad. You didn’t want to give explanations as to why you were crying.

You felt like the biggest clown of town. How could you be such a space cadet?!

Between your tears of anger, you fell asleep.

 A knocking sound woke you up. You were lost, looking around you. It was past midnight, probably the sound was a branch hitting your window or something. But then you heard it again, emphatically, so you turned on the bed to see Lucas knocking on your closed window. You remembered why you were like that so you turned on the bed, giving him your back.

He kept knocking faster, becoming annoying, but then he punched a little too hard and his fist went through the glass, breaking it. You heard a faint “Oh shit!” and when you looked again, there were pieces of glass everywhere on your floor.

You took a deep breath, closed your eyes trying to align your chakras, and walked to the window to open it.

“Are you kidding? For real, you can’t be a worst bogus,” you rolled your eyes.

He jumped inside your room, finally.

“I’m sorry about that, I’ll fix it,” he apologized.

“You better! And you better be thinking about an excuse to tell my parents as to why my window broke, unless you want me to call the police,” you were not having it.

“Listen, Y/N, we need to talk,” he tried to take your hands, but you crossed them over your chest.

“What’s there to talk, Lucas? I heard everything! You just want to get in my pants, and I will not be part of your list,” you fumed.

“Let me explain, would you listen to me, please?” He was using his soft voice, you knew all his tricks.

“Bogart,” you said in a firm voice.

“Okay, so I will not deny that I’m def crazy to have your amazing bod between my fingers, to enjoy it, to cherish every inch of your skin...”

You interrupted him, “Uh-huh, anything else, besides the obvious?”

“But I really like you, Y/N. I enjoy your company, you’re really different. You know the efforts I’ve been doing to just be with you, to get you to notice me? Why else would I climb a window? Do you think I’m that desperate to just get in your pants? I could do that with any other girl, but I’m still here almost begging for your forgiveness.” He pulled you closer by the waist, making you relax.

“Lucas, I don’t know…” you were already getting soft.

“Come on, you know you like me. I see it in your eyes every time you look at me,” he was holding a smile, but eventually, let it out.

“Don’t get that cocky about it!” you shouted, forgetting your parents must be sleeping.

“Just confess it, I confessed. It’s your turn now,” he pulled you closer and you wrapped your arms around his waist.

“Fine,” you rolled your eyes.

“Say it,” he was smirking!

“Lucas, I like you,” you felt your cheeks getting red.

“That’s it?” he wanted more!

“Wait, no. I REALLY like you. Like, I’m head over heels for you and there’s not a single day I go without thinking about you. You’re everywhere! And I just want to squeeze you and fill you with kisses. But I’m really scared,” you let everything out.

“Why?” he was serious now.

“Because you’re the campus cutie, every girl wants you, and I’m not even that popular around,” you shrugged.

“Who cares about what others think? I want you. I chose you. Screw what other’s think!” he took your face between both of his hands, looking at you directly in the eyes.

“Yeah, but I’m not even that pretty,” you tried to look away.

“Who said that?! You’re the most gorgeous woman I’ve seen. Plus, you’re smart. Anyone would be lucky to have you,” he kissed your forehead.

You stood in silence for a few minutes and then said, “I need to clean your mess.”

“I’ll make it up to you. How about we do lunch and then I take you around?”

“Are you gonna come through the door this time?” you raised an eyebrow.

“What do you mean?” he was confused.

“Are you gonna meet my parents?” the thought made you blush.

“Sure, I’ll pick you up.” So he was being serious.

 You were getting ready in your room when you heard someone knocking at the door. You ran downstairs but your dad had opened the door already.

Lucas was standing outside with some flowers, looking stunning as ever, wearing a black button shirt with some colorful designs, black pants, a black jacket, his hair brushed back with only a few strands hanging on his forehead. He looked hot. The first button of his shirt was undone, exposing his collarbones and a chain adorned his neck.  You almost faint at the sight of him.

“Hello, Sir,” he was being polite.

“Hi! Welcome! Are you here for Y/N?” your dad asked a little too excited.

“Yeah, we´re going to get some food,” he smiled, eyeing you.

“Come in,” your dad opened the door for Lucas to enter.

“Oh, you’re here,” your dad noticed your presence.

“Yeah,” you nodded looking at Lucas, not being able to take your eyes off him.

“Hi,” he said in the tiniest voice you’ve heard him do, it was almost funny. Was he nervous?

“Hey,” you responded. He kissed your cheek and then gave you the flowers.

“For me? Oh my God, you didn’t have to!” You smelled them.

“I’ll be back. Imma place them in a vase,” you walked to the kitchen.

 Your mom was in the kitchen, she already had the vase ready.

“He’s really handsome! Where did he come from?” your mom was in shock.

“I have a class with him,” you simply said.

“I hope everything goes well,” your mom was smirking!!!

“Mom!” you gasped.

 You finally got out of the house and now were in Lucas car.

“That was… stressful,” he confessed.

“I’m sorry,” you laughed.

“It’s okay,” he placed a hand on your exposed thigh. “You look beautiful, by the way.”

“Thanks, you look great yourself,” you lied, he looked stunning, hot, amazing.

“Well, shall we go?” he asked while grabbing the steering wheel.

You just nodded.

 The night ran smoothly. He took you to a simple burger and shakes place, you ate, and then you left to just drive through the night. It was kinda romantic being with him around. Occasionally he would place his hand on your thigh, giving it little caresses. He stole a few kisses on the red lights. You two talked about life and when you noticed, it was midnight already.

“You want to go to my apartment to get some coffee?” he asked out of nowhere.

“Sure,” you shrugged. You were excited to see his place though.

 You got to a building near college, he parked in front and went to open the car door for you. You two walked into the building, then got in the elevator, and he pressed the 5th floor. His apartment was nice, so warm and simple. For being a boy, he was organized, you were impressed.

“Sit down, make yourself at home,” he walked to the kitchen and you sat on a sofa. He went to prepare some coffee and came back to sit across from you.

“So, do you have a curfew?” He asked.

“Not really, my parents don’t mind. Plus, my mom was pretty okay with you,” you confessed.

“Oh? Not kidding?” he was surprised.

“I kid you not,” you assured.

“I guess I’m a step closer,” he was smirking.

“To what?” You laughed.

“I smell coffee, I’ll be right back.” He got to his feet and walked to the kitchen again, ignoring your question completely.

He came back with two cups, handing you one.

You kept talking about different stuff while drinking coffee. When you finished, he took your cup and placed it on a table instead of walking back to the kitchen.

He kneeled in front of you, looking at you directly in the eyes. He placed his hands on your knees and then ran them up your thighs, every nerve on your body activating at his touch. You nodded, letting him know he could proceed.

His hands got under your skirt and he dared to kiss your thigh. You felt his fingers grab your panties and then he pulled them down your legs.

He made a trail of kisses up one of your thighs. “Can I have you?” He whispered.

You were down to let him do anything with you, you were ready to be his.

“Yes, please,” you said in a breathy tone.

He kissed your thighs again to make you open your legs. You almost melted on the sofa, giving him more access. His hand slid between your legs, reaching your heat.

He hissed when the tip of his fingers touched your wetness. “Babe, you’re so wet already.” He pulled you to the edge of the sofa, making your skirt roll up. He had a full view of your glistening pussy and he licked his lips, savoring it. His long fingers teased your folds, brushing your clit and your entrance. He started drawing gentle circles on your bundle of nerves, making you breathe faster by the minute.

Lucas was known for having big hands that could drive girls crazy. You were about to find out if the rumors were true.

He gave one last stroke before sticking in his middle finger slowly. You threw your head back, letting out a moan. Lucas hummed at your reaction.

He then added his index finger making your eyes cross and stealing a gasp from you. “Oh my God...”

He started moving his fingers deep inside you rapidly, the sensation was too much already. Lucas was amazed looking at your reactions.

“Do you like my fingers, pretty girl?” he said in a soft but deep voice.

“Mhm! Mhm!” You could only voice as you nodded desperately.

“God, you’re so wet,” he murmured, “Can you hear it?” He started going faster and you could hear the squelching sound coming from between your legs. You moaned in response, how could this man make you such a mess? You felt your orgasm trying to snap, he was hitting all the right places and that was only with his fingers!

“Lucas, I’m gonna cum,” you said whimpering, but he stopped with a last stroke to your clit with his thumb.

“Not yet, my love,” he whispered and then kissed your knee.

He got to his feet and extended his hand for you to take. “Let’s go to my room.” He pulled you and guided you there. Lucas closed the door behind him and then pulled you closer by the waist.

“I want to tell you something,” he was looking at you with so much tender, you dared to say you were falling in love.

“I really like you,” he confessed again.

“You already told me,” you giggled.

“I know, I’m just reassuring you. But I also want to tell you that I’ve never brought a girl here. Believe it or not.” His confession left you in shock.

“Should I believe you?” you asked playfully.

“If you want, but you can ask around,” he winked.

“No thanks,” you grimaced.

“Where were we? Oh right,” he smirked and then kissed you passionately. You kissed him back. His hands were holding your face, while yours were around his waist. You two fell onto the bed without stopping from kissing. It was almost the same as when you were in your room, but this time it would actually happen.

He groaned and said, “I can’t wait to make you mine.” You hissed in response. He ran his mouth to your neck, kissing and nibbling and sucking occasionally. He took off your shirt and threw it to the floor. His mouth was now kissing your cleavage and over your breast. He reached your navel and then went up, kissing and licking.

He reached to your back and unclasped your bra. Your hands reached for the buttons of his shirt and you opened them one by one with fire in your eyes. When you finished, you ran your hand up his torso and then, to take his shirt off, you caressed from his collarbones, to his shoulders, down his strong arms, until the shirt finally fell on the mattress.

He took your bra off and sighed at the sight of your exposed breasts. He leaned down, taking one of your nipples between his lips while looking in your eyes, then he moved to the other.

You felt him everywhere, his smell was everywhere on the bed, his hands ran absentmindedly on your sides, his hair tickled you, you were intoxicated by him it was overwhelming.

“Ugh! Lucas, please,” you groaned, and he smiled knowing what you wanted.

“What’s wrong, sweet thing?” he asked while kissing your neck again.

“I need you,” you sighed.

“You have me, baby, you have all of me,” he whispered in your ear, giving you goosebumps.

And then he kneeled on the bed to take your skirt off. Now you were all naked in front of him. He eyed you from head to toe and bit his lip. “Damn, you’re so beautiful,” he mumbled. “I’m gonna make you feel so loved.”

He unbuckled his belt and then took off his pants. The strain inside his boxers looked pretty big and you were wondering if he was THAT big.

“Imma fish a condom, be right back,” Lucas said as if nothing, winking at you. He was so used to this, it almost scared you. Opening a drawer, he found what he was looking for and walked back to the bed. He slid his underwear down his enormous thighs, his length springing free.

You were speechless, looking nervously between his legs. He was BIG. Lucas noticed and started laughing.

“Are you okay?” he asked while climbing back to the bed.

“I- yes! Never better,” you took a deep breath.

“Trust me, baby, is gonna fit,” he winked as he opened the tiny square with his teeth. He rolled the thing down his shaft and pulled you by the legs playfully. You screamed and laughed and he did too, he was making the whole experience fun.

He kneeled between your thighs, passed a finger up your slit, making sure you were ready for him. He licked his finger glistening with your arousal. “Mmm… so sweet,” he hummed.

Lucas hovered over you, his arms at each side of your face. He took his dick by the base to have a little help when looking for your entrance with his tip. When he finally found it, he pushed his hips a little, his tip entering you oh so slowly.

The stretch was burning but you just shut your eyes tightly and bit your lip. Lucas didn’t stop until he was completely in you. That was when he groaned loudly, “Fuck! You’re really tight, baby.”

You felt so full by him you barely could speak, but you moaned back to him, “You’re really big.”

He then pulled out slowly, hissing right in your ear, and thrusted you back in.

Now you know why he had every girl’s head spinning: if he was sexy in his normal life, he was sexier in bed. His hips movements were a sin, he was very vocal and very touchy. While thrusting you he kept whispering praises in your ear, he groaned, he moaned, you loved it. “Mmmm… baby, you’re so good to me.” His chains were dangling right on your face, adding some extra spice. You feared it would hit you, so you wrapped your arms around his neck and leaned your head on the crook of his neck.

Lucas did the same and now you were closer, more intimate, skin on skin. One of his hands ran down your side until reaching your leg and he pulled it up and you held it over his lower back. The sensation was double now, as he was reaching deeper into you. “Shit, baby!” you moaned and grabbed his butt cheeks with your hands, guiding him in a way.

“You want it harder?” he asked between pants.

“Mmmm... yes!” you screamed.

Lucas gave a tender kiss to your neck before leaning on his arms, hovering over you again. He stopped for a minute while he was shifting his position. Once he was comfortable, he pushed your legs up, so your knees were almost touching your chest, and rammed into you with such force, you were left without air. You gasped and moaned, and he just smirked.

“Oh my God, Lucas!” You keened. He was hitting all the right spots, your eyes closed on their own. He was going hard and deep, the perfect combination to have your head on the clouds.

“You take me so well, baby. It’s like you were made for me,” he said as his thumb brushed over your swollen clit.

His tip was brushing your sweet spot with every thrust and you were feeling the tight know in your pelvis trying to snap. But you didn’t want to finish yet. “Can I ride you?” You asked as you ran a hand on Lucas cheek.

“Fuck, that’s so sexy,” he muttered. He loved the idea, his eyes shined in anticipation.

Lucas pulled out and sat on the bed, leaning his back on the bedhead. His length was standing proudly, waiting for you, shining with your juices.

Your head was buzzing with the idea of having him at your mercy. He was watching every move you made, which meant this didn’t happen often.

You straddled him, took his dick by the base, looked for your entrance, and once you found it, you sat on it slowly until his shaft disappeared completely between your folds. He was amazed, he didn’t know what to do. His hands were hovering over your thighs but he didn’t know if to touch you or not.

You started moving in circular motions and that’s when Lucas lost it, he threw his head back and moaned in a groggy voice, “Oh, oohh, baby”. He held you by the waist. You loved seeing him like this, it meant he didn’t always have the control.

After a while, you started moving up and down fast. He moved his hands to your ass, guiding you as he liked. He was admiring the way your boobs jumped, you were driving him insane.

“Fuck, I found the perfect girl,” he commented between a gasp. You felt proud.

At a point, he started to meet your hips halfway, but then he took the lead and started fast-fucking you. This man was magical, he could do unimaginable things with those hips. You had to hold from his broad shoulders because you felt like you were going to faint. The only sound in the room was the lewd clapping of your thighs crashing with each other.

“Shit, baby, I’m gonna cum,” you panted as you leaned your forehead on his.

“Me too baby,” he confessed as he wrapped his arms around your torso, you wrapped yours around his neck, getting closer, intimate. His nose was on yours and he took the chance to kiss you.

He kept thrusting you until he felt you were clenching around him. “Mmm... you’re close right?”

You just nodded desperately.

“Come on, baby, cum all over my cock,” he said in a breathy voice, adding up to all the pleasure you were feeling.

You closed your eyes and it hit you. Your orgasm came with such force you were seeing stars behind your lids, you let out a loud moan, and you started to shake. You’ve never had an orgasm like this before.

Lucas held you tightly, praising you in whispers while helping you through your orgasm, “That’s it, baby. Ohhh my God, you’re so good to me. Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he keened on that last phrase.

You felt every pulse of his cum filling the condom. He lost balance and you both crashed on the mattress, him squashing you underneath his huge body. You exploded in tired laughs and he did the same.

“I’m sorry, it was too good I felt I was flying,” he joked.

“Oh shut up,” you pushed him playfully.

“Let me just...” he motioned to get off you and you nodded.

He pulled out of you, taking off the full condom. “Imma trash this, be right back,” he walked to the bathroom. You looked at the clock on his nightstand and it marked 4AM. You were exhausted and you doubted you could walk after these events.

Lucas came back in all his naked glory, shamelessly, he knew he was hot. He jumped on bed and got under the sheets with you.

“So? You gonna cold lamp with me tonight?” he threw his arm around your shoulders and he placed his hand on your boob.

“Only if you want to,” you shrugged, playing hard to get.

“I mean, can you even walk?” he was being cocky.

“Shut up, you can’t do another round with this,” you said grabbing his crotch over the sheets.

He hummed and said, “I wouldn’t recommend doing that. It may wake up and YOU wouldn’t be able to handle it.”

“I’d say I could,” you winked.

“Not even,” he commented with his eyes closed and then groaned, “Ugh! I’m burned out.”

“Same here,” you confessed.

He yawned and said, “Let’s sleep, I’ll take you home in the morning,” he pulled you closer, cuddling you.

His body heat felt so nice on your exposed body and his hands slightly touching you were making you feel butterflies. What would happen now? You did exactly what you say you wouldn’t: jump into his bed. What if he just disappeared now? You were one on his list now… You kept overthinking everything until you fell asleep.

 A bite on your earlobe woke you up, but instead of making you angry, it gave you delicious tickles because even when you were asleep, you knew who it was. “Mmmm… Lucas, let me sleep…” you murmured.

“Come on baby, wake up,” he whispered in your ear with his sleepy voice, which almost made you jump on him again. “Gotta take you home, your parents are gonna kill me.”

“They don’t care, probably they’re happy about it,” you hugged the pillow.

He giggled and said, “Baby… please”

“Ugh, fine!” you complained and finally opened your eyes.

There he was, with his huge, shiny eyes on you. A smile illuminated his face as soon as he saw you awake. “Morning, beautiful. How are you feeling?” He ran a hand down your hair.

“Morning,” you smiled. “Well, everything hurts, and with everything I mean it.” Your legs were sore and you had a slight ache right between your legs. Proof of everything that happened last night.

“What am I gonna do with you? You’re hella cute,” he kissed your cheek.

He was so lovey-dovey with you, you felt special.

“Lucas…” you called him.

“Yeah?” he was right there on your face.

“What’s gonna happen now?” you needed to know now. You wanted to know if your heart was going to break or if it was going to be okay.

“Well, you and I go together, you’re my girl now. Unless you don’t want to,” he was waiting for your response.

“I’m not gonna be your toy girl?” you asked insecure.

“No! I wanna go out with you. I really want you to be my girl,” he looked desperate for you to believe him.

“What about the other girls?”

“Babe, there’s just you and me now. No other girls.” He assured.

“You promise?” you said in a tiny voice.

“I promise. And if I ever fail you, please cut my dick off,” he said laughing.

“Lucas!!! This is serious!!!” you rolled your eyes.

“I’m serious!” he was laughing hard now.

 He was nervous when leaving you at your doorstep, but your parents didn’t mind at all. In fact, they invited him to have breakfast with you guys and he was so embarrassed the whole time.

When he was gonna motor, he left you with the promise of seeing you on Monday at campus and a hard kiss on your lips.

 At campus, he didn’t hesitate in taking your hand the moment he saw you. He embraced you and kissed you in front of everybody, leaving them all in shock, including your friend and his. After all, you both looked cute together and everyone predicted you were the couple of the decade.

[dp-marvel94]

Face to Face- Chapter 30

Summary: When Danny went through the ghost catcher, he expected to be cured of the ghostliness that had haunted him since the accident, not to wake up on the lab floor with his parents saying he’d been overshadowed but everything’s back to normal now. But why does Danny Fenton cry himself to sleep to then dream of flying? Why does Phantom, the ghost who was supposedly possessing Danny remember a life that wasn’t his? Most of all, why do both the human and the ghost feel that something vital is missing, in their very soul? Or: Trying to cure himself of his powers one month after the accident, Danny accidentally splits himself but neither his ghost nor his human half know that that is what they did

First ->Last -> Next

Word Count: 7,787

Also on AO3 and Fanfiction.net

Note: Hey readers! So here we are, a big milestone, chapter 30. Hopefully you'll enjoy it. And as always, feel free to leave your thoughts, comments, and predictions! And thanks for reading!

As Phantom predicted, family time was not fun, even if Jazz had insisted that he and Fenton choose the movies. After a boring and yet somehow tense lunch, the family had sat around the tv, watching the Dannys’ selection. They’d gone with the Star Trek original series films from the 80s, of course starting with the second one because the first one is garbage.

It normally would have been enjoyable, following along with the successes and failures of the characters, making quips, and laughing at the jokes. But no one seemed that engaged. Dad’s comments were unnaturally subdued; he barely even teared up at the end of Wrath of Khan and hardly chuckled at any of the jokes and gags. Jazz seemed to be watching her parents and brother more than the actual tv. And Mom? Mom had a far away look in her eyes, her brow furrowed like she was deep in thought. She looked like she was doing math in her head, meticulously going over everything that went wrong with the ghost catcher and every possible solution.

As for Fenton and Phantom? In all honesty, both barely saw the screen. Phantom struggled to process what he was watching, his mind too busy with thoughts of his conversation with Jazz and with his other self. They’d said they’d think about talking to Mom and he’d asked Fenton to give him today at least to get his courage up to talk to the woman. But still, his guts squirmed at the thought. He tried not to think about it, about all the possible bad ways that talk could end but….he shivered.

Beside him, Fenton’s neutral expression fell on the sad side. He obviously was feeling the same. He leaned towards the ghost, sitting with his legs curled to the side and his head on the ghost’s shoulder. He offered a mental nudge of sympathy. It, with the physical contact, felt nice. Comforting. Like a soothing balm to his core. Or really….it felt like rubbing a sore muscle or a swollen ankle. Or like how he’d sometimes rub his arm and take deep, calming breaths when he was anxious. That always seemed to make him feel better at least temporarily. 

And that was the case now. The touch and mental nudge drew Phantom’s attention back to the tv for a time….until his thoughts drifted again.

The pattern continued as the family watched the movies. They paused after their second movie to heat up some frozen pizzas before returning to watch the third. Phantom and Fenton’s worries kept recirculating. Neither could find it in them to smile, much less laugh. Even at Chekov asking where the nuclear ‘wessels’ were in The Journey Home, the movie they’d affectionately call ‘The One with the Whales.’

Soon enough, their third movie ended and Mom and Dad elected to call it an early night instead of watching another movie. The woman left the living room after saying a listless good night. Dad soon followed her after his more enthusiastic attempt. As for Jazz, the girl pinned both versions of her brother with questioning glances. 

Then she sighed. “Good night Danny.”

She lingered for a moment; clearly she wanted to press about talking to Mom but she didn’t. In some ways, the worried and disappointed gaze was worse than being nagged. Phantom looked down, unable to meet her eyes while Fenton glanced to the side, purposely away from her. With another sigh, Jazz started up the stairs.

“Come on.” Fenton muttered after a second, tapping the ghost to get his attention. 

Phantom looked up, nodding in acknowledgement. Then the pair went to their room to relax before bed.

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

Several hours later, after Fenton had gone to sleep, Phantom found himself again in the dark living room. He sat on the couch with his knees on his chest. The tv was on, the volume inhumanly low. He could still hear it anyway; true to his suspicion, his hearing was in fact supernaturally keen. 

But he wasn’t actually listening to the program. Instead Phantom was thinking about everything. In an act that might have surprised him just days ago, Fenton hadn’t pressed about talking to Mom, though Phantom knew he’d want to. Or rather...the human knew they should talk to the woman, even if both halves of them were scared and wanted to avoid confrontation. Phantom knew they needed to deal with the issue as well but….

The ghost put his head on his knees. “I’m such a coward.” He muttered.

It was ridiculous; he was scared to talk to his own mother. And this wasn’t like before, when they actually told Mom and Dad about what the ghost catcher really did. This time there was no danger of getting shot, or locked in a cage, or experimented on or….

“Stop that.” Phantom chastised himself, feeling old fears rise. He needed to stop; they were past all that. “It’s gonna be fine. It’s fine. She...she loves me, all of me.” He still wasn’t sure how much he believed his own platitudes.

The ghost stayed like that for a while, mentally groaning in annoyance at himself, at his mom, at his situation in general. Again, he was getting so sick of this, of waiting, of feeling helpless, of being afraid.

The sound of footsteps drew his attention and Phantom tensed. His head whipped up, startled gaze falling on the source of the noise. 

“Danno?” A large figure asked

After a moment, the ghost relaxed. “Oh, Dad. It’s you.”

The man took a step forward. “Yep. What are you doing up, kiddo? I figured you’d be in bed.”

“I am.” The ghost sighed. Confusion momentarily crossed the man’s face before Phantom explained. “The other me. He actually is in bed, asleep.”

Dad nodded. Then he raised a brow. “But what about this you?” He ran a hand through his hair. “You haven’t been trying to sleep on the couch, have you? You know you can use the guest room or...we can get you a cot for your room.” He shook his head, muttering. “We haven’t even thought about sleeping arrangements.”

“No need to.” Phantom sighed. “It turns out ghosts can’t sleep.”

The man paused, his gaze fixing on his son. “Really? As in you physically can’t or…?”

The ghost bit his lip. “Like physically can’t. I tried the first few nights after the ghost catcher but….nothing. Can’t fall asleep.”

Dad frowned. “Oh son… that sounds rough.”

“It’s fine.” Phantom shrugged, trying to look casual. “It’s not like I get tired.” He then raised a brow. “What are you doing up?”

The man glanced in the kitchen. “Midnight snack.”

“Oh…Don’t let me keep you then.” The ghost looked away, core clinching. Another thing he couldn’t enjoy.

Dad paused, stepping towards the couch instead of towards the kitchen.

Phantom wrinkled his brow. “What are you doing?”

“Sitting with you, if that’s alright.” The ghost nodded in agreement and the man sat down. The man sighed. “What’s the matter, Danny?”

Phantom blinked. “What?”

“You’ve got that look on your face, like something’s bothering you.” Dad said kindly. “What’s eating at ya?”

The ghost looked away again, his shoulders rising. “Uh just….stuff.”

“Is it the ghost catcher?” The man asked. “You don’t need to worry. I promise I’ll get it fixed up.”

Phantom shook his head. “No that’s...Well...I am… I am upset about that. But...that’s not...that’s not really...” He trailed off, unsure what to say or really...if he should say anything at all.

“Danny?” Dad questioned, nudging the boy to continue.

The ghost swallowed, biting his lip. Everyone damn one seemed to want him to talk about this, Jazz, his other self, now even Dad. But how could he? Maybe….He took a deep breath, pinching his eyes shut. “I’m...I’m angry at Mom.”

There was a pause. “Why?” The man asked, sounding genuinely confused.

Phantom opened his eyes. “It’s the stuff...the stuff she’s said about ghosts.”

“Oh.” Dad’s mouth rounded into an O, realization dawning.

The ghost nodded. “Yeah. She said...well you know. You were there.” Dad blushed, something like guilt flickering in his gaze before Phantom continued. “Jazz said I should talk to Mom about it.”

 That got the man’s attention as he turned more fully to the ghost. “Your sister’s right. You should.”

Phantom huffed. “I figured you’d say that.”

Dad tilted his head. “You don’t sound happy about that. I’m guessing you don’t want to.”

The ghost shook his head.

“Why?”

Phantom paled. His insides churned as nervousness rose. His throat closed up, the words choking him. He couldn’t say it. He didn’t want to say it but…. Something tickled in the back of his mind. A sleepy hum of encouragement. He could...he could do this. Yeah. He could. He took a breath. “I’m scared.”

Dad asked softly. “Why are you scared?”

Phantom shifted anxiously. He couldn’t look up. He couldn’t meet his father’s eyes. How could he say it? How could he explain to his dad that he was afraid that Mom was not sorry about what she said? How could...how could he tell one parent that he was scared his other parent didn’t love him? That barely even a week ago he’d been terrified, he’s been sure that his parents would hate him, that they could never love a monster, a ghost like him.

“She won’t...she won’t listen to me.” Phantom managed to squeak out.

“Of course she will.” Dad tried to reassure.

The ghost boy shook his head. “No, She won’t...she won’t even look at me, much less actually listen.”

“Danny boy. That’s not true.” Dad reached forward, placing a hand on the ghost’s shoulder “Whatever it is, if it’s important to you, she’ll listen. Your mom loves you.”

The ghost boy flinched, pulling away at the stinging statement. He wanted to believe that was true, so badly but he feared-

“Are you upset with me, son?” Dad suddenly asked

Phantom’s glaze flickered up, his eyes falling on the adult’s deep frown, the hurt look on his face. “No. Why would you think that?”

“I had a part in all this too. We haven’t really been making this easier for you. Fighting with your mom hasn’t helped and…” The man bit his lip. “I haven’t forgotten that stuff I said before I knew…” He motioned up and down Phantom’s body.

The ghost looked down at himself. Oh yeah. He flinched, the memories of the names he was called flashed in his mind. A gun pointed at his head. ‘You think this is funny, messing with my boy?’

Phantom swallowed. “You didn’t know back then and...you’ve been trying so hard. I know you don’t think that stuff anymore.”

Dad remained still, his cheeks reddened with shame as he considered the statement. “You’re right, I don’t.” He took a breath. “And I’m sure your mom doesn’t either. She’s been trying too.”

The ghost narrowed his eyes slightly, trying not to scoff. “Really?”

The man straightened. “I guess you’re not seeing that.” His brow wrinkled with sadness. “I need to get her to talk to you.”

Phantom’s eyes popped open. “No, don’t.” He waved his hands in alarm. This… this was not what he wanted, for Mom to learn that he had a problem with her from his Dad.

Dad’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Son, you two clearly need to talk.”

The ghost put a hand on his head. “I know that but-”

The adult cut him off. “Danny, listen.” It was said compassionately with just enough authority for ghost Danny’s mouth to snap shut. “Things have gotten better between us, because you’ve talked to me. Like you are right now. You told me what was bothering you…. and you can tell me anything else you need to.” The man raised a brow, giving the boy a probing look.

“Yeah, I can. Yeah.” Phantom swallowed. Well, that opened a can of worms. “I can but-”

“But...you should give your mom the same courtesy. She can’t read your mind, son. She doesn’t know what you’re thinking. So tell her, so she can start fixing things.”

The ghost’s shoulders rose as he looped his arms around his knees. His gaze fixed down, avoiding his father. The words rang in his head anyway, running into similar pleas that Jazz had given him earlier. He...he knew what he had to do. He’d known for hours but now...he had no recourse, no excuse. He was still scared, so damn scared. But….he took a breath, stealing his courage as he looked up. “Okay. I’ll...I’ll talk to her, in the morning.”

“You will?” Dad questioned.

“Yes.” The ghost nodded. “But….don’t tell Mom about what I told you.”

The man gave him a serious look. “Danny.”

“Please.” The boy looked at him pleadingly. “I want to….no...I need to tell her myself….and I will but….” He swallowed. “This is between me and her.” Jazz’s words repeated in his head. “Me and Mom are the only ones who can fix this.”

Dad frowned, a serious contemplative look on his face. Finally he sighed. “Alright. I won’t say anything but…” He pointed. “If she asks me or you don’t go through with it, I will talk to her. Your mother and I don’t keep secrets from each other.”

“Okay.” Phantom conceded, his shoulders falling. 

The man’s face softened. “Don’t be sad, kiddo.” He gave the ghost boy a comforting squeeze on the shoulder. “Everything’s gonna be okay.”

The ghost boy tried to return the gesture with a smile. “I hope so.”

“It will. You’ll see.” Dad yawned. “But now, I need to go back to bed.” He stood up and started turning back towards the master bedroom.

“What about your snack?” Phantom asked.

The man turned around. “Oh right.” A smile grew on his face, his eyes brightening at the thought of food. Then his gaze flickered back to the ghost, who was still frowning with his knees to his chest. Dad’s face fell.

“What?” The ghost raised a brow.

"You know, normally I'd give you a glass of warm milk and some fudge and get ya to bed."

Phantom frowned. "Well there's no point in doing that, 'cause-"

"I know. But…" The man interrupted. He leaned down. "Normally, I'd give you a big ole hug too. I can still do that. If you want."

The boy's expression softened. "Of course I want that." 

Lowering his legs, he turned to the side and reached forward as his father wrapped strong arms around him. The ghost melted into the hug, enjoying the warmth. It felt nice to be so comforted, even as his core still churned with sadness and worry.

"Everything's going to be alright, son."

Phantom said nothing, just holding on tighter. Like he was still a little kid and his dad could shield him from the world. But eventually, the man pulled away before grabbing a quick snack and going back to bed. The ghost stayed on the couch, alone with just his thoughts and the distant song of the portal.

Phantom had a lot to think about, much to consider. He had a decision to make. Or did he? He’d said he would talk to Mom in the morning and he would keep his word even if the thought made his hands shake and his insides squirm. He and Fenton would talk to her together. Or…

His core clinched, mind going over a dozen hypothetical scenarios. What he, Phantom, would say. What Fenton would say. How Mom would react. And every extreme of that reaction- from cold and cruel rejection to insincere, placating apology to weeping, sobbing regret. He turned the matter around in his head. Mom’s reaction to Fenton compared to his ghost half… those were different. And her reaction would be different, depending on which Danny said what. But the root was...Mom seemed to have a problem with, to not trust Phantom. And so…

The ghost bit his lip. He needed to talk to his human self. But even so...Phantom had a sinking feeling. He might just have to proceed alone.

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

That morning, Fenton woke up minutes before his alarm to the feeling of cold hands gently shaking him.

“Phantom?” He blinked through blurry eyes.

“Sorry to wake you up so early.” The ghost bit his lip. “But I need to talk to you before school.”

The human blinked again, suddenly feeling more awake. “Okay. Yeah.” He sat up. “Just let me pee first.”

“Of course.” The ghost floated back to give his counterpart space to stand.

Fenton left, did his business, and then returned to his room.  He sat back down on the bed, giving the ghost his attention.

“So last night...I told Dad I’d talk to Mom.” Phantom started.

“You did?” The human raised a brow, surprised. Then he paused. “Wait… yeah. I saw some of that.” He remembered sitting on the couch with his knees to his chest and Dad beside him, the words far away and indistinct but the worry almost palpable.

“Yeah.” Phantom nodded. “You kinda pushed me to actually talk to Dad.”

“I do remember that.” Fenton agreed. Slowly, the words from that late night conversation shifted into focus. “You told him that we’re angry at Mom and scared she won’t listen.”

“I did.” The ghost agreed. “And I promised I’d talk to Mom in the morning.”

“And it’s morning.” The human sighed, rubbing his face. Then he looked up. “But...I have school. Could we wait until after? I’m sure Dad would understand and…” He trailed off, talking in his counterpart’s serious expression. There was something in his eyes, in the twitch of his frown that said it. Or more likely...one half of his mind knew the other half. “You think it should just be you. Only you should talk to her.”

The ghost wrung his hands. “Yeah well….I’m the half she seems to have a problem with and...she’ll act differently if you’re there. She might be...nicer if her nice normal human son is physically there.” He frowned, bitterness ringing out in the words. “But we need her to be honest. We...I need to know what she really thinks of me, just me, just Phantom.”

“And if she is actually sorry, if she’ll really apologize to a ghost.” Fenton continued for him.

“Yeah.” Phantom agreed. “It’s just...I know we’re a team.” He held his hands in front of his placatingly. “And this isn’t me pushing you away but….”

“Danny.” The human said softly, cutting him off. “I get it. This isn’t a rift between us but…” He sighed. “I have the feeling if we were merged...the whole Danny would have this conversation in ghost form. ‘Cause you are right. Mom treats Fenton and Phantom differently.”

“Yeah.” The ghost shifted nervously. “It really sucks, but she does. So...you do see why it should just be me?”

Fenton nodded in confirmation. He understood Phantom’s thinking all too well. And unfortunately, he agreed for the most part. Although...he blew out a breath. “Still….I hate the idea of not being there with you in person.”

“But you’ll just be a mental nudge away.” Phantom reminded him. “So it’s not like you’re actually leaving me alone.”

That was true, the human silently mused. It’s not like he and his ghost half could actually be rid of each other. They were one mind, one soul even if stuck as two bodies. And so, even if physically apart... Fenton half-smiled. “I guess you could say I’ll be there in spirit.”

Phantom’s brow wrinkled for a moment as he frowned at his counterpart who pinned him with a knowing look. The ghost looked down at himself and then back to the human. The corner of his smile twitched up. “Was that a pun?” Fenton’s eyes brightened and he opened his mouth to reply. But the ghost shook his head, continuing before he could. “Of course it was. And yes, I guess I could say that.” Slowly, his lips turned up in a fond smile. “That actually does make me feel a lot better although….” His expression turned thoughtful. “Should I wait until you’re at lunch to talk to Mom? In case, it gets emotional or...I don’t know...I need more of your attention.”

The human frowned, considering the question. “Yeah, that… that might be a good idea.” He didn’t like the possibility of spacing out or having an outburst in class. “I’ll tell Sam and Tucker what’s up, in case I get weird and….we’ve got a free period right after lunch on Mondays so if things go long…”

“We’ll be set.” Phantom finished for him.

Fenton nodded and then stood. He stepped forward, taking the ghost’s hand. “It's gonna go fine. You’ve got this.”

“We’ve got this.” Phantom corrected, looking down.

“You’re the one doing the heavy lifting.” The human squeezed his hand, clinched in Phantom’s. “And like I said before, you’re so brave.”

The ghost blushed. “Fenton.”

“Phantom.” The other boy returned teasingly. “But seriously, I’m proud of you. I’m proud of us.”

“Yeah?” Phantom raised a brow.

“Yeah.” Fenton nodded.

The ghost smiled. “Alright.” He squeezed Fenton’s hand before pulling away. “Now you can stop being so sappy.”

The human raised a brow. “Come on. You have just as much a capacity to be sappy as I do.”

“Oh I never said I didn’t.” This other half teased. “But that's enough for now. I’ve gotta psych myself up to be disgustingly honest and emotional in front of Mom.”

“You’ve got this Danny. You got this. It’s gonna to be great. You’re gonna crush that conversation, knock it right out of the water.” Fenton suddenly started, earnestly with just a hint of teasing. This earned a confused and slightly skeptical look from the ghost. The human stopped. “What? You said you had to psych yourself up.”

Understanding flashed across the ghost’s face. He snorted and then rolled his eyes. “Still a dork.”

“Oh, that’s not even a question. A lot of things can change,” There was a knowing weight, a gravity to the statement. But then the human waved casually. “But that’s not one of them.”

“Yeah. It’s not.” The ghost agreed.

With that, Phantom released his counterpart and the human started getting ready for school. They didn’t talk anymore about the upcoming conversation with Mom but the topic wasn’t far from Fenton’s mind, even as he chatted with Jazz and Phantom over breakfast and the girl drove him to school. Jazz of course asked him about it and he replied with reassurances that Phantom would talk to Mom today. And yes, the human Danny trusted his ghost half to talk to the woman alone, or as alone as one half of a human-ghost hybrid with lingering metaphysical connections between their two halves could be.

And that was the thing. Fenton would have to trust himself, trust Phantom. And what’s more...he had to keep hoping that Mom would be receptive. He’d keep hoping that this would be the first step in mending their strained relationship….and not the nail in his coffin.

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

True to what he said, Phantom spent the whole morning psyching himself up for the impending conversation with Mom. He paced around his bedroom, muttering to himself. “I’ve got this. It’s gonna be fine, right? Right, yeah. Of course. We’re fine. It’s fine.” He sucked in a breath. “You can do this, Fenton. You can do this.” For once, he wasn’t talking to his human half nor was there any guilt in the habitual action. He had always had a habit of calling himself by his last name if he needed to berate himself or give himself a pep talk. “We can..I can do this. I can do this. I’m gonna do this. I’m-”

Something tickled in the back of his mind, a small nudge from his other self conveying that it was time. Phantom’s stomach dropped as he glanced at the clock. Was it lunch time already? He paled. “No. I’m...I’m not ready.”

A mental pock of encouragement came. Yes, you are. Fenton said, even without words. 

“Yeah I’m… ” The ghost took another breath. “We decided. I’m doing this. I guess...I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

Distantly, he felt Fenton agree. With no more hesitation, the ghost floated out of the room. His stance tensed as he proceeded down the hallway and steps. In moments, he crossed the living room and stopped in front of the door to the lab. He shook his hands, trying to dislodge the nerves. “Alright, Phantom. You’ve got this.”

At once a sense of deja vu hit him. A little over a week ago, floating behind his other self and watching him say those words and more distantly….being the one standing in front of the door and preparing for a potentially disastrous showdown. The ghost shook his head. This was nothing compared to that.

Deliberately, Phantom straightened. He grabbed the door knob. Luckily it turned and he pulled the door open. The ghost swallowed. “Mom? Dad?”

“Down here.” Mom called from her seat at one of the tables.

Phantom floated forward, eyes surveying the entire lab. Mom’s table with the blueprints and other paper strone around her. The station where they’d been working on the ghost catcher, visibly cleaned since yesterday. A benchtop with Mom’s microscope, flasks and test tubes of ectoplasm, a centrifuge and table top incubators. A pile of wires and other scrap in the corner and...his core clenched….a box containing the broken and burnt remains of the ghost catcher.

The ghost boy ripped his eyes away, gaze turning to the open portal with its mesmerizing green light and the soft hum of its song. For just a moment, the sound captured his attention, the melody quickening the pulsing of his core even as it relaxed him.

“What is it?” Mom asked, though she sounded mildly distracted.

Phantom shook his head, startled by the sudden interruption. He floated forward, trying to not look embarrassed or nervous but...the anxiety was back. His eyes flitted around the room again. “Where’s Dad?” He questioned.

Mom didn’t look up from the paper she was writing on. “We needed specialty parts after...what happened yesterday. Your father went to pick them up from our supplier in Elmerton. He should be back in an hour or so.”

“Okay.” The ghost boy nodded, taking in the statement. Well, that definitely meant he’d get to talk to Mom alone.

Even so, he silently shifted in the air, biting his lip. His gaze flickered from the portal to his mother and back several times. How to start? Where to even start? Should he sit down in the chair beside her? Or that stool, a little farther away? Or maybe ask to go upstairs for this conversation? Or-

“Danny, do you need something?” The woman asked, again interrupting his thoughts.

Phantom turned to look at Mom as she finally looked at him. His frown deepened taking her in. The woman had her hood pulled up, her goggles over her eyes. The red lenses made her look bug-eyed and intimidating. Subconsciously, the ghost floated back. The impulse to turn around and avoid this conversation passed through but he pushed it down. “Ummm...it’s….I…” He swallowed. “I need to..to talk to you.”

The woman frowned, glancing down at her papers. “Can it wait, sweetie? I’m in the middle of something.”

The ghost bit his lip, fighting the urge to say yes, it could wait, and leave. Instead he touched down on the floor. “No...it...it can’t.”

Mom sighed, putting down her pen. She pushed her goggles up onto her forehead. “Alright. What do you need to talk to me about?”

“Uhh….just stuff...things….I’ve been thinking about stuff and wondering...and I talked to Fenton...and Jazz. And we...well….we’re...I’m...uhh...I don’t...It’s not…”

“Danny.” The woman cut him off. “Whatever it is, just tell me.”

Phantom shifted nervously, foot to foot. Tentatively, he eyed the chair on the other side of the table. After a moment’s hesitation, he sat down. “Okay, just promise you’ll listen and….tell me the truth.”

Mom’s mouth twitched down. “Danny.” She repeated his name, pointedly.

The ghost shook his head. “Please. Promise me you’ll...you’ll be honest with me….and you’ll listen.”

Slowly, the woman’s face softened. “I promise.” She said, like she might just mean it. “Now what is this about sweetie?”

Phantom took a moment, bracing himself. For a fraction of a moment, he considered where to start poking at the issue. Then he decided. The ghost swallowed, looking down. “Why...why don’t you trust me?”

There was breath. “Is this about you being grounded?” Mom said, surprisingly gently. “Because we already talked about this. You broke our trust by sneaking out and-”

“No. It’s not…” Phantom cut her off. “This isn’t about being grounded. It’s…” He looked up. “You trust...you trust Fenton but you don’t trust me.” He emphasized the word. “Why don’t you trust me?”

Mom’s brow furrowed in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

Annoyance flared but the ghost pushed it down; maybe he was actually explaining this badly. “You trust Fenton, the human me. But you don’t...you don’t trust Phantom. This me.” He motioned up and down his body. “Why do you trust Fenton but not me?”

The woman shook her head. “I trust both of you equally.”

Another flicker of annoyance passed through him. “That’s not true. You treat me and Fenton differently.” He shook his head. “I’d...I’d maybe get it, if you didn’t trust either of us. After the lying and hiding stuff from you and Dad. And after sneaking out. I mean...I can admit, we should have told you guys but…” His eyes widened, pleadingly. “I’m trying to be good! And we’ve told you, we’re sorry for lying to you about the accident and for sneaking out. And I’m sorry for scaring you and Dad with my powers and for running off. We’re...I’m trying so damn hard but…” He tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice, he really did. But it leaked out anyway. “You still treat me and Fenton differently. And you still don’t trust me!”

“That isn’t true.” Mom repeated, shaking her head in denial. “And I don’t treat you and your human half differently.”

“Really? You don’t?” Phantom challenged. “Then why won’t you touch me?”

“What does that-” The woman started, paling slightly.

But the ghost interrupted. “You hesitate, every time. Like I’m going to hurt you or something. But you don’t with Fenton.”

“That’s not-” 

“Don’t say that it’s not true, ‘cause it is.” Phantom pointed. “And you won’t look at me either.”

Mom’s eyes widened, her face paling more. But she didn’t argue. After a moment, her gaze flickered down.

“And you’re doing it now!” The ghost gripped his hair. “You keep avoiding me like...like it’s painful to look at me. Like it hurts to even be in the same room.”

“That’s not-” The woman repeated.

“Stop saying it’s not true!” Phantom’s volume rose and he felt his eyes flash brighter. “Half the time, you act like I’m a dangerous wild animal.” He shouted, anger flaring with her constant denials. “Like I’m gonna turn into a monster...or just some mindless ghost.” He spread his arms in exacerbation, just a fraction of the words he’d thought coming out. “And the other half….you act like I’m already dead and gone.”

“You are dead.” Mom hissed heatedly, the words impacting Phantom like a punch to the gut. “You’re dead, Danny.” The woman finally looked up, her teeth gritted as she clearly struggled to control her emotions. “And it’s my fault.” She said the last part so quietly; Phantom’s barely heard the words but ignored them.

“You know, I’m not actually dead.” Phantom balled his fists. “I’m still part human. I’m different but you don’t have to act like you’ve lost me.”

“So what, I’m not allowed to grieve now?” Mom glared.

“No.., you’re not!” The ghost growled. “I know things are different now but you can’t keep acting like there’s something wrong with me! Because there’s not!” He glared, pointing at her.  “I heard you, that night after Fenton and I tried to merge, and when you and Dad had that fight. I know what you said.” Again, his anger swelled, the bitter memories replaying in his mind.  “And you can’t keep treating me like this!” He bared his teeth in almost a snarl, the shadow of his pulse pounding in his head. “Like I’m unnatural. Like I’m lesser.” His voice rose into an echoing shout, like two voices speaking as one. “Like I’m not supposed to be a ghost!”

“You’re not supposed to be a ghost!” Mom yelled in anger, her own eyes burning. “None of this was supposed to happen! My son wasn’t supposed to die at fourteen in the portal in our god damn basement! It wasn’t supposed to be my invention! It wasn’t supposed to be my fault!” She snarled. “I’m not supposed to be having this conversation with the ghost of my son! You’re supposed to be alive! Normal! At school, worrying about homework and girls and friends! You’re supposed to be human!”

Just like that, the air evaporated out of Phantom’s lungs as the words crashed into him like an icy wave. His anger dissolved and sorrow welled up to take its place. “I was right.” He whispered as tears started collecting in his eyes. “You’re not sorry.”

The woman’s mouth snapped shut, the wrath snuffed out. “What?”

His hands started shaking. “We...we hoped maybe you could still love Phantom.”

Horror dawned on the adult’s face. She reached forward without hesitation. “Danny sweetie.”

In a blink, he jumped out of the chair and flickered backwards. “But...you’ll never really love a ghost.”

Mom stood, her eyes widening in shock, distress, guilt. “No, I do-”

He backed away, panic rising. “We...we can’t be something we’re not. We can’t be completely human for you.” 

Their head whipped side to side. Escape. They needed to escape now. They needed to fly. Something green flickered in the corner of their eye. Their head turned and eyes widened. The portal…. The call, the song was so loud, so inviting. The ghost wanted to follow and human instincts for once agreed. There, they could escape. 

Their gaze flickered away, again falling on the woman. Time seemed to slow. Mom’s eyes widened, horrified realization dawning. She stepped forward, arms outstretched. But they were faster. In a heartbeat, legs morphed into a ghostly tail and they dived.

“Danny! Stop! I’m sorry. I-”

Neon green light engulfed them, cutting off the sound of the mother’s cries.

[skinks]

hi!!! what are your favourite movies? like actually good ones but also any trashy comfort movies? is IT (2017) one of them?

Hello!! IT (2017) IS ABSOLUTELY ONE OF THEM oh man, thank you for this, I love talking about movies!!!! This is possibly the most difficult question you could have asked me. Apologies for how absolutely off the rails this got, I just... love movies so much lmao

I’ve said this before, but opening night of IT ch1 was the best cinema experience I’ve ever had, I’m so glad I got to see it with a fully packed audience who were all laughing and screaming together the whole way through. I’m a huge fan of... everything ch1 was doing, the 80s nostalgia, the summer-coming-of-age themes, the solid ghost train funhouse JOY of the Pennywise performance and scares, the washed-out cinematography, the tiny background details to make everything that much more eerie, the kids’ ACTING?!

Like, a lot of the time I find child actors can be really awkward and stilted to watch, but I remember leaving the cinema really impressed by JDG and Sophia Lillis in particular. I liked that they were all allowed to be little shitheads with potty mouths, it felt like a callback to 80s movies like The Lost Boys or Stand By Me. The whole thing worked to make me really care about what happened to the kids (even if I do still have issues with how they handled Mike. I understand even ch1 had limitations with juggling so many characters, but still). I saw it another 2 times in the cinema and have rewatched it at least, I dunno, 7-10 more times since then?

Add to all of that the retroactive CANON R+E baby pining subplot? I just love it, as if that wasn’t obvious by now given my Whole Blog. It’s a really special movie to me!

Anyway!! Ok, the main handful of movies I rewatch all the fucking time are:

Back to the Future, The Lost Boys, Pride and Prejudice (2005), Jaws, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, The Breakfast Club, Ocean’s 11, POTC 1, The Dark Knight, Inception, Die Hard, LOTR trilogy, Snatch, The Nice Guys, Logan Lucky, Mad Max Fury Road, Clueless, 10 Things I Hate About You, Billy Elliot, Dirty Dancing, Tomb Raider (2018)...

Those are the easily consumable ones that I’ve seen so many times I don’t really have to concentrate or think about them, but I really love them and unfortunately often KEEP rewatching them instead of new stuff. It would take too long to go into why I love all these movies so much because I could write the same amount as I already did for ITCH1, and everyone already knows why those movies are good, so, lol.

I think I’m gonna have to subdivide and categorise this whole post because there are too many separate criteria for... goOD MOVIES, AUUHH 😩

Okay so first off, HORROR MOVIES? I’m especially in love with Re-Animator (1985) and its sequel Bride of Re-Animator, they’re such good examples of camp and batshit 80s practical effects, and also EXTREMELY funny. I’m actually just gonna post my list of my fave horror movies that I do actually keep on my phone at all times lmao. These are in no particular order:

Wholeheartedly recommend every one of these. I’ve never been so scared in my life as I was watching Hereditary in the cinema, hoo boy. Mother! by Aronofsky is one of the strangest experiences I’ve ever had (and I actually saw it on the same day I saw IT ch1 for the first time!! That was a fun day)

Psycho (1960) and The Fly from 1986 should also be on there but I couldn’t fit them in the screenshot.

I’m a HUGE fan of a ton of martial arts movies too, like Kung Fu Hustle, Shaolin Soccer, Ip Man, The Raid movies, John Wick 3 is my fave of the trilogy, Drive from 1997 with Mark Dacascos is incredible, SPL 2, Ong-Bak, Operation Condor, Project A, Iron Monkey, and Zatoichi (2003) are some favourites.

My favourite Tarantino is Reservoir Dogs, fave Coen brothers are Raising Arizona, The Ballad of Buster Scruggs and O Brother Where Art Thou. Love some old-timey colour correction and weird offbeat dialogue. I also love Goodfellas!!! And Donnie Brasco! And The Firm, I’m so easy for any good crime/law/gangster/heist procedural like that, especially if they’re from the 80s or 90s in a super dated way.

Fave Disney movie is Tarzan, favourite Ghibli movies are Spirited Away and Lupin III. I remember watching Spirited Away during a thunderstorm one time and it being.... god! Transcendent! Favourite Pixar movie is The Incredibles (the first one. ALSO the documentary “The Pixar Story” is great and well worth a watch, it’s very comforting for some reason) and my favourite Dreamworks movies are HTTYD1 and Spirit: Stallion of the Cimmaron.

I tend to watch more anime movies than tv shows, so stuff like Akira, The Girl Who Leapt Through Time, Summer Wars, Journey to Agartha, and my ultimate fave anime is Sword of the Stranger (2008). The climactic fight in that movie is fucking stunning and should be counted in “bests fights” lists right alongside anything live action

Also if we’re talking animated movies another hearty favourite is Rango, and a Belgian stop-motion (which at one time I considered my favourite movie ever) called Panique Au Village (2009) which is one of the funniest movies ever made imo.

As for TRASHY movies, I’m not sure if that’s the right word for how I feel about these ones but.. dumb/silly/slightly guilty pleasure movies? Ones that I feel need some kind of justification lmfao

Troy - something u must know about me is that I’m a giant slut for the Assassin’s Creed franchise, so if a movie smashes historical and mythological nonsense together with fun costumes and sword fights, I’m gonna enjoy myself. Even if they should have made Achilles and Patroclus gay. Other movies in this vein are King Arthur: Legend of the Sword, and Immortals (2011)

Gods of Egypt - I know all the reasons this movie is whitewashed bullshit. But it was already bullshit with giant Anubis mecha and giant snakes and bad acting and ridiculous CGI and frankly I had a blast at the cinema (my friend who I forced to come with me did not have a blast. Sorry H***)

Avatar - yes, the one with the big blue people. This movie gets a lot of flack nowadays but I really do enjoy it just for the spectacle. The full CGI world technology was so new at the time and I love to wallow in the visuals and daydream about riding a cool dragon around in the jungle

George of the Jungle - I’ll defend this movie to the death ok this movie shaped me as a person, it is fucking hilarious and Brendan Fraser is the himbo to end all himbos. It’s perfect. The song Dela is perfect. I still want to write a reddie AU about it. It’s one of the best movies ever made and I’m not being ironic

Set It Up - I KNOW this is a dumb Netflix original romcom but consider this; it was funny and the leads had great chemistry. I got butterflies. I once watched it and then literally immediately set it back to the start so I could watch it again

The Brady Bunch Movie - when people talk about great satires or parodies you will see them bring up the same movies over and over again, Blazing Saddles, This Is Spinal Tap etc, but they never talk about The Brady Bunch Movie from 1995 for some reason, which they should. It is one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen and every time i watch it somehow it gets funnier

Some more general favourites that I do still love but don’t rewatch as often, and don’t wanna go into more detail about are:

Moon (2009), Crna Mačka Beli Mačor, The Sixth Sense, Parasite, The Handmaiden, Tremors, Wet Hot American Summer, Tucker and Dale vs Evil, What We Do In The Shadows, Hunt For the Wilderpeople, The Secret of My Success (I love kitschy 80s movies, is that obvious by now), The Green Mile, When Harry Met Sally, Rear Window, The Odd Couple, Breaking Away, Pan’s Labyrinth, To Kill A Mockingbird, The Eagle, Gladiator, The Artist, The Extraordinary Adventures of Adèle Blanc-Sec, Call Me By Your Name, Master and Commander, Pacific Rim, Kiss Kiss Bang Bang, Legend (1985), Emma. (2020), Flash Gordon, Trolljegeren, Hross í Oss, Beverly Hills Cop, Coming to America, WarGames, District 9, Ajeossi (2010), Tracks (2013), Sightseers, Mud (2012), Pitch Black, Four Lions, Shaun of the Dead, Starship Troopers, The Truman Show, Withnail & I....... Jesus Christ ok I need to stop

NOTABLE EXTREME FAVOURITES that I didn’t include in the regular rewatch list because they’re too heavy/not as well known/require more attention.:

Thin Red Line (1998), Badlands (1973) both dir. Terrence Malick

Malick’s brand of dreamy impressionistic filmmaking is something I find really appealing, both of these movies are gorgeous and unusual and poignant and, in the case of Thin Red Line at least, have a lot of things to say about a lot of rough subjects. I don’t totally understand all those things sometimes, but a theme with a lot of my favourite movies is that I’ll be more likely to love something long-term if it raises unanswered questions, or is surreal/esoteric etc. Plus the cinematography is incredible, and I wish there was a way to get Jim Caviezel’s narration from The Thin Red Line as an audiobook because it’s very poetic and soothing.

Let the Bullets Fly (2010) dir. Jiang Wen

This movie is WILD, it’s so much fun. It’s sprawling and intricate and epic and smart and really fucking funny, it! Has! Everything! A gang of very tolerant outlaws!! Jiang Wen’s beautiful broad chest!!! Chow Yun Fat absolutely DECIMATING the scenery, and the two of them outsmarting each other in order to gain control of a small Chinese town!!! Plus it’s long, but it packs so much nonsense and intrigue that it goes by really fast. Wow what a flick

A Field in England (2013) dir. Ben Wheatley

I know I included this in my horror list but aaaaahhh ahhhh Wheatley is one of my favourite directors (he also made Sightseers, and is directing the Tomb Raider sequel which makes me absolutely rabid.) This is a surreal black-and-white psychological horror black comedy set in the English Civil War about some deserters who may or may not meet the Devil in a field. People eat mushrooms. It’s bonkers. I love being blasted in the face with imagery that I don’t understand

Mandy (2018) dir. Panos Cosmatos

Speaking of being blasted in the face!!!!! This movie... I saw it in the cinema and I can’t even begin to explain the experience, but I’ll try. My favourite review site described it like this:

“...somewhere between a prog album cover come to life and a metal album cover come to life, and subscribes to both genre's artistic tendency towards maximalism: what it ends up being is basically naught else but two glorious hours of being pounded by bold colors...”

So, prog and metal are my two favourite genres of music. This movie opens with the quote “When I die, bury me deep, lay two speakers at my feet, put some headphones on my head and rock and roll me when I'm dead.” and then a King Crimson song, it is SURREAL to the nth degree, it’s violent and bizarre and Nic Cage forges a giant silver axe to destroy demonic bikers and there is a CHAINSAW DUEL. A galaxy swirls above a quarry. Multiple animated horror nightmare sequences. At one point a man says “you exude a cosmic darkness” and releases a live tiger. At another point Cage says, in a digitally deepened voice, “The psychotic drowns where the mystic swims. You’re drowning. I’m swimming.” and I haven’t stopped thinking about it for two years

Paper Moon (1973) dir. Peter Bogdanovich

Really fantastic movie set in the Great Depression (and also in black & white) about a conman and a little kid who may or may not be his daughter, running cons across the Midwest. It’s beautifully shot, so sharp and sweet and the progression of their dynamic is really well done because they’re played by an IRL father and daughter. Tatum O’Neal was NINE YEARS OLD and she’s so amazing in this movie she’s actually the youngest person to win a competitive category Oscar. I keep trying to get people to watch this fbdjfjdbf it’s wonderful

Alpha (2018) dir. Albert Hughes

THIS MOVIE IS A VICTIM OF BAD MARKETING ok, the trailers made it look like some twee crappy sentimental Boy And His Dog Adventure, plus it had voiceovers in American-accented english? That’s a total disservice to one of the coolest things about this film; the fact that they got a linguist to construct an entirely original Neolithic language that all the characters speak for the entire runtime. And yes, it is eventually a Boy And His Wolf adventure, but it’s COOL and fairly brutal, and it has some really incredible cinematography. The landscapes are so strange and barren and alien, you really get the sense that this is an ancient world we no longer have any connection to. And it’s also about like, the birth of dog & human companionship sooo it’s perfect.

Free Solo (2018) dir. Elizabeth Chai Vasarhelyi, Jimmy Chin

The Free Climbing Documentary. I loved climbing as a kid, I love outdoor sports, and I love movies that elicit a physical reaction in me, whether that’s horny, scared, real laughter, overwhelming shivers, or in the case of Free Solo - HORRIBLE SWEATING TENSION. Like, I knew about Alex Honnold beforehand because of this adventure film festival I go to every year and I followed him on IG so obviously I knew he lived, but the actual climb itself was torture. My hands sweat every time I see it!! It’s incredible, such a cool look into generally what the human body can do, and more specifically, why Honnold’s psychology and life means he’s so well suited to free soloing. It’s such an exercise in getting to know an individual and get invested in them, before they attempt something very potentially fatal.

Brokeback Mountain (2005) dir. Ang Lee

I can’t even talk about this. When I was around 13 I snuck downstairs to watch this on TV at 11pm in secret, and my life was forever changed. I wouldn’t be who I am if I hadn’t seen Brokeback at the age I did. I seriously can’t talk about this or I’ll write an even longer essay than this already is

God’s Own Country (2017) dir. Francis Lee

The antidote to Brokeback Mountain, I’m so glad I managed to see this one in the cinema too. It makes me cry every time, as someone who’s spent years working on a cold British farm with sheep it was very realistic, which is expected since Lee grew up on a farm in Yorkshire. I love that this movie isn’t really about being closeted, but about being so emotionally repressed and self-loathing that the main character finds it so hard to accept love. Or that he deserves to be loved. The cinnamontographies.... lordt... but also the intimacy and sex scenes are fucking searing wow who hasn’t seen this movie by now. 10 stars. 20 stars!!!

Tomboy (2011) dir. Céline Sciamma

I saw this years ago but I’ve never forgotten it, it cut so deep. It’s from the director of Portrait of a Lady on Fire and it’s about a gnc kid struggling with gender and misogyny and homophobia in a really raw, scrappy way, it reminded me very much of my own... childhood... ahh the central performance is amazing for such a young age. I haven’t seen Portrait yet but I feel like if you went nuts for that, you should definitely check this out, it’s lovely.

Donnie Darko (2001) dir. Richard Kelly

EVERY TIME I WATCH THIS MOVIE I UNDERSTAND LESS AND LESS and that’s what I love so much about it. I love surreal movies, I love time-fuckery and stuff about altered perception etc etc and Donnie Darko scratches all my itches. I wish I could find a way to figure out an IT AU for it, because I know it would work! Somehow! Plus it’s got the subdued 80s nostalgia and I found it at an age when I was really starting to explore movies and music and the soundtrack FUCKS.

Offside (2006) dir. Jafar Panahi

I wish more people knew about this!!! It’s an Iranian film about a disparate group of women and girls who are football fans and want to watch Iran’s qualifying match for the World Cup, but women aren’t allowed into the stadium, so they all get thrown into the Stadium Jail together? They don’t know each other beforehand, but it’s about their changing relationships with each other and the guards and just, their defiance alongside hearing the match from the outside and WOW it’s so lively. Great dialogue and very funny, and such a different kind of story from anything you usually see from Hollywood.

The Fall (2006) dir. Tarsem Singh

This movie... I guess it’s the ideal. This is the platonic ideal of a film for me, it has fantasy, magical realism, glorious visuals, amazing score and costumes and production design and a really interesting, heartbreaking relationship at the core of it. I don’t know why so many of my favourite films feature incredibly raw performances by child actors but this is another one, Catinca Untaru barely knew any English and improvised so much because of that, and it’s fascinating to watch! Also the dynamic with Lee Pace is one of my favourites, where a kid forms a friendship with a guardian figure who isn’t their parent, but the guardian grows to really care for them by the end. It’s like Paper Moon in that sense. What is there to even say about this movie, it’s pure magic joy tempered and countered by genuine gutwrenching emotional conflict in the real world, it’s also ABOUT old moviemaking, in a way, and it’s stunning to look at!

Mad Max Fury Road (2015) dir. George Miller

I know I included this in my “most rewatched” section but it deserves its own thing. We all know why this movie is fucking incredible. I remember clutching my armrests in the cinema and feeling like my skeleton was being blasted back into the seat behind me and tbh that is the high I’m constantly chasing when I go to see any movie. What a fucking gift this film is

Théo et Hugo dans le Même Bateau (2016) dir. Olivier Ducastel, Jacques Martineau

I only found this movie last year and it became an instant favourite. Initially I was just curious because I’d never seen a movie with unsimulated sex before, but it’s so much more than the 18 minute gay sex club orgy it opens with. No, not more than, AS WELL AS. The orgy is important because this movie is so candid and frank about sex and HIV treatment in the modern day, it was eye-opening. Another thing that really got me is that I’d never seen a real-time film before. It’s literally an hour and a half in the lives of these two men, their intense connection and conversation and conflict in the middle of the night in Paris, with some really nice night photography and just!!! Wow!!! AMAZING CHEMISTRY between the actors. This is such a gem if you’re comfortable with explicit sexual content.

Ok. This is already over 3k but film is obviously one of my ridiculous passions and I can and do talk about it for hours. I’ve been reading magazines about it for years, listening to podcasts and reading review blogs and recently, watching video essays on YouTube because the whole process is so interesting to me and I want to learn more!!

Recently I’ve been thinking a lot about the concept of valuing form over narrative. The idea that story can often come second to the deeper physical experience and emotional reaction that’s created by using ALL the elements of filmmaking and not just The Story, y’know? Whether that’s editing, shot composition, colour, the sound mix, the actors, how it should all be used to heighten the emotional state the script wants you to feel. And so, I think for a few years now this approach has been influencing the types of films I really, really love.

I think I love surreality and mind-bending magical realism in films specifically because the filmmakers have to use all those different tools to convey things that can be way too metaphysical for just... a script? I’m always chasing that physical response; if a movie can make me stop thinking “I wonder what it was like to set up that shot” and instead overwhelm that suspension of disbelief, if I can be terrified or woozy or crying for whatever reason, that’s what I’m looking for. That’s why I watch so many fuckin movies, and why I’ll always remember nights like seeing IT (2017) for giving me another favourite.

Thank you again for this question, I didn’t mean to go so overboard. Also there’s no way to do a readmore on tumblr mobile so apologies to anyone’s dashboard 😬

[fletchphoenix]

Families Are Overrated

Chapter 2 of the Varigo Coffee Shop AU! 

Wow, an update today and yesterday! I’m absolutely loving this story and writing it, so I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I do. Unfortunately, I start school soon so the schedule will most likely have to change (as much as I don’t want it to.)

Word Count - 3,705 

TW - Panic Attacks, Strong Language

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Although it was only Wednesday, Thursday felt as though it was decades away. Up until now, the days had dragged on and on and on. In all honesty, Varian thought the universe itself was extending the length of each day just to taunt him. They all just seemed to merge together no matter what he did to take up his time, it never seemed to speed up. “Why can’t Thursday just hurry up…?” The raven haired boy thought as he picked up his backpack and headed out of the chemistry labs, tucking a strand of hair that had fallen into his face behind his ear and descending the stairs towards the town library.

  Corona was a rather large town, with most streets littered with stores, houses and parks. Oddly, it was almost always unbelievably sunny, the aforementioned rays of the blinding light burning his eyes as he remained on course to the building, causing him to be suddenly very interested in the floor. The town was rather peaceful and beautiful too in terms of crime and layout - though, he did live in the less beautiful, more run-down faction of the city called Old Corona, and ANY town would be better than Old Corona when it comes to crime rates or general beauty. 

  After around 10 minutes of walking, he found himself outside of the doors he knew so well - the doors to the Coronan Library. His mom used to joke, always calling it the “Eternal Library” because of its tremendous size. Before her and his dad split up. He missed her a lot. He let out a sigh at the unwanted memory and stepped forward. Instantly after he’d pushed open the heavy, oak doors, a tiny boy ran and wrapped his arms around his waist with a wide smile on his face. Varian let out a chuckle and leant down to ruffle his hair, prying the younger boy off him and heading to a 3 seating spruce table in the middle of the room. Various books, pens and stationary were littered about the surface with the wood underneath barely even visible at most points. Yong eagerly ran to take his seat, jittering in excitement. He could swear that kid was just a bundle of energy - somehow always able to run around or be doing something. 

  “Took you long enough. I was starting to think you bailed.” A voice rang out as he took his place at the table. He didn’t even have to look at her to know who it was, a distinct hair clip with a star on it made it very clear to him. Nuru looked at him, a smirk on her face and her eyebrow raised with her NASA shirt being covered by a violet bomber jacket. Her jeans were cuffed and little scribbles that were drawn in pen were dotted here and there. Sneakers that were the same colour as her jacket only just fell short of her ankle, black socks with stars peeking out of them only just visible from the top. He dramatically sighed and feigned annoyance, a mock expression of the emotion on his face while he flopped back into his chair.

  “Yeah, yeah. I’m sorry Nuru. I got sidetracked - that’s all. So, how are you today, Yong?” He questioned, finally taking time to look over at the boy sitting beside him. Covering him was a crimson hoodie - judging by the way it dwarfed him in size, it was his older brother’s that was given to him as a hand me down or some sort of gift. It was kind of cute - a ghost of a smile appearing on his face. On his feet were some worn, gold and red converse that were laced ridiculously tight, also a hand-me-down. A childish smile was on his face as he looked up at Varian.

  “I’m fine! We learnt about astronomy today and calculating percentage composition! We got assigned some questions though and I didn’t understand the equation…” He mumbled the last part and leant against the table, before pulling 2 notebooks out of his bag. “Is it okay if you two can help me with my homework though? Just so I can understand it better and stuff. You explain it really well.” 

  “Sure we can, buddy.” Varian replied and shuffled closer to him. “So the equation for percentage mass is the mass of the desired elements divided by the gram formula mass, and then multiply it by 100%, but you know that, right?” He paused, waiting for a nod of confirmation which he promptly got before continuing with his explanation. “So the question is to calculate the percentage composition of ammonium nitrate fertilizer. Right? So, the first step is to write out the formula,” he paused once again to allow Yong to follow his instructions, the younger boy giving a thumbs up when he was done. “Great. So then you need to work out the gram formula mass which is…?” 

  Yong stared at the paper quietly, leaning forward and holding his pen before chewing the lid.  “So it’s 14 add 4 add 14 add 48, so that’s gonna be...80?” he questioned, looking over at Varian and his face lighting up when he gave a nod of approval. 

  “So then,” Varian added, “You need to do 14 divided by 2 multiplied by 100 to get the percentage of Nitrogen, then 4 divided by 80 and multiplied by 100 to get the percentage of hydrogen and finally 48 divided by 80 and multiplied by 100 to get the percentage of oxygen!” Varian concluded, smiling as Yong handed over his finished work. The older boy glanced over it, double checking before handing the worksheet back with a satisfied hum. “All correct! Well done, bud.”

  At that news, Yong gave a little cheer, moving over to Nuru and showing off his work, Varian sitting back as he watched the heartwarming scene from afar. He seemed so proud of himself, and he had every right to be. Still, after his little adrenaline rush, Nuru sat him down and listened attentively as Yong talked extensively about his astronomy homework. Satisfied that his job was done, Varian gazed out of the window. Hm. Still abnormally sunny - as per usual.

  A slight breeze made its way through the library as the door creaked open, prompting Varian to divert his attention towards it. He regretted it immediately. Standing in the doorway was none other than Hugo. He was wearing a green hoodie with jeans...god, he looked so good in green. Heat started to build in his face as he moved to look away from the older boy, his hands fidgeting in his lap and the tips of his ears turning red the longer he looked at him. He silently prayed Nuru and Yong hadn’t noticed...but the universe had other plans in its mission to screw him over.

  “Varian, are you okay? Your face is red. Are you too warm? Do you want me to ask the librarian to turn the fan on?” inquired Yong, already standing and beginning to walk away. Varian groaned and sunk back further into his chair, covering his still red face with his hands. Oh my god, why did he have to be here? He grimaced as the sound of Nuru’s laughter gradually got louder. “What.” he questioned, not daring to look up and betray just how flustered he was. This, however, only caused her to laugh even harder. 

    “Nothing! I just can’t believe Varian Ruddiger, my best friend, is simping for Hugo Atkinson aka one of the biggest playboys in human existence! It’s simply unbelievable!” Nuru cackled, Varian swiftly lunging and covering her mouth with his hand. 

  “Shut the fuck up, Nuru! If he even hears you!-” he flushed red as his eyes met Hugo’s from across the room. A smirk tugged at the corners of the blonde’s lips and he shot the younger boy a wink, bursting out into uncontrollable laughter as the other’s face went even redder (as if that was even possible) and he frantically tried to compose himself. Varian hurriedly stood up, shoving books into his bag and pushing the blue streak of hair out of his line of sight.

  “Oh would you look at the time! Eugene will be here to pick me up any minute now!” he declared rather loudly. The librarian looked up from her position behind the counter and shushed him, her eyes rolling as he repeatedly apologised. Cooling air hit his face as he dashed out of the library, passing Hugo at a speed he himself didn’t know he could reach. It was the relief he desperately needed - the flush of his face calming down and slowly retreating. Why was he so awkward? A blaring horn bought him back to reality, courtesy of his unofficial sister’s boyfriend. Involuntarily, he winced and stumbled back, bringing his hands up to cover his ears.

  “Hey Var! C’mon!” Eugene called out, a wide smile on his face as he waved him over. With a groan, Varian headed over and opened the door. He slumped into the passenger’s seat, fingers moving to roll down the window and allow the breeze to hit his face as Eugene drove. Varian silently observed the houses and stores as they sped past, steadily being swapped out with parks and fields leading up to his sister’s house.

  It always went like this ever since his mom left. On Wednesdays, Eugene would pick him up from his tutoring job and he’d go over to the couple’s house for dinner, before Eugene would drive him back home to Old Corona. Routine. A snug routine that no one disagreed with. They sat in a pleasant silence before the brunette decided to speak up.

  “So uh..how was your day, kiddo?” he implored, taking a second to glance over at the smaller boy as he stared out of the car window, charcoal locks blowing wildly in the wind, with the blue streaks still clearly defined. The response was a nod and faint hum as the boy kept his focus on the landscape beside them. The brunette bit his lip and relented on the questions. Clearly he wasn’t fine then.

  The ivory car pulled in outside of the small, ivy-walled cottage, both boys exiting the car after it had been parked. “There we go, Maximus. Good job.” Eugene mumbled under his breath, giving the hood a gentle tap before striding towards the wooden door and opening it. “Blondie! We’re here!” he exclaimed as the blonde-haired woman bounded out into the hallway, sprinting outside to pull the younger boy into a rib-crushing hug as her fiancé watched on in amusement. 

  “Varian! Hey!” she beamed as she took his wrist in a vice-like grip and pulled him along into the cottage. “It’s so good to see you! Cass, Lance and the girls are in the living room if you want to go see them!” Huh. Cass? That was new. Last thing he heard was that she was travelling the world after finishing her course at university. He put on the widest smile he could and slid open the sitting room’s door.

  Cassandra, Lance, Keira and Catalina all looked up from where they were sitting and waved. Varian made his way over to Cass, settling down beside her and allowing her to pull him into a side hug. “Hey co lady-in-waiting.” she chuckled and ruffled his hair. “How are you? How long has it been- what, 4 years?” 

  “Yep. 4 years.” Lance chimed in from his perch on the matching lilac sofa, a wide grin on his face as Cass tossed a pillow at him. Much to her dismay, he caught it and threw it right back at them. It hit Cass square in the face, her letting out a gasp of surprise and falling back against the plush cushions dotted all over the couch. The black haired boy let out a snort of laughter, covering his mouth and trying to suppress the small giggles that kept leaving his mouth. “I’m-oh fuck hold on,” he barely managed to pass the words through his lips, still in a fit of laughter. He took a deep breath. In. Hold. Out. In. Hold. Out. “That’s better. I’m fine. Studying chemistry at Corona University now.” he replied with a grin and leant against her, letting her warmth engulf him once again. 

  “No fuckin’ way. You’re a uni kid now?” she sat bolt upright, turning to look at him with wide eyes before resuming her original position. “Shit..it's been way too long since I’ve been here.” she let out a breathy laugh and looked down.

  “DINNER’S READY!” Rapunzel’s voice cried out from the kitchen, summoning everyone to sit down at the table. The meal of choice was a simple spaghetti, served on a purple porcelain plate. After settling everyone down, Rapunzel distributed the food. It was all going well, in all honesty. Everyone was talking about various topics: Eugene and Lance’s promotions, Kiera and Catalina joining high school soon, where Cass was travelling..that was until that all important question was asked - the one Varian dreaded the most.

  “So Varian,” Catalina asked innocently, looking up at him. “Have you got a girlfriend yet?”

  Varian froze, spoon raised to his mouth before dropping it back onto the plate. “I-I’m sorry, what?” he stuttered out, an awkward, forced smile taking over his face. Oh god, why were they asking this?

  “Yeah V, do you have a girlfriend?” Kiera repeated her sister’s question, her interest seemingly peaked by his response.

  Oh. Oh. Of course this question would come up eventually. Fuck. He’d never had a girlfriend in his life! The only girl who he’d ever had a crush on was Cassandra! What did he even like about girls? He tried to think back on all of his previous crushes..Flynn Rider, Cassandra, Vex (for about 2 minutes), and finally...Hugo.

   His mind drifted to Hugo much to his displeasure. To the wink at the library, the extensive texting sessions, the way his eyes lit up when he talked about something he was passionate about...his sharp and defined features..his lips. He wondered how they’d taste..probably like cherries. Oh, he’d do anything to kiss Hugo-wait what? His face, for the umpteenth time flushed bright red as he narrowed his eyes to stare at the table cloth. “Um-no. No I don’t-” he began to protest before the others interrupted him again.

  “Aw, really? Our lovable Varian Ruddiger hasn’t captured the hearts of all the ladies he’s ever laid eyes on? I don’t believe it!” Cass exclaimed, taking a sip of the lemonade Rapunzel had made earlier. “Beautiful lemonade, by the way Raps. Good stuff.”

  “Yeah, especially when his brother-in-law is the infamous playboy Flynn Rider!” Lance pointed out with a vast smile on his face. “And Cass is right, this lemonade is the best I’ve ever had, Rapunzel.”

  “Look guys, can we just-stop talking about my relationship status?” Varian pleaded, his hands resting on the table and his breathing quickening. Oh god, was the room getting smaller? He felt like it was getting smaller. Tears welled up in his eyes as the others continued their teasing at his expense. 

“Just can’t believe it!-”

“I know a lovely girl! She’s Leona’s daughter!-”

“Varian?”

Too hot. It was too hot. No air. Why couldn’t he breathe? Was he dying? What was going on? Why was he shaking so much? He struggled and his chest heaved as he tried to take in more air. It’s too much. Please stop. 

“What happened to Vex? Don’t you like her anymore?-” 

Please stop.

“Buddy, are you okay?”

Stop.

“Varian?”

“STOP!” he screamed out, standing up fast and knocking his chair to the floor. Wet trails ran down his face as he harshly wiped his eyes and headed to the door. “Thanks for dinner, it was great.” he growled and shoved past the mass of worried people, throwing open the front door and falling to his knees outside. He gasped for breath, the oxygen being his saviour as it finally felt like he was getting enough. He was free. In. Hold. Out. In. Hold. Out. His body jolted as a hand cautiously rested on his shoulder, squeezing it softly before the mystery comforter sat by him.

  “Rapunzel I…”

  “Don’t. I get it. Just get yourself together, okay? In for 7, hold for 7, out for 7. Just like I taught you.” she commented with a reassuring smile, holding out her arms for him to fall into. He closed his eyes in the embrace, his hands holding on tight to the fabric of her dress to ground himself. Her perfume had the scent of lavender, calming his nerves and helping him relax further. It reminded him of the old house before the accident. Before his mom left. The good times.

  “Varian..I’m sorry. We shouldn’t have pushed you so far. It isn’t fair.” she finally admitted as her hand weaved through his hair in a motherly kind of way. “I’m so sorry we didn’t stop sooner. But just know that-well, you can always tell us if you aren’t comfortable. We’ll respect your choices no matter what.” 

  Varian smiled to himself at what his sister said. She always wanted what was best for him - especially after his dad went into a coma. “Thank you so much.” he muttered against her shoulder. “You have..no idea what this means to me.” he sighed, content in the moment before moving back. “I should go home, it’s gonna be really awkward for me to go back.”

  Rapunzel looked as though she’d been slapped in the face. “I-are you sure? I doubt the others mind, and I made cupcakes to celebrate you and Cass coming over.”

  “Thanks Rapunzel but I just want to go home-” he began to say. A silhouette appeared in the doorway, leaning against it on her upper arm. Cass looked down at the scene, a sympathetic smile on her face as the wind blew her hair about and she held out her hand. “Relax Raps. I’ll take him. I was just leaving anyway. The little twerp just needs to let me know the directions. Oh, and he’ll need this.” she remarked, throwing a helmet towards Varian who, with fumbling hands, caught it. But-why would he need a-

  His question was answered as Cass walked away, swinging her leg over the motorbike and sitting down. The bike was..wow. Black was the base coat for the vehicle - red streaks ran across the main body intermingling with blue streaks. He was taken aback, swinging his leg over after placing the helmet on his head. His arms wrapped around Cass’ waist as she started to drive.

  It was exhilarating. Wind whistled past his ears, houses merging together at the speed they were moving and the fields became mere blurs in the background. Eyes widened with wonder as he held on, cheering and filled with adrenaline. Cass’ face lit up at the sound of Varian’s childlike enjoyment and wonder as he marvelled at his surroundings. She brought the bike to a stop, smoothing down her hair and helping Varian off. As he trudged up his driveway, she kept her eyes on him. 

  “Hey V?” she said, him turning around almost immediately to meet her eyes. “Uh..you should come meet my girlfriend sometime. Her name’s Irene. You’d love her.” she commented, pulling her helmet on as Varian frantically nodded. She silently waved and rode off into the night, leaving Varian on the doorstep of his admittedly shabby house.

  Varian stood in silence for a second before a grin split onto his face. A weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Cass..of course. He knew she’d understand. Thank god he wasn’t alone. Cass knew..she knew what he was dealing with. He turned his head to the direction that her bike went. He’d thank her later, somehow. 

  After a few seconds, he strode into the house and made a left to the kitchen, a pearl-white sheet of paper placed onto the counter wedged under the fruit bowl sat in plain sight. Varian read it aloud before throwing it into the trash. “Brilliant. Dad’s working late.” he rolled his eyes, moving towards the cupboard and pouring out some cat food into a bowl. Ruddiger, the fat bastard, came sauntering in, rubbing himself against the boy’s leg before starting to eat. He laughed and started to head upstairs.

  He sat on his bed and gazed at the time on his phone. 7:32pm. Hugo should be online. He couldn’t help the stupid smile that cursed his face at the mere thought of the boy in question, pressing his name under messages.

Varian : Still on for 1 tomorrow?

  He sent the text, still high on the adrenaline rush from the motorbike. Tomorrow was weighing on his mind as he sat up, hurrying to his closet to pick out his clothes for their date. Or at least that’s what Hugo called it and Varian desperately hoped that wasn’t a joke. Extensive searching left him with deciding upon a cyan sweater over a white dress shirt, along with some jeans and his black vans. The infamous chime went off, with Varian essentially jumping over the frame of his bed to read it.

Hugo : Wouldn’t miss it for the world, sweetie pie <3

Hugo : You looked good in the library by the way, short stuff ;)

   Varian rolled his eyes at Hugo’s comment. What else had he expected, honestly. He snuck a glance at his mirror, only to see the same lovestruck grin as every other night before that. God, he loved this boy so much. It wasn’t fair how one person could have this effect on him. How everything felt better when they were talking. Hell, even coffee tasted better when he was drinking it with Hugo. 

Varian : Better than you, beanpole

Hugo : Ouch. Really know how to wound my pride, dontcha?

Hugo: Anyway, I’ve gotta study tonight so I’ll see you tomorrow. Same table.

Varian :  Eye eye, Captain. See you tomorrow.

  Setting his phone aside, Varian watched as Ruddiger crawled to sit on the bed beside him, cuddling under his arm and purring. “Ruddiger, I think i’m in love.” the boy whispered to his companion. 

“I think I’m in love with Hugo Atkinson.”

[gloomshrike]

Au Ra Aria

Taknark stepped off of the shuttle onto the stone landing, stretching his arms out as he looked down the long queue outside Kugane customs. He sighed, throwing the strap on his duffel over his shoulder and lighting a cigarette as he joined the line. He patted his coat several times, making sure the letter was still safe in the inside pocket.

“Sir, you can’t smoke here.”

Taknark looked over at the hingan attendant, who pointed at the ground while maintaining a stern glare in his direction.

“It’s outside.” Taknark said, as thin puffs of smoke escaped his lungs with the protest.

“It doesn’t matter. There’s no smoking on the landing.” The attendant snapped her fingers. 

Taknark shrugged, and flicked the cherry to the ground. He closed his hand around the field-stripped butt and let it roll into his coat sleeve before opening his hand with a flourish to show the attendant it had disappeared. He wiggled his fingers mockingly and gave a dry “Ta-da.” The attendant rolled her eyes and left.

Taknark patted his coat again, and felt the letter safe and secure. He sighed and scratched the back of his neck as he waited in the queue. When he finally got to the booth, he handed his papers over. 

“John Johnson?”

Taknark looked through the smudged glass at the inquisitive man in the booth.

“Midlander. On my dad’s side.”

“Right.”

The man stamped Taknark’s papers and passed them back through the slot. He placed them in his coat pocket, and gave it another pat, finding the letter safe and secure. The attendant opened the gate out of the landing, and ‘John Johnson’ passed through with a lazy wave. 

Taknark walked out into Kugane and beelined it for a nearby bench. He placed his duffel on the ground, sat down, and looked around, peeling his sharp eyes for any trace of a No Smoking sign. Absent of one, he let the half-smoked cigarette roll back out of his sleeve and set it alight. He patted his coat pocket again for the letter, finding it safe and secure.

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Taknark walked out of the Kugane night into the bar. The door closed behind him, and the walls cut the noise and bustle of Kogane Dori to nothingness. He glanced through the window to the markets as the people moved silently past. The air inside was still and, for a change, so was Taknark’s mind. The bar was empty save for a few patrons one drink past ‘one more couldn’t hurt’. He made his way to the bar, motioning to the bartender without taking a seat. The bartender walked over, polishing a glass as he went.

“Do you do bottle service?” Taknark asked.

The bartender nodded. “Only sake.”

“How about fish?”

The bartender stopped polishing for just a moment, then resumed. “Sure. Fifth room on the left.”

Taknark nodded, leaving a gil on the counter as he left. He turned down the VIP hall, counting the doors on the left in his head, until the giggling and jovialities behind the paper walls faded by the silent fifth door. He slid it open, and sat on the floor was an old lalafell wearing a hingan robe. On the floor next to him was a conical straw hat and an opened bottle of whiskey, the first quarter of which had already rosied the cheeks of the old-timer. The lalafell looked up, and a surprised expression waxed across his handlebar mustache.

“Taknark!”

Taknark put a finger to his lips in a shushing motion as he slid the door closed behind him. “It’s John, actually. Don’t remember me, Cage?”

Cage hiccuped, pouring a glass of whiskey for Taknark and one more for himself. “Of course. John. How could I not remember? You look just like John.” The old lala couldn’t help but let out a few amused snorts as he slid the drink over.

Taknark took his seat across from Cage and reached into his jacket, producing the letter. He passed it to the old lala, took a sip of the scotch, and winced. “Tastes like Doma’s been free longer than this has aged.”

Cage unfolded the letter, downed the rest of his drink, and shrugged. “Cop salary. What’re ya gonna do.” He looked down at the letter, and in a barely-legible scrawl, read:

I’m all outta fish.

Cage sighed. “Well at least he’s talkin’ to somebody.”

Taknark raised an eyebrow. “He hasn’t been in contact?”

Cage shook his head, and poured another glass. “Nope. The man’s a ghost. Dunno why you came straight here, though. I can think of someone you should’ve asked first.”

Taknark sighed. “Yeah, but I’d rather leave that option for when all the others fail.”

“You and Vyl have a falling out?”

Taknark shook his head. “Not as such. But Vyl’s not the kinda guy you notify when he has something you want.”

Cage let out a chuckle as he took another sip of his drink. “True enough. Look, I don’t have anything concrete, but in your shoes I’d check the Steppe.”

“The Steppe?”

Cage nodded. “He’s half-xaela. Taken as a kid by the empire and trained as a conscript in Othard. He used to talk about getting homesick sometimes.”

“Shit.” Taknark leaned back, resting on his palms. “That’s quite a trip.”

Cage nodded in reply, topping off Taknark’s drink. “One for the road?”

“Might as well. Road just got a lot longer.”

Cage lifted his glass. “To fish.”

Taknark lifted his in turn. “To the long road.”

The glasses clinked and the pair took a drink. Taknark pulled out his cigarette packet, bumping one out and lighting it, letting the smoke wash over the dry taste of cheap whiskey.

“You can’t smoke in here, John.”

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The next few days passed with an agonizing dawdle. It was an unremarkable week of constant rain over the Ruby Sea, gales of wind over the plains of Othard, and a series of innkeepers unenthused with the soaking wet highlander showing up on their doorstep. By the last night of his trip, Taknark found himself convinced that in addition to hosting his quarry, the Steppe may be the only place left in Doma he was allowed to smoke.

At last, the morning after another fatigued, sleepless night, he found himself in the Azim Steppe. He walked through the bazaar in reunion, doing whatever one could call window shopping along a series of tents and yurts. He asked a few of the locals where to find information, and after some pointing and awkward charades with his Questir hosts, he was finally directed to a covered yurt with two xaela standing watch outside. They stood at least 80 ilms tall, with grim faces, large black horns, and armor adorned in the bones of Steppe tigers they’d likely killed themselves. Taknark scratched the back of his head and approached the yurt, expecting no shortage of difficulty getting in.

To his surprise, the warriors left their spears upright, and each placed a hand on the entrance curtain. “Am I expected?” Taknark asked. The guards answered with only a stare, their grim faces unmoving. Taknark shrugged and entered the tent.

It was dark, with only small sunrays being let through gaps in the tent’s construction. An ornate rug covered the floor, upon which sat an elderly xaela, with wrinkled, green skin and the enamel fading from his black horns. He sat in front of a circular tray with an overturned cup in the middle of it. The tent was hazed over with the smoke from the curved pipe the xaela puffed on, looking up at Taknark.

“Gods be good.” Taknark muttered, producing a cigarette from his coat and lighting it. He took a long drag, and looked down at the elderly man before him. “The trademasters told me this is where to go for information.”

The elder took another puff from his pipe. “Liar.” He said, with the ragged voice one would expect from an aging smoker. 

“Excuse me?” Taknark replied, bewildered.

“The trademasters are Qestir. They tell nothing, to anyone. They believe to speak is to lie, and you’ve barged into my tent to testify on their creed’s behalf.” The old man let out a chuckle.

Taknark sighed. “Semantics. I was directed here. Can you help me or not?”

“Maybe. Maybe not.I read a tapestry I cannot change. How could I? How could you? We are but tiny stitchings in that selfsame weave. Help may not be the right word. Are you sure I cannot interest you in semantics?” The old xaela let out another raspy giggle.

“Not today.” Taknark replied, exhaling another cloud of smoke. “I’m looking for someone.”

With a quick motion, the elder snatched up the cup, covered it and shook it, and let a handful of dried bones fall onto the tray.

“Ohhh. A beloved child.” The elder gave a whimsical whistle. “Both Father and Mother for an Au Ra. A true rarity.”

Taknark’s eyes widened. “So you know him?”

The elder sighed. “No, but the bones do. The weave does. Nhaama knows her son.”

Taknark sighed. “You’re not a broker, you’re a fortune teller.”

The elder narrowed his eyes at the bones. “No lies here.”

“No truths, either. Just riddles and magic tricks. I shouldn’t have come here.” Taknark turned to leave the tent.

“You did not choose to come in here. It was the will of Nhaama. Or perhaps, the Will of Karash.”

Taknark stopped and turned around. “You’re a Qerel, aren’t you? Isn’t the Will of Karash a boon of bloodlust for your tribe?”

“Ohohoho, you’re awfully knowledgeable.” The elder remarked with a grin.

“I’m well-traveled.”

The elder picked up the bones and rattled them lazily in the cup as he took another puff from his pipe. “Not exactly. The Chaghan are those who lose themselves to the Will of Karash. They slaughter indiscriminately, and lose themselves to hate.”

Taknark took another drag. “And why would the Will of Karash bring me out here to bicker with you?”

“Heeeeehehehehehe,” the old man wheezed another smoky laugh. “What would drive you to do what you do if not bloodlust and hate?”

“Money.” Taknark answered, dryly. 

“Hehehehe, simpler to open a fish stand. You could make money, and find your friend.”

Taknark’s jaw went slightly agape, nearly letting the cigarette tumble to the ground. “So you do know him?”

The elder slammed the cup down on the tray, lifting it up and looking at the bones. “Yanxia, traveler. Back the way you came. Where chains are broken and fisheater’s fly.”

“Could you be a little more specific?” Taknark asked with a sigh.

“Hehehe, no, traveler. I’ve seen nary of the outside of this tent in a decade. I only know what the bones tell me.” The elder giggled again.

Taknark turned and placed a hand on the entrance flap to the tent. “Thanks for the help.” He said, and exited. After he’d gone, one of the Qerel guards put his head into the tent, finding the elder’s head bowed and his hands folded together. 

“Is everything alright?”

“I am praying to Nhaama, child.”

“For the ijin?”

“For her. No mother should outlive her child.”

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Taknark stood on the cliff overlooking the Gensui Chain, in the middle of the cemetery above The Heron’s Way. He smoked a cigarette, and stood over the crumpled butts of a few already smoked. The fading sunset illuminated the slate gravestone.

Khaishan Ittetsu

“Didn’t make it all the way home, I guess.” Taknark remarked, taking a long drag from the cigarette. “They coulda put something on your stone, though. Maybe a fish, or a sword. A swordfish would have worked nicely, now that I think about it.”

Taknark heard the distinct sound of a slider being racked. “Put ‘em up, Taknark.”

The highlander raised his hands slowly, the smoke drifting off of the cigarette burning in his hand. He turned his head to see a small group of men, plainly dressed and brandishing a firearm each. Seven, he thought to himself.

“You’re a hard man to find, Bryrsig.” The voice called out to Taknark from the rear of the group. “How’s Bozja treatin’ you?”

Taknark didn’t move. “Well enough. Better than Othard nowadays.”

The man moved from behind one of his gunmen, training his own pistol on Taknark’s back. Taknark could feel his gaze drilling into him from behind a pair of cheap sunglasses. “You didn’t give my money to the resistance, did you?” He asked, gritting his teeth.

Taknark sighed. “Two rules, Vepar. No people, no bioweapons. You think I wouldn’t find a case of Black Rose at the bottom of a barrel of spice?”

“You take the money, you do the job!” Vepar yelled. “Where is it?!”

“The Rose? Destroyed it, ‘bout as soon as I found it.”

“Great. An arms smuggler with a conscience.”

“What’s a conscience?”

“Shut it!” Vepar gripped his pistol and snarled. “Turn around. If I can’t recoup my losses I’ll take your fucking head instead.”

Taknark did as he was told, turning around with his hands still raised. “Did you kill Khaishan?”

Vepar chuckled, “Nah. That headstone’s news to me too. I fucking wish I did, though. You and that reeking confederate never gave me shit but trouble.” He gestured with his weapon to the surrounding graves. “At least I won’t have to carry you very far.”

Taknark steeled his gaze towards the group of gunmen. “Here’s as good a place as any.” He looked up at his cigarette, nearly extinguished. “One last drag for the road?”

Vepar thumbed the hammer back on his own gun. “Fuck you. Kill him.”

The lead gunman placed his finger on the trigger, and saw the projectile flying at him. He moved his arm up to shield his head, expecting the hidden knife to strike, or a hidden flashbang to detonate at any moment. Time slowed to a crawl as he ducked, and looked up at the flicked cigarette flying overhead, its dim cherry leaving an orange trail against the fading light. He had just enough time to register the sight before the hole was ripped through his chest.

Bang.

The gunmen fell, and Taknark fired two more shots at the leading lackeys. 

Bang. Bang.

One fell clutching his chest, and the other fell like a bag of concrete as the bullet passed through his eye. Taknark vaulted over Khaishan’s headstone as the group opened fire. Pieces of slate chipped off, and a bullet came whizzing through the stone, grazing Taknark on the shoulder. He rolled out of cover with his palm on the hammer of his revolver, and fanned it.

Bang. Bang.

Two more shots rang out as two more fell. Vepar and the last henchman fired wildly as Taknark rolled between the graves. He heard the click of the rack sticking to the slide release, and the distinctive shlick of the magazine falling. Taknark rose over the graves, drew a bead, and fired.

Bang. 

Between the eyes. The last henchman fell backwards into the dirt as the blood ran down the hill. Taknark moved back from the graves onto the cemetery path, and trained his revolver on Vepar.

“Got time for a couple of questions?” Taknark asked, using his free hand to light another cigarette, keeping his eyes steeled on Vepar.

Vepar chuckled, then laughed loudly, raising his weapon back up towards Taknark. “What is it they used to call you? The Six-Shot Smuggler? Stylish.”

“I haven’t heard that one in a long time. You’ve got a taste for old history, Vepar.”

Vepar grinned. “You’re out, Taknark. I counted ‘em. Any last jokes you wanna make before I vent your fucking skull?”

Taknark took another long drag. “If you didn’t know Khaishan was dead, why risk impersonating him? Why send the letter?”

Vepar shook his head, and placed his finger on the trigger. “What fucking letter.” And squeezed.

Before the trigger moved, Vepar’s hand fell to the ground, still gripping the gun. His jaw dropped and he didn’t have time to make a sound before a katana passed cleanly through his neck. His assailant had his sword sheathed before he’d fallen, and his head rolled off, his face still in stunned silence.

The man stepped forward, resting his sheathed blade over his shoulders. A pale-skinned Au Ra with black horns, brown hair tied in a braid over his shoulder, and piercing blue eyes.

Taknark hummed, and lowered his weapon. “You look sprightly for a dead man.”

Khaishan shrugged. “IVth Legion found out I survived the rebellion. Figured it was easier to die than fight for no money. Again.”

Taknark took a final drag from his cigarette and dropped it on the ground, stamping it. “Well I’ve been chasing you across this continent for no money, and found your headstone instead. I hope you’ve got something really good, otherwise you’re a bigger dick than I ever gave you credit for.”

Their bickering was interrupted by a sound, like a spell failing to cast or the air being let out of a balloon. The pair looked down at Vepar’s corpse, its midlander features blurring as the corpse began to contort. Afterwards, a taller corpse and the distinct head of an au ra lay at the pair's feet.

“Fucking fantasia. I guess Au Ra do stick out nowadays.” Taknark sighed. “I should just avoid horned beings in general.”

Khaishan laughed. “A lot of attitude for someone who just had their life saved.”

“I had it under control.”

Khaishan perked an eyebrow. “How’s that?”

“Do you know why they used to call me the Six-Shot Smuggler?” Taknark asked.

Khaishan tapped his head with his sword sheath. “Sounds self-explanatory.”

“Alliteration.” Taknark replied, releasing the cylinder of his revolver and showing two brass bullets still loaded. “Eight shots. Never carried less.”

“They should call you the Eight-Shot Asshole instead.” Khaishan said with a laugh, turning to leave back down the hill. “I’ve got work, if you’re not too busy playing soldier. Let’s go to Namai before the tigers come to clean up this mess.”

Taknark clicked the cylinder back into place and placed the revolver back into the holster beneath his shoulder. As he moved down the hill, the last light of the day passed behind the cliffs, catching the engraving on Khaishan’s sheath.

Karash

[longitudinalwaveme]

Where Are The Ghostbusters When You Need Them?

Hi! Thanks for checking out my story!

Despite the title, the story actually does not feature the Ghostbusters, but it does feature the Flash Rogues. That's almost as good, right?

The story can't really fit anywhere canonically since Evan and Sam are alive simultaneously, among other things, but hopefully it'll be an enjoyable story anyhow. 

Mirror Master I: You ever seen one of those creepy houses? You know, the ones with broken windows and crumbling spires and ivy growing all over them? The ones that used to belong to super rich people and are now allegedly owned by some mysterious “third cousin once removed” that no one’s ever actually seen? The ones that stupid teenagers dare each other to spend the night in? Well, Central City has one of those creepy houses. Or, more accurately, Central City’s Pine Woods suburb has one of those creepy houses. It’s commonly known as the old Jackson place. It's a three-story mansion, with broken windows, crumbling stone, a creepy staircase, massive spires....the works. It was even used as a set for a horror movie back in the 80s. Even though it technically isn’t in the city proper, it’s close enough that everyone knows about the house-and the stories surrounding it. Allegedly, the old Jackson place was built by Adolphus Jackson in 1792, after he immigrated from somewhere in Ireland with his family. They were Central City’s first settlers (the Rathaways were second). He and his wife, Betty, had sixteen kids (although only ten survived to adulthood). All the dead kids were buried in the backyard of the house, so things are already getting creepy. (Some people say that you can hear crying when you go by the house, and other people have claimed to see ghostly children.) His oldest son, Jared, inherited the house when old man Jackson died in 1846. (He was buried behind the house, and yep, people have claimed to see him, too.) Jared worked alongside Martin Garrick (yes, he IS related to Jay Garrick) and my great-great-great-great-grandfather, Shawn Scudder, in Central City’s Underground Railroad. (Am I shaming my heritage? Yeah, probably. Moving on.) People have claimed to see the ghosts of slaves and such around the old Jackson place, and they’ve also claimed to see the ghosts of Harold and Rufus Jackson, an uncle and nephew who fought on opposite sides of the Civil War. In 1877, Jared died, and his second son, Arnold, inherited the house. (His oldest son was Harold, who died at the Battle of Chancellorsville.) Arnold got married to his second cousin, which is several levels of weird, and he added onto the house, making it a lot bigger and more impressive looking. He died in 1885, after adding to the family’s sizable fortune, and his son, Bernard, inherited the house and made it even fancier. Bernard is also where the really messed up stories about the Jackson place begin, as his oldest son, Robert, fell in love with a girl his father hated (partially because he had planned for his son to marry Lydia Rathaway, Piper’s great-great-great aunt). Their arguments over it got really nasty, and so eventually Robert ran away with his chick and got married to her, only for his father to threaten to cut him off. Sonny boy decided that he wanted the money more than his wife, and he abandoned her and was remarried to Piper’s great-great-great aunt. There was only one snag: his old wife had gotten pregnant and drowned herself in the pond (now dried up) on the back of the property to get revenge a few days after her baby was born. (People claim to see her ghost quite frequently.) Her parents, the Desmonds (and the Rathaways, who were mad that Bernard had had his son marry their daughter when he already had a wife) sued the pants off the Jacksons and the family was reduced to semi-poverty. Robert hung himself a few weeks after the lawsuit was settled (he allegedly haunts the house, too) and Bernard started drinking. A lot. He died in 1910 (probably from alcohol poisoning) and the estate was inherited by his only surviving offspring, a 19-year-old daughter named Alicia, who became a librarian and never married. (Alicia didn’t live in the house after the age of 21, probably because of all the bad memories, but people still see her ghost there.) She died in 1971, and the house, which had sat unused for over three decades, had already gained a reputation as being massively haunted, a reputation that only increased when some stupid 17-year-old broke into the house on a dare, fell down the old stairs in the dark, and broke his neck in 1995. (Since then, people have claimed to see HIS ghost as well.) So you get the point: the old Jackson place is massively haunted, massively creepy, and massively empty, so, of course, Captain Cold decided that we needed to break into the place on Halloween. Now, to be fair, we do something to get our adrenaline up every year on Halloween, but there’s a difference between going to a commercial haunted house, where nothing is real, and going to an old house that might actually be haunted, especially when said old house is falling apart and everyone is wearing ridiculous costumes (as we do every year). Earlier in the month, we had decided to dress up as classic movie monsters. Or at least I thought we had. As it turned out, some people had badly missed the memo….

Mirror Master II: Okay, so maybe the scarecrow costume I had wasnae all that scary, but it wasnae my fault! How was I supposed to ken that all the scary scarecrow costumes would be sold out by October 24? I wasnae PLANNING to be the Scarecrow from the Wizard of Oz! But I’m off topic. All of us had agreed to meet on the front lawn before we broke into the haunted house, so at 7:00 PM on Halloween night, I got into me costume and went to the lawn. Golden Glider (dressed as a vampire), Scudder (dressed as a zombie), the Trickster (dressed as a bedsheet ghost), Captain Boomerang (dressed as Frankenstein’s monster), and the Pied Piper (dressed as the Phantom of the Opera) were already there, and, of course, as soon as he saw me costume, Scudder started laughing.  “They were sold out of the scary costumes, ye eejit,” I said. “Then why didn’t you alter it or something? You don’t look scary at all!” Scudder asked. “Hey, at least I look scarier than the Trickster. And besides, not all of us be seamstresses, Scudder,” I replied. (He’d made his own costume and thought that nobody knew. Eejit.) Scudder flushed and suddenly became very interested in the bushes. At this point, Captain Cold showed up in cat ears. That was his whole costume. Otherwise, he jus’ looked like a hockey fan (which he be). His sister-a bonnie lassie, she-wasnae pleased with that. “Lenny, you were supposed to dress up as something scary!” “I did. I’m a werecat.” I’m nae sure why he thought that would be convincing. “Oh, come on! You didn’t even try!”“I never try. Why are you acting like this is something new?” The Glider threw up her hands. “Because you promised me you would try this year!” “I have a tail. Does that make it better?” The Glider rolled her eyes.“I give up.” She tossed her golden hair over her shoulder-I tell ye, she is a bonnie lass-and went to talk with the Piper. The Weather Wizard showed up a few seconds later, and I saw soomthing I never wanted to see: him in a dress. “What are ye supposed tae be, me gran?” The Wizard scowled.“I’m a witch!” I looked at him oddly. “Ye could have been a werewolf, and ye decided tae be a witch?”“It’s thematic! You know: wizards are magic; witches are magic….” I laughed. “Look, if ye want to dress up like a lassie, ye kin. Just donae expect me tae understand why.” The Wizard stormed off, and the Top arrived on the lawn, dressed as a gigantic top. Scudder laughed so hard that he had tae sit down, and I laughed pretty heartily myself. “What is so amusing?” the Top asked. Naebody bothered to explain that it was because he wasnae cooperating with the theme, because we all knew he wouldnae listen. “They’re just being stupid, sweetie pie. You look amazing,” the Glider said. (I’m nae sure if she meant it or if she was just trying to calm him doon.) Luckily for the Top, Heat Wave decided to show up at this point, and his costume made Captain Boomerang laugh so hard he wet himself and made me laugh so hard that I had to join Scudder on the ground, so everyone forgot about him. “Why are you wearing a tutu?” Captain Cold asked (as soon as he was capable of speech again.)“Well, I was gonna be Frankenstein, but Digger stole my idea, and I didn’t have any other ideas, so I decided that me in a tutu was scarier than any monster,” Heat Wave replied. I looked him over again and immediately wished I had nae doon it. He was right; the sight of a 6’6”, 250 pound man in a frilly pink tutu is more terrifying than any monster. His logic seemed to work on everyone else, too, because Captain Cold quickly changed the subject. “Okay, are we ready?” Scudder raised an eyebrow. “To break into the creepy ghost house? No, but I know I’m doing it anyway,” he replied. (At the time, I thought that he was being a wet blanket, but as it turned out, he was right to be a tad worried.) “As long as we’re bringing flashlights, I suppose so,” the Piper said. (He had been against going to the haunted house, tae, but he had been opposed to it because of some kid who had died there back in the 90s because the house didnae have lights, not because of Scudder’s ghosties, which he didnae believe in. Because of that, he had changed his tune after Cold promised him that he could bring a flashlight if he wanted tae.)“Then let’s go,” Captain Cold ordered.  With that, Scudder and I transported everyone to the house via Mirror Realm. Having only lived in Central City for a year, I had never seen it before, and I was a tad freaked out by what I saw. The house itself wasnae too bad, but the creepy dead grass and trees, and the graveyard in the back of the house, were spooky, especially under the huge moon.“‘Abandon all hope, ye who enter here?’ Really?” Golden Glider said scornfully, pointing at a sign in the yard. Her brother shrugged. “Probably some kid’s idea of a prank.” Piper, meanwhile, was looking nervously at a different sign. “Cold, this sign is from the government. It says the building is condemned. Are you sure we’ll be safe to go in there?” he asked. “Since when do we care what the government thinks?” Captain Cold replied. “When a building might collapse on our heads!” Piper exclaimed. “And when it’s haunted!” Scudder added, sounding happy to have an excuse tae go home. Captain Cold sighed and rolled his eyes. “Piper, if the house seems like it’s gonna collapse on us, we’ll just have Scudder and the Scotsman transport us out. We’ll be fine,” he said. Piper seemed to relax.“Good point,” he said. Sam  didn’t look as calm. “But what about the ghosts?” he asked. “Sam, ghosts don’t exist. They’re a product of overactive imagination and too many horror stories,” the Piper replied, only for Captain Boomerang to join the conversation.“They are too real! My second cousin’s ex-girlfriend’s ex-boyfriend’s dad’s third cousin’s aunt saw one!” he exclaimed, sounding offended. Piper didnae look convinced. “That’s hardly conclusive proof of-” he began, only tae be cut off by Captain Cold. “Enough about ghosts! Let’s go inside already!” he exclaimed. With that, Trickster picked the lock on the door. He pushed it open, producing a loud CREAK, and then we went inside. 

Weather Wizard: I’m going to tell you a secret: the witch costume was an accident. I swear, I thought I ordered the Dark Wizard costume, but when I opened up the package a week before Halloween, I found a witch costume instead, and because I didn’t have another two weeks to wait (or any more money) I was stuck with it and just decided to pretend it had been my plan the whole time to save face. (At least it matched the theme, unlike cats, tops, and ballerinas.) But I digress. So, after the Trickster picked the lock, we went inside and Piper and Cold turned on their flashlights. The hallway contained cobwebs and a moth-eaten carpet, but nothing else.

“We'll cover more ground if we divide and conquer, so let’s split up into groups and search this place for valuables. Lisa, you’re with me. Scudder, you’re with McCulloch. Mardon, you’re with Rory. Rathaway, you’re with Jesse. Dillon, you’re with Harkness,” Cold barked.

“WE’RE SPLITTING UP? That’s like the #1 way to die in a haunted house!” Scudder whined. (As it turned out, he was right to be worried, but at the time, I thought he was overreacting.) Hartley sighed.

“Sam, ghosts do not exist,” he said. (He was wrong.) Then he turned to Cold and asked,

“How will the Mirror Masters be able to transport us to safety if we’re not in the same part of the house?” Cold rolled his eyes.

“Piper, unless there’s an earthquake, the Mirror Masters will be able to get to all of us before the house falls. They basically have access to a teleportation system. We’ll be fine,’” Cold replied. Piper didn’t look entirely convinced, but he didn’t keep arguing.

“Why am I with Harkness? He’s an uncultured boor,” Dillon demanded.

“Well, I ain’t too fond of you, either, you wowser!” Harkness yelled.

“Why can’t I be with Roscoe, Lenny?” Lisa asked. Cold sighed wearily.

“Fine. Dillon, you’re with Lisa. Harkness, you’re with me. Sam, stop whining. Now let’s go!” Cold exclaimed. McCulloch saluted, dragged Scudder into a mirror, and vanished, and the rest of us fanned out to search the house. After walking through some more cobwebby hallways, Mick and I reached what I assumed was the living room. The room was filled with decaying furniture and mysterious old knicknacks, everything was covered in cobwebs, and part of the roof had fallen in. Seeing this, I had to wonder if the Piper had been right about the dangers of the building.

“How long do you think it’s been since someone touched any of this?” Mick asked me.

“If I had to guess, I’d say at least forty years,” I replied. I glanced out the window and noticed that a cloud had covered part of the moon and that the rest of it had turned red, and I shuddered. “Mick, there’s a blood moon.” I said quietly.

“So? They talked about that on the news,” Mick replied as he started pawing through the knicknacks laying on the floor.

“Never mind,” I said quickly as I joined him. I didn’t want him to think I was scared or anything. Several minutes later, we were still sorting through things and had found nothing but a broken teacup, a broken porcelain doll, and a dusty beaded shawl.

“I hope the whole house ain’t like this. If it is, Captain Cold’ll be mad,” Mick said. I shrugged.

“That’s his problem, not mine.” I heard a rumble of thunder in the distance, and, a few seconds later, the sobs of a child. Mick looked up from the floor in shock.

“Did you hear that?” he asked me.

“The thunder, or the kid crying?”

“The kid crying!” I nodded.

“Yeah, I heard it too. Why?”

“Because we need to go help that kid!” he replied. I rolled my eyes.

“Mick, we’re here to get rich, not help some kid.” Mick ignored me and pulled me in the direction of the crying sound, despite my attempts to break free from his grasp. We had gotten halfway across the living room when we saw a little girl. Her hair was in...uh, ringlets, I think they’re called?-and her dress came down to the floor. She was crying (of course) and Mick went over to her.

“Hey, there, little one. Are you lost?” he asked gently. I thought about leaving Mick with the girl and continuing to search for loot, but there was something about the little girl that made it impossible for me to pull away, and NOT in a “she’s so small and helpless” way. Mick reached out to put his hand on the girl’s shoulder-and his hand went straight through her! My knees went weak under me, and then the world went black. When I came to, I found myself on a dusty couch. I looked around the room and saw Mick waving good-bye to the vanishing ghost.

“Oh, hey, Mark. Glad to see you up-although there wasn’t really a reason for you to faint like that. Georgia was just worried that we were gonna hurt her doll. When I told her we weren’t, she cheered right up and went away,” he said cheerfully.

“The ghost has a name? And is friendly?” I asked. Mick nodded.

“I don’t even think she knew she was dead. Poor little thing,” he said, and I sighed in relief.

“In that case, let’s get back to work. If she’s the only ghost here, we’ve got nothing to worry about,” I said. (Famous last words.) With that, the two of us continued our search of the living room.

Trickster: The Piper and I- James Jesse, con artist extraordinaire-decided to investigate the attic. I’m a horror movie junkie, so if I’m breaking into a haunted house, what better place to get that adrenaline rush than the attic? Piper and I climbed three sets of narrow, creaky, cracked, cobwebby stairs to the attic (although Piper got winded halfway up the second flight and I had to drag him up the last one). Then I opened the door to see lots of cobwebs, a shattered mirror, a broken window, an old, rusted bedframe, some old-fashioned cabinets, a sword, an old rocking horse (sadly, it was too small for me), and a bunch of other old stuff. The roof was low, and it was really dark. My heart pounded, but in a good way.

“This is so much better than the fake haunted houses! We should go here every year!” I exclaimed. Piper swept his flashlight from left to right, and then started examining the boring knick knacks that were lying around. I pulled out a yo-yo and some bubble gum and waited eagerly for the walls to start dripping blood. After about two minutes, Piper pulled a stack of old papers out of one of the cabinet drawers.

“James, these are from the Civil War!” he exclaimed excitedly. I yawned.

“So?” I asked. Piper looked shocked.

“James, these are valuable historical documents! If they’re really as old as they look, they could provide priceless information about the role of Central City in the Civil War!”

“Can they summon a ghost?” Piper sighed.

“No. They cannot.” I blew a particularly large bubble.

“Then I’m not interested. Let’s find something that CAN summon a ghost!” Piper rolled his eyes.

“James, you’re not going to find something that can summon a ghost, because ghosts-” Suddenly, the windows rattled and we heard a loud moan.

“Don’t exist?” Piper squeaked. Five seconds later, a transparent man with a noose around his neck appeared and floated towards us. Piper screamed and bolted down the stairs, and I whooped with joy and followed him, narrowly missing the ghost’s clammy hands.

“Catch me if you can, you stupid ghost!” I yelled. I followed the Piper to the second floor and into a spooky old bathroom, complete with dusty mirror, a big tub with clawed feet, a broken toilet, and a sink. Mold was growing in the sink and on the walls, and I grinned. This day just kept getting better and better! Piper slammed the door and locked it behind us.His chest was heaving and he looked exhausted. (Rich kids don’t have much reason to be athletic.)

“You were saying?” I asked ‘sweetly’. Piper gave me a death glare.

“NOT the time!” Piper said. I laughed.

“Do you really think a locked door will keep out a ghost? It can’t even keep us out!” I asked him. Piper’s face went white, and he ran over to the dirty mirror.

“Sam! McCulloch! Get us home now!” he yelled. There was no response.

“Piper, you know the Mirror Realm doesn’t work that way. You can only talk to them through it if they want you to, and if they haven’t had the good luck to run into a ghost, they won’t be able to guess that you might want them to pick us up.” I said as I played with my yo-yo. Piper whimpered and buried his head in his hands, then started muttering incomprehensibly as I whistled merrily.

“How can you be so happy?” Piper demanded after a few minutes.I grinned.

“Kid, we’re being chased by a real, honest-to-goodness ghost! It doesn’t get more awesome than that!” Just then, the ghost drifted through the door, and I pulled out my camera and started snapping pictures as Piper screamed.

“We’regoingtodiewe’regoingtodiewe’regoingto die !” He darted to the door, fumbled with the lock, and opened it just as the ghost brushed his clammy fingers against his back. He screamed louder and ran down the hall. I snapped a few more photos, stuck my tongue out at the ghost,and followed Piper. The ghost roared angrily and flew after me. I caught up with Piper after about a minute and lead him into a dumbwaiter, then slammed the door behind us.

“James, how is this closet preferable to hiding in the bathroom? The ghost can still walk through walls!” Piper demanded.

“Piper, YOU’RE the one who had all the servants. Shouldn’t you know what a dumbwaiter is?”

“I know what a dumbwaiter is,I have just never seen one before. I was not allowed to spend time with the servants.You can hardly blame me for mistaking it for a closet. Besides, my point still stands: why would hiding in here keep us safe from the ghost?” I laughed.

“Piper, that ghost is Robert Jackson, who hung himself because he wasn’t rich anymore and gave up the love of his life for money! Entering the dumbwaiter that the servants used would be beneath him. As long as we’re in here, we’re safe. For a guy who’s college educated, you sure are stupid,” I explained. Piper frowned.

“You were taking selfies with the ghost, and I’M stupid?” he yelled. I smiled “innocently”.

“I never said I wasn’t stupid...but I’m not a graduate from Harvard, either. But I knew how to save us from the ghost, and you didn’t,” I replied. Hartley sighed wearily.

“Whatever you say, James...but how did you know what a dumbwaiter is? You thought that the American Civil War started in 1961 until last month, so you cannot have known about them from history, and you were not wealthy, so you cannot have had servants who used one,” he asked.

“My Nonna Gianna was a maid for a wealthy family in Italy when she was a girl, and she used a dumbwaiter when she worked for them,” I explained.

“Wait...you’re Italian?” Hartley asked.

“Sí. Well, Italian-American, anyhow.My paternal grandparents immigrated from Italy in 1935 after Mussolini took over and invaded Ethiopia. When they got to America, they joined the Big Circus because my Nonno Antonio had been an acrobat in Italy. They had a whole lot of kids, and my dad was the youngest. He was born in 1955, and he married my mother, who was a second-generation Italian immigrant herself, in 1980. I was born eight years later,” I explained.

“But your name is James Jesse! That doesn’t sound remotely Italian!” Hartley protested.

“Hel-lo! My nonni were Italian immigrants performing for the American public at the height of World War II! They took stage names: Jesse for the last name, and Rosie and Jared for their first names. By the end of the war, they’d gotten so famous under the Jesse name that they couldn’t really change it back to their real one, so they just kept the stage name. My dad’s real name was Alessandro, but he called himself Jacob. My mother’s name really was Helen, though, because her parents had given her an American name. My real name’s actually Giovanni Giuseppe. How’s that for a mouthful?” I exclaimed.

“Sai parlare italiano?” Piper asked.

“Nonni, nonna, nonno, pizza, spaghetti, Venice, Rome, sí, il Dulche, Mamma Mia, madre, padre,  nipote, figlia, figlio,Ti amo, caro, Coinvolgimi, bella noche, Dov'è la birra? That’s all the Italian I know. Well, that and a lot of swear words,” I replied.

“En d’autres termes, tu sais autant d’italien comme vous le français?” Piper asked. I looked at him oddly.

“English?”

“So, in other words, you know as much Italian as you do French?” he replied.

“Yeah, pretty much. Not everyone can afford tutors for twenty languages,” I said.

“I only speak six languages-Spanish, French, German, Italian, Japanese, and Mandarin Chinese, and I can only write in the first four. I’m passable in Arabic and Russian, too, but I’d hardly say I can speak twenty languages.” I grinned evilly.

“Let’s go find some more ghosts!” I exclaimed.

“No! I’m staying right here, where it’s safe,” Piper yelled.

“Spoilsport,” I said. I started using my yo-yo again.

Captain Cold: So, as I guess you already know, I ended up partnered with Captain Koala, because he and Roscoe insisted on being stubborn morons. I wanted to look for the safe, but Digger insisted that we go to the kitchen because he was hungry, and, since Digger seems to have an immunity to food poisoning, I figured it would probably be safe to let him eat 85-year-old food, and feeding him would get him to shut his big mouth besides. Digger, who practically has an internal homing device for food, found the kitchen in about a minute flat. The kitchen was dusty, covered in cobwebs, and filled with a lot of rusted-out junk, and it was so dark that, without my flashlight, I don't think I would've been able to see two feet in front of me. It was a little creepy, I’m not gonna lie. But I don’t scare easy, so I started pawing around for valuables while Digger found the world’s oldest box of crackers and started digging in. I found a bunch of silver spoons and shoved them into my bag…and then something weird happened. A really attractive lady appeared out of basically nowhere and walked right through me like she couldn’t even see me. It felt like when I accidentally shot myself with my cold gun, and I frowned. Ghosts weren’t supposed to exist. However, I had business to do, so I ignored the ghost lady and went back to my work. Digger, on the other hand, didn’t take the ghost so well. He let out a string of Australian swear words, yelled something about a “ghost sheila” (knowing him, it was probably the exact opposite of polite), grabbed his crackers, and started to run. I grabbed him by his scarf before he could exit the room.

“Let me go, you bloody loon! You’ve got kangaroos loose in your top paddock if you want to stay here with a ghost, Cold!” Digger yelled.

“Stop freaking out, Digger. She doesn’t have any weapons, she’s not dripping blood, and she’s not bad to look at besides. Just ignore her. We have work to do.” Digger looked closer at the ghost and grinned.

“Bloody oath! She is a beautiful Sheila, ain’t she?”

“Yeah, she’s pretty. I just said that. Now get to work.” I said. Digger ignored me and walked over to the ghost.

“G’day, Sheila. I’m Captain George Harkness of the Australian Secret Service. Who are you?” he asked. (He tells every girl he takes a fancy to that he worked/works for the Australian Secret Service. It’d be a great pick up line if it wasn’t a total lie.) I rolled my eyes as I helped myself to some fine china plates. Was Digger seriously hitting on a ghost?

“Is Australia a northern state, Master Harkness?” the ghost asked. She sounded terrified, and had an accent I couldn’t quite place. Digger laughed.

“Oz? In the North? Sheila, it’s called the Land Down Under for a reason,” he replied. The ghost looked terrified and started to cry. I tried valiantly to ignore the sound and shoved the remainder of the china into my bag.

“What’re you crying for, Sheila?” Digger asked, sounding annoyed.

“B-b-because if you a Southern soldier, you gonna take me and my baby back to slavery!” I noticed that she was, indeed, carrying a baby and grimaced. I did NOT have time for dealing with this crud. Digger walked back over to me.

“I didn’t notice she had an anklebiter. She’s a lovely sheila, but not enough for me to want to be a daddy. And why’s she wailing about slavery?” he asked.

“How should I know? I dropped out of high school at 14, and I don’t have many dealings with ghosts,” I replied in annoyance as the ghost’s wailings got louder. She moved rapidly toward Digger and fell on her knees.

“Please, don’t take my baby, Master Harkness. Let him be free, please, please!” she begged. Digger shot me a pleading look, and I sighed wearily. How did Digger get himself-and me- into these situations?

“Look, lady, we don’t want you or your baby. Now go on, shoo. You and the kid are free, and “Master Harkness” and I have business to do,” I said. The ghost stared.

“Ain’t you Confederate soldiers?” she asked, obviously confused.. Digger and I looked at each other in equal confusion.

“What’s a Confederate?” Digger asked the ghost.

“They’s the soldiers who be fighting to make their own country,” she replied.

“What’s she talking about?” Digger asked me. I shrugged.

“The Civil War…..I think,” I said, drawing desperately from my memories of 8th grade history.

“You mean the war you Yanks had between each other? What’s that gotta do with this sheila?” I racked my brains for any connection between the two and wished that I hadn’t chosen 8th grade history as the class to sleep through.

“Um...she was talking about slavery…I think the South had slaves...probably….and that was maybe why the war started? Possibly? And-and since you said you were from the South, and she’s probably about as well-educated as we are, she didn’t realize that you meant you were from another continent entirely, and so she thought that you were gonna want to make her a slave again,” I said, feeling pretty proud of myself for figuring all that out.

“Didja hear that, Sheila? I’m not a Confederate, whatever that means! Australia’s an island. It ain’t part of America. Now, it’s London to the brick that I’m dangerous, so you probably wanna steer clear of me, but I’m not gonna be taking you to slavery, neither. And, hey, if you got any single friends without anklebiters,, tell ‘em t’ look up Captain Harkness, will ya?” Digger told her cheerfully.

“I..I’m free?” she asked quietly.

“As a bird. Now get outta here. You’re safe in this city,” I told her flatly.

“Thank you, sir! Thank you!” she said. She kissed her baby, and they passed through the kitchen wall and vanished into thin air. As soon as she was gone, I glared at Digger.

“Okay, now that you’re done hitting on a ghost, can we get back to work, please?” I asked.

“If you want to, that’s fair dinkum. I’m gonna go back to my chips,” Digger said. He tried to walk back to the table, but I grabbed him by the scarf before he could and forced him to clear out the rest of the valuables while I took a smoke break. He swore colorfully in Australian the entire time, but I ignored him. He was just packing the last of the chinaware away when another ghost, this one holding a gun, showed up. One look at him told me that we were in trouble, and so I ran out of the room, Digger hot on my heels.

Golden Glider: So, while Mick and Marky-Mark were in the living room, James and Hartley were running around like lunatics, and Lenny and Digger were running away from history as much as they were running away from ghosts, Roscoe and I had decided to investigate the backyard. It contained a rotting porch and a small cemetery, one which was surrounded by a wrought iron fence. It was quite dark, because there were no porch lights, but that just made it all the more romantic. As soon as we left the house, I snuggled up close against Roscoe and we both sat down on the one intact porch step. “Isn’t the darkness so romantic?” I asked him. He looked puzzled, and it was adorable. “I believe that the darkness is the absence of light, my darling,” he said. I tittered. “You’re so funny, Roscoe,” I cooed. He smiled. “I am glad I have pleased you, sweetums,” he said. A cloud moved and revealed the moon, big and red and lovely. I pointed at it in excitement. “Roscoe, look at the moon! Isn’t it beautiful? Doesn’t it remind you of us?” I asked. Roscoe looked concerned. “My darling, the moon is a celestial body that revolves around the Earth. I do not see how it can remind you of us. Did no one teach you about the nature of the moon? It is not a human being,” he said. I sighed; having forgotten how literal Roscoe can be. “Roscoe, dear, I was speaking figuratively. I said it was like us because it’s beautiful, just like we are,” I explained. Roscoe’s eyes lit up in understanding. “I see. Forgive my confusion, my darling,” he said. I kissed him on the cheek. “Of course, honey,” I replied. He kissed me on my cheek, and then I kissed him full on the lips. We were still embracing five minutes later, when a young girl in a white dress appeared. She was completely transparent, and stared at us in silence for a few seconds. “Are you lovers?” she asked quietly. “We are indeed, and my Lisa is a goddess among women,” Roscoe replied. Her face fell, and then twisted into fury. “How dare you flaunt your happiness in front of the grave of a poor rejected woman? Is it not enough that I was rejected by my Robert? Is it not enough that I killed myself of despair? Must I be mocked by your love as well? For your impudence, I will make you suffer as I have suffered!” she screamed. She moved over to Roscoe, kissed him on the lips (please don’t ask me HOW) and then disappeared. Roscoe shoved me off his lap violently and stood up. “Get off of me, you wretch!” he spat. The words felt like a blow. “R-R-Roscoe, what….what’s wrong?” Roscoe had never talked to me like that before, and in that moment I saw Lewis-my “father”-in his face. “You are what is wrong! I am a gentleman, and you-you are common trash. Why I was mad enough to kiss you I’ll never understand!” Roscoe said coldly. “What are you saying?” I asked. “I am saying that I have had enough of dating a welfare queen,” Roscoe replied. Normally, I would have struck back, but I was so bewildered by his behavior that I just stared at him. After a few seconds, he scowled. “What are you staying for, you pathetic wretch? Leave me!” he ordered, and I found my tongue. “No, Roscoe. I am staying right here with you. You may not think you love me anymore, but you will not drive me away. I won’t give you the pleasure of ordering me around like a dog,” I said. “Why not? You are a dog,” Roscoe spat. I moved to slap him, but before I could, we were interrupted by another ghost, this one wielding a old-timey gun, who charged at us. I kicked at the ghost on impulse, but, of course, it went straight through him. While I was distracted, Roscoe abandoned me, but after I regained my balance, I rushed after him and we went into the dining room. “Stop chasing me, you hussy!” he yelled. “I’m not chasing you, I’m running away from the ghost,” I said. As if on cue, the ghost lifted a table and threw it at Roscoe’s head. I pushed him out of the way and narrowly avoided being hit myself. “Why did you save me? It will not make me love a woman like you,” he demanded harshly. This time, I did slap him. “You’re welcome,” I spat. Roscoe frowned. “You dare lay a hand on a gentleman?” he demanded. Before he could continue, however, the ghost levitated all six chairs in the room, and so I grabbed him and pulled him into the hallway. A series of loud crashes followed almost immediately. “I notice that you don’t complain when I touch you in order to save your life,” I said pointedly. Roscoe sniffed haughtily and didn’t reply. Under normal circumstances, I would have led us to the door and left the house, but with Roscoe acting so strangely, I couldn’t. I didn’t want to leave only for Roscoe to keep treating me like dirt, so I decided to stay and take charge of the situation. “All right, so where do we go from here?” I asked. Roscoe scowled. “‘We’ are not going anywhere. Have I not made my disdain for you utterly clear? I am going to one of the bedrooms to go to sleep, and you-I care not where you go, so long as you stay away from me,” he said. I shook my head firmly. “No, we’re staying together. Even if you really do hate me, from a logical standpoint you’re obviously safer with me around,” I replied. Roscoe pondered this for a few seconds, then nodded. “Very well. We will stick together. However, let me make one thing clear: I do not love you. Our current predicament does not change that,” he said, and I felt my heart break. I slapped him again and said, “Fine! See if I care!” With that, I pulled Roscoe up the stairs to the second floor and into one of the bedrooms, which contained an canopy bed, a broken window, an old armorie, and a painting of a handsome young man. The plaque beneath it read "Robert Jackson, beloved son". It was a picture of the man who had spurned his lover. How appropriate. Roscoe laid down on the bed and fell asleep almost immediately (he is definitely not a night owl) and I started crying. How had this perfectly romantic night gone so badly awry?

Mirror Master II: After a quick trip through the Mirror Realm, Scudder and I arrived in the basement. It was awfy dark doon there, I’m nae gonna lie, but the way Scudder was reacting, you’d have thought it was a torture chamber. He was jumping at every little sound and keeping so close tae me that I was practically tripping over him. After aboot a minute of that, I got fed up with him and decided tae tell him tae grow a spine.

“Stop acting like a wean, will ye? It’s hard eno to move doon here without having tae avoid you,” I told him. He moved about an inch further away.

“If we run into a ghost, I’m feeding you to it,” he muttered. I laughed and started looking for trinkets, while he stayed right next tae the stairs. After a few minutes,  I uncovered an emerald ring.

“This is worth something, int it no?” I asked happily. Scudder shrugged.

“Great, you’ve found your prize. Now let’s get out of here!” he said.

“Not yet! I need a bigger haul than this!” I replied. Scudder frowned.

“Look here, you second-rate Mirror Master. I am not about to have my brain turned into soup by a ghost just so that you can sell two rings instead of one. We’re going upstairs now,” he said.

“Who are ye calling a second-rate Mirror Master? I use the Mirror Realm better than ye ever could, ye minger!” I yelled.

“You don’t even know how it works. You just swiped my equipment, you Glaswegian thug!” Scudder replied. Then I punched him, and he punched me, and we got into a fist fight. He was trying tae get oot of my stranglehold when soomthing weird happened: a ghostie showed up. You ken those drawings of fat rich people? It looked like that. I was so surprised that I let Scudder go, and he screamed like a lassie and dove intae the Mirror Realm. Me? I just froze. I didnae have a clue how to fight a ghostie, so I did soomthing pure stupid: I waved at it!  The ghostie levitated a lamp and threw it at me head, only narrowly missing me. I dove intae the mirror after Scudder. He was panicking.

“I don’t wanna die I don’t wanna die I don’t wanna die; please don’t let me die please please please don’t let me die!”

“Calmy doony, Scudder. The ghostie canae come intae the Mirror Realm,” I said. Ten seconds later, the ghostie came intae the Mirror Realm.

“You just had to say it!” Scudder wailed.

“Dinae just stand there, run!” I yelled. Both of us took off running, and only stopped when the ghostie vanished. I grinned.

“We did it! We escaped the ghostie!” I yelled. Scudder smiled slightly, but then he looked around and his smile vanished.

“Oh, no. This is bad, this is bad, this is really bad,” he said.

“What do ye mean? We escaped from the ghostie!” I replied.

“Look around you! Do you recognize any of this?” I looked around, and realized that we were in big  trouble: I didnae recognize anything around me, and I ken most of  the Mirror Realm like the back of my hand.

“We’re lost,” I said.

“No duh, really? I had no idea,” Scudder replied sarcastically.  I tried tae punch him for that, but he dodged me swing.

“I don’t see why you’re punching at me. I was against coming to the creepy ghost house from the start, and if we had stayed home and watched A Nightmare on Elm Street like I suggested, we wouldn’t be in this mess! But did you-or anyone-listen to me? Oh, no! “Ghosts don’t exist, Sam.” “Stop being such a wimp, Scudder.” “We’ll be fine.”  “Stop being such an idiot, Scudder.” Well, WHO’S THE IDIOT NOW?” he yelled hysterically, and I wished that Captain Cold hadnae put me with him, because he looked downright loony.

“Ah am, all right? Now help me find a way oot of here!” Sam laughed weakly.

“Find a way out of the Mirror Realm? You might as well tell me to beat Superman in a fist fight. It’s impossible. There’s a reason that I never go out of sight of the mirror portals: the Mirror Realm is so vast that if you get lost, you’ll probably never find your way back to them-and they’re our only way out of the Mirror Realm. I can’t get us out without the portals, and, thanks to you, Len, and that ghost, I have no idea where they are. Heck, I don’t even know where WE are!” he exclaimed.

“The Land  of Abstract Art, mebbe?” I suggested. We were surrounded by swirls of colors and strange shapes, ye ken? Scudder didnae seem to find that as funny as I’d thought it was.

“Really? We’re lost in a never-ending mirror maze, and you’re cracking jokes?” I shrugged.

“Aye. Beats whining aboot it, ye jerrie.” To tell the truth, I was just as freaked out as Scudder was, but I wasnae about to let him know it.

“You’re a lunatic,” he spat.

“Ah am’nae!” I yelled back. I punched  him, he punched me, and we ended up in another fistfight that only ended when both of us collapsed from exhaustion. Apparently, all the running had taken a lot oot of us. Scudder basically ended up falling asleep on my lap, and I was too tired to move him. After aboot a minute of embarrassment, I fell asleep tae.

Heat Wave: Hi, there. I’m Mick Rory, but you can call me Heat Wave. Everyone does. So, uh, while everyone else was running away from angry ghosts, Weather Wizard and I were still searching for valuables, and not finding any. After about an hour of searching, I got bored, pulled out my flamethrower, and lit the sofa on fire. It was beautiful and pretty and warm, and I decided to touch it. Bad idea, because I was still wearing the tutu, and..well...tutus are really flammable. The fire didn’t exactly hurt me (the prison doc tells me my skin’s so badly burned by this point that it doesn’t feel pain anymore), but it did freak out Weather Wizard, who doused me (and the sofa) with what felt like a gallon of water.

“Hey! You put out my beautiful sofa fire!” I complained. The Wiz scowled.

“In case you didn’t notice, YOU were on fire, too!” he said angrily.

“And now I’m sopping wet AND don’t have my precious fire. I don’t see how that’s an improvement,” I replied. In response, the Wiz beaned me over the head with his wand. (He doesn’t have a good swing, so it  didn’t really hurt.)

“Being wet doesn’t kill you, you big oaf! You know what does? BEING ON FIRE!” His face was red and his eyes were crackling with electricity, so I knew he was pretty upset. Because he can create tornadoes, I decided to apologize.

“You’re right, Mark, and I’m sorry. Thanks for saving me,” I said. His eyes stopped crackling.

“Just don’t do it again,” he said. I nodded and sat down on what was left of the sofa, and Wiz went over to the window and gazed out of it.

“A storm’s brewing,” he said. I don’t think he was trying to sound spooky, but with his tone of voice and his witch costume, he did. A few seconds later, lightning flashed and thunder boomed. Wiz opened the window and leaned out. The wind whipped his (impossibly spiky) hair, and he stared at something in silence. After a few seconds, it got creepy, and so I went over to him and dragged him away from the window. I closed it as soon as he wasn’t in the way.

“Come on, Mark, let’s go to another room. Captain Cold’ll be mad if we don’t find something valuable,” I said. When he didn’t move, I picked him up, threw him over my shoulder, and took him up the stairs and into a bedroom which looked like it might have belonged to a little kid at some point, since there were a bunch of old toys in it. One of the windows was broken, and everything, including the toys, a rocking chair, and a crib, was covered in dust and cobwebs. It was very spooky, although it was in better shape overall than the living room had been. I started looking for something valuable, and the Wiz made a beeline for the window.

“Hey, knock that off! Just ‘cause you’re the Weather Wizard doesn’t mean that you get to look at the weather and not help me!” I said. Wiz turned around and locked eyes with me.

“The storm...it’s an ill wind that blows no good,” he muttered. It was almost like he was in a trance or something. And then it happened: a ghost appeared. Now, it wasn’t super gory-really, it just looked like a transparent teenager-but let me tell you: it was scarier than anything I’ve ever seen in a horror movie. At almost the same time, it started to rain heavily. The Wiz passed out again, and the ghost advanced on me. I decided that discretion was the better part of valor (what? I saw Shakespeare on TV one time), threw the Wiz over my shoulder, and ran downstairs and out of the house with him. (Question: Why is it that he was WAY heavier when he was unconscious than when he was conscious?) I wanted to make Captain Cold happy, but I wasn’t gonna fight a ghost just for some loot. As soon as we got out the door, the ghost stopped following us, so I dumped the Wiz on the ground and began what proved to be a LONG wait for the Mirror Masters to come pick us up. Wiz woke up about five minutes after we got out of the house and cleared up the rain (thank goodness), then took a look at me and smiled.

“You should see yourself. Your tutu’s unrecognizable and I can see your underwear,” he said. I felt my cheeks heat up. Man, that was embarrassing.

“Yeah, well, you fainted twice, so I think we’re even,” I replied. The Wiz flushed, and looked at the ground. A few seconds later, he yawned, then produced a wind that dried up the ground.

“I’m gonna take a nap. Wake me up when Scudder shows up,” he said. With that, he curled up on the ground and dozed off. After a couple seconds, I sat down next to him, and, after a few minutes of trying and failing to come up with an excuse for not finding any loot, I dozed off too. (One of the benefits of being….less than legally employed is that you learn to fall asleep anywhere.) I woke up about twenty minutes later when the Wiz poked me in the side with his wand.

“Huh?” I asked drowsily.

“Where are the Mirror Masters at? Surely they’ve gotta be finished by now,” he whined. I shrugged.

“Maybe they’re still looking for stuff. Or maybe they hit the jackpot and are still gathering up all the stuff they found,” I suggested.

“Well, they better hurry up. I’m bored and tired and I want to get back to my nice soft bed,” the Wiz replied.

“I’m sure they’ll be here soon,” I said. Then I fell back to sleep and was dead to the world for another forty minutes.

Pied Piper: After being trapped in the dumbwaiter for about ten minutes, I turned off my hearing aids. Not being able to hear is never a pleasant experience, but it was highly preferable to listening to a bored Trickster sing “This Is the Song That Never Ends” again and again and again. This solution worked reasonably well until I realized that I very much needed to use the powder room and needed advice as to how to do so without attracting the nightmare creature that wanted to devour my internal organs. Therefore, I had to turn my hearing aids back on, because none of the other Rogues have ever bothered to learn sign language and I had no desire to play charades. As soon as my hearing turned back on, I was greeted with what must have been the fortieth rendition of “This is the Song That Never Ends”.

“James. James. JAMES! I, um, need to use the powder room. Do you have any idea as to how I can do that without meeting the ghost?”

“Depends. What’s a powder room?” He batted his eyes and smiled in the most irritating manner imaginable.

“You know full well what a powder room is!” I exclaimed. James’ smile grew wider as he shook his head.

“I can’t help you if I don’t know what you need, Piper,” he said. I sighed and gave in.

“It’s a restroom,” I said, blushing terribly. James laughed and did a particularly impressive trick with his yo-yo.

“Oh, so you need to pee! Why didn’t you say so?” he asked.

“Because my parents did not allow me to discuss bodily functions in public. Ever,” I replied.

“Did your parents allow you to breathe without their say-so?” I frowned. My parents had indeed controlled my days down to the second before they disowned me, but I didn’t want to admit it, so I said,

“Never mind that. Just tell me how to use the powder room without getting killed!”

“Oh, that’s easy. I’ll close my eyes, and you can do your business in here,” James replied. As I did not have access to a mirror, I cannot be sure about this, but I believe that I blushed even harder.

“No!”

“Why not? You can even blindfold me if you want. Believe me, I do NOT want to watch that,” James replied. I scowled.

“Because that is disgusting, James.”

“I don’t see why. It’s what we did in the circus,” he said, sounding genuinely confused.

“This is not the circus!”

“Well, it isn’t exactly Rathaway manor, either. I’m not saying that it isn’t gross, but this place is in bad condition already. You can’t make it much worse,” James replied.

“I think I would rather face the ghost,” I said. James laughed.

“I can’t believe that you’re more scared of breaking your parents’ rules of being “proper” and pretending that you don’t have bodily functions than you are of a literal ghost,” he said.

“This has nothing to do with my parents!”

“Somebody’s in de-ni-al!” James singsonged.

“I’m not in denial. Just because I do not want to be Digger does not mean that this has anything to do with my parents,” I insisted.

“Yep, definitely in denial,” James said. I ignored him and pulled out the mirror that I had brought with me in order to contact the Mirror Masters.

“Sam! McCulloch! If you can hear me, I need you to get me-and James-out of this house!” Nothing happened, and I sighed wearily. There went that idea. About three minutes later, I decided that I couldn’t wait any longer. I opened the doors nervously and, not seeing anything, bolted down the hall to the powder room, used it, and was on my way back when the ghost reappeared. I screamed like a little girl (which is quite humiliating in hindsight) and just froze up in terror. If I had been alone, I don’t want to know what would have happened next, but, luckily for me, James showed up at exactly this point and yelled,

“Hey, Casper! Over here, you preposterous poltergeist!” The ghost howled and started chasing him, and he whooped with glee and ran down the hall in the direction of the staircase. Thirty seconds later, I heard a loud cry of pain from James. I bolted to the top of the stairs and saw that one of the steps had given way under James, and that he had clearly broken his ankle. Worse, the ghost was floating over top of him, and, for the first time, he looked scared. I stared at the scene for a few seconds, unsure of what to do, and then pulled out my flute and started playing it in the desperate hope that its hypnotic powers would work on a ghost. I tried to ignore the fact that my knees were shaking under me as I played, and, after a few seconds, the ghost stopped howling and floated away from James. I carefully went down the stairs to my partner, still playing, then knelt down beside him and put the flute away.

“Do NOT do that again! You scared the daylights out of me!” I snapped. James smiled.

“Aww, you do care,” he said. All his fear seemed to be forgotten and I shook my head in amazement. He had almost been killed (possessed?) by a ghost, and he was already making jokes.

“I did owe you. After all, if you had not attracted the ghost’s attention, I might have been killed. How’s your ankle?” I asked.

“It hurts like the dickens,” he replied.

“Can you walk?” James stood up shakily, winced, and quickly sat back down, then smiled and said,

“I can walk on my hands!” He proceeded to demonstrate. In spite of myself, I laughed a little.

“Can you keep that up long enough to get to the front door?” I asked him after I stopped laughing.

“Probably. Why?”

“Because we are leaving. I don’t know how long my hypnosis will last, but it will wear off eventually, and I do not want to be here when it does,” I explained.

“Aww, but I wanted to see some more ghosts!”

“Can you run on your hands?” I asked. James grinned slightly.

“Maybe?” he asked. I shook my head.

“Let’s go. We can watch The Shining when we get home if you want,” I said. (It’s James’ favorite horror movie, and very useful as a bribe.) James’ grin widened.

“You know me well, Piper. Let’s go home,” he said. With that, we left the house-only to find Mick and Mark asleep on the lawn; Mick in little more than his underwear.

“There’s something you don’t see every day,” James said.

“What, Mick and Mark sleeping on the lawn or Mick in his underwear?” I asked.

“Both, but mainly Mick in his underwear. That’s an image I’ll never get out of my mind,” he replied.

“Me, neither,” I agreed. After a few seconds, James sat down on the ground and pulled out a pack of bubble gum.

“I swallowed my gum when that step broke under me. Want some gum?” he asked.

“I suppose,” I replied. James handed me a stick of gum and then took out one for himself as well. I sat down next to him, unwrapped the stick of gum, and started chewing it. James blew a huge bubble.

“How do you do that?” I asked.

“Blow bubbles? Haven’t you ever had bubble gum before?” he asked. I shook my head.

“My parents said that gum was for plebeians,” I replied.

“Well, if they really did cut you off, you are one now, so that shouldn’t be a concern anymore,” he said. I smiled.

“You have a point. So, carnie, how about teaching this ex-patrician how to properly blow bubbles with bubble gum?” I asked.

“You’re on!” James exclaimed.

Captain Boomerang: I hate all the bloody ghosts in that bloody ghost house! (I also hate Cold for making me go into the ghost house, but that’s beside the point.) After Cold and I ran out of the kitchen, the ghost chased us through several rooms and to the basement stairs. We exchanged a brief look and ran down the stairs into the basement.  

“If that bloody ghost follows us, I’m gonna be as mad as a cut snake,” I said. I was tired of all the running, tired of risking my life, and even more tired of not getting to eat my chips.

“I think he’s stopped chasing us,” Cold said as he looked around. Then he gasped.

“What is it?” I demanded. Cripes, I need a coolie , I thought.

“The Mirror Masters...at least one of them left their Mirror Gun here. It’s their only way back into our dimension. They’d never leave it here.”

“Well, if they’ve carked it, there’s nothin’ we can do. Let’s take our loot and leave this spooky place before another ghost shows up!” I said. I thought that I’d made a good point, but Cold disagreed and punched me in the face.

“We don’t  have any proof that they’re dead, so we’re goin’ in after them. They’re too valuable to lose, and besides, the Rogues don’t abandon their own,” he said. Cold activated the portal to the Mirror Realm and dragged me inside by the scarf. As soon as I got inside, I had a sickie and vomited all over the floor.  

“Scudder? McCulloch? It’s Cold. Where are you?” Cold yelled. No answer.  I stopped vomiting and looked around, then noticed something shiny. I went over to it and discovered that it was an emerald ring.

“Cold, have a Captain Cook at this! We’re rich!” I exclaimed. Cold looked at it...and went pale.

“Oh, no….one of the Mirror Masters must have been spooked by something and dropped it-and if they ran that way and were so panicked that they didn’t notice that they dropped a valuable thing like that, then they’re lost in the Mirror Realm,”  he said.

“Okay. They’ve carked it. Oh, well. Let’s go home,”  I replied. Cold shook his head.

“No. We’re gonna find them,” he said.

“Cold, you just said that they were lost in the Mirror Realm. If THEY got lost, we’ll get lost, too,” I protested. Cold didn’t listen.

“We ain’t gonna get lost, because we’re going to make a trail to follow,” he said. He drew one the spoons out of the bag and placed it on the ground next to his feet. Then he moved about ten feet forward and did the same thing, and did it again about seven feet after that. He’s got kangaroos loose in his top paddock for sure, I thought.

“What are you doin’, Cold?”  I demanded.

“I’m making a trail,” he said.

“Outta  spoons ?” I asked.

“Didn’t you ever hear the story of Hansel and Gretel?”

“I don’t read fairy tales. They’re for wusses,” I said.  Cold scowled.

“Look, I have  a little sister, okay? Anyway, Hansel and Gretel didn’t want to get lost in the woods, so they used bread crumbs to mark where they’d been. That way, when they turned around, they’d know which way would take them back to their starting point. This is the same idea, only our markers can’t be eaten by anything,” he said. With that, he started dragging me by my scarf towards the direction he thought the Mirror Masters had taken.

“You know, I can walk on my own,” I said.

“ Maybe so, but if I let you go, you’ll probably  be walking towards the exit, so I’m keeping ahold of you to be on the safe side,” Cold replied. I stuck my tongue out at him, but he ignored it.  After about twenty minutes of walking, we entered the weirdest place I’d ever seen. There were all these bloody weird shapes and colors, and I couldn't tell which way was up. It freaked me out, but for some reason, it didn’t seem to bother Cold at all.

“Cold, this is really freaky. Can we go back now? We’ll never find the Mirror Masters in this crazy place,” I said.

“Shut up, Digger. We are going to find them, and we are not going to stop walking until we either do or run out of silverware,” Cold replied.

“Ace!” I muttered sarcastically.

“What was that?”

“Nothin’,” I lied.

“That’s what I thought.” He dragged me along for about ten more minutes before I opened my big mouth again. (I think that must be some kind of record.)

“Can we stop now ?”  My legs were killing me (not to mention my neck)!

“No. Stop acting like a six-year-old,” Cold replied.  I really need a coolie, i thought.  

“I wouldn’t be actin’ like an anklebiter if you weren’t actin’ like a dictator,” I snapped. Cold punched me in the side and continued to drag me along like a bloody kelpie. After about four more minutes, i decided that I’d had enough of being dragged around and stabbed Cold in the arm with one of my razor-sharp boomerangs. He swore in pain and let me go, and I grabbed the mirror gun and ran towards the exit. Sadly for me, Cold managed to bean me over the head with a plate and knocked me out. When I came to, I awoke to see a pair of unconscious Mirror Masters. Normally, I would’ve been crosser than a frog in a sock that Cold had knocked me out, but at the moment I was too glad that Cold wouldn’t be dragging me through the Mirror Realm anymore to really care.

“You little Ripper! You found them!” I exclaimed happily.

“No thanks to you,” Cold muttered. He shook McCulloch awake.

“Cold? How did ye get in here?” he asked.

“Either you or Sam dropped your Mirror Gun outside of the mirror in the basement, and I used it to get in here,” Cold explained.

“But how did ye find us?”

“Stubbornness, mainly,” Cold replied. I laughed.

“That’d be right!”  I exclaimed. Cold looked at McCulloch oddly.

“Why is Sam sleeping in your lap?” Cold asked.

“ WHAT? ” McCulloch yelled. He quickly moved Sam off his lap and stood up. This woke Sam up, for obvious reasons. Once he realized what had happened, he noticed Cold, gave him a huge hug, and then punched him in the face.

“I’m...getting some mixed messages here,” Cold said.

“I’m happy you found us, because I thought we were going to die here, but I’m about equally angry at you, because you wouldn’t have had to rescue us if you hadn’t decided to take us to the creepy ghost house in the first place,” Sam explained. I laughed. It’s always good to see Cold get taken down a peg, the arrogant knocker.

“I do nae see why you  being here is a good thing. We do nae ken  how to get back to the Mirror Portals from here, we’ll all die here,”  McCulloch said.

“Actually, we won’t. I marked the path we took from the portals with our loot, so we’ll able to get back fine,” Cold replied.  McCulloch grinned, and my stomach growled.

“Can we go home now? I’m hungry,” I asked.

“Ye and me both, Digger,” McCulloch said. Cold nodded.

“Let’s get back to our reality,” he said. With that, we started the long walkabout back to the Mirror Portals.

Top: My nap lasted precisely twenty-five minutes and fifteen seconds. Then I awoke to see Lisa crying quietly. Normally, I would have felt  horrible upon seeing such a sight, but  at the time, I simply felt disgusted.

"Stop sniveling, you piece of gutter trash. I will  not be moved by your feminine wiles,”  I spat. (I have since apologized profusely for this comment, and for all others made under the influence of the ghost, but my darling Lisa is still distrustful of me, and her brother would have beat me to within an inch of my life for them  had she not stopped him.)

“All right. I WILL stop crying. I should have known better than to show weakness in front of a man who’s just like my father,” she replied angrily. If I had been myself, I would have been horrified by this accusation, but as I was, I merely sniffed dismissively.

“I am nothing like your father. He was an alcoholic boor who lived off of welfare for most of his life, and I am a gentleman,”  I said haughtily.

“And yet you’re calling me names just like he did,” Lisa replied. (In hindsight, her self-confidence was quite admirable, but at the time, I found it irritating.)

“Shut your mouth!” I snapped, unable to refute her argument.

“And let you walk all over me? I don’t think so,” Lisa said. Furious, I raised my hand to slap her, but thankfully, the Civil War-era ghost interrupted us before I could. Lisa grabbed me and pulled me out of the room before the ghost began to levitate anything, thereby saving my life for the third time that night.

“I told you not to touch me!” I said icily. In response, Lisa kissed me on the cheek and I pulled away sharply in utter disgust. (I believe that she was trying to make me uncomfortable in an attempt to snap me back to my senses.)

“I just saved your life again , and you want to complain about me touching you? AGAIN?” she yelled.

“I was aware that we were in danger. There was no need for you to touch me,” I replied coldly. The ghost drifted out of the bedroom we had  been in, and  the two of us ran to the stairs-only to find that one of the steps had collapsed. Lisa sighed and slid  down the banister to the bottom of the stairs, and I reluctantly followed her when the ghost appeared behind me and it became apparent that there was no other means of escape. (We were able to keep our balance because my darling Lisa was a figure skater and I am very resistant to vertigo.) We ran back through the dining room and back into the backyard, and were greeted by a most unusual sight. The ghost who had kissed me was holding hands with another ghost, this one with a noose around his neck.

“Oh, darling, you’re back!” she cooed. The other ghost kissed her.

“Yes, and I’ll never leave you again. I’m so sorry that I abandoned you all those years ago. My father was wrong: you were more important than our money ever could have been,”  he said.

‘I forgive you, Robert,”  she replied. Lisa started to cry again.

“Oh, shut up, you sniveling hussy! You are too far beneath me to deserve my sympathy,” I said harshly. Lisa frowned  and dried her tears rather angrily, then elbowed me in the side.

“Where have you been, Robert?”  the  female ghost asked.

“I don’t know. All I remember before seeing you tonight was a lot of anger at something,” the other ghost replied. The female ghost embraced him.

“Oh, well, you’re here now. That’s all that matters,”  she said. They kissed again, and then the female ghost noticed us and frowned.

“Are you the lovers?”  she asked.

“Formerly. I thank you profusely for showing me my folly,”  I said. Lisa nodded sadly.

“Why do you want to know? You can’t possibly make me any more miserable,” she said. The ghost smiled.  

“Because I am going to show you both mercy. Since my happiness has been restored, I will restore your happiness,” she said. She kissed me once again, and all my love for Lisa came flowing back-as did a crushing sense of guilt.

“My darling, I am so sorry for what I said. I don’t know what came over me, but I swear to you that  I do not care how rich you are. You are a goddess, and I adore you. Please, please forgive me,” I pleaded. I felt like an utter cad. Lisa frowned.

“R-Roscoe?” she asked nervously.

“Yes, sweetums,”  I said. I tried to kiss her, but she pulled away.

“Don’t , Roscoe. After what you said to me tonight, I just don’t trust you. How can I be sure that you aren’t saying you don’t care that I’m “gutter trash” only because of your hormones? What if two or three years down the line, you don’t find me attractive anymore? Will you still love me, or will I suddenly become a “welfare queen” again? I still love you, but I can’t trust you anymore,” she asked

“You...you are breaking up with me?”  I was heartbroken and rather tempted to attack the ghost (if that was even possible), but I could not really blame her.

“I’m not sure. Let’s call it a vacation,”  she replied quietly. There was an awkward pause, and then I said,

“In that case, since our date is off, perhaps we should go to the front lawn and wait for the Mirror Masters to take us back to our hideout.”  Lisa nodded, and we left the backyard, walked quickly through the house, and made it to the front lawn of the house without issue. Upon arriving, we saw Mark curled up on the lawn, fast asleep, Mick napping in little more than his underwear ( a sight that will haunt me until my dying day), and James and Piper blowing bubble gum. James waved at us.

“Hi there, lovebirds! How was your date?’ If there is one thing that James is the master of, it is saying things at the most inopportune times.

“Badly,”  Lisa replied. With that, she left my side and sat down next to Mick. James looked at me quizzically.

“It is a very long story that is frankly none of your business,”  I told him. I walked a few feet away from him, sat down, and buried my head in my hands, ashamed of what I had done to the one person in my life I ever cared for. Apparently, I dozed off at some point, because the next thing I remember was the two Mirror Masters arriving alongside Digger and Leonard.

“Look alive, everyone! We’re moving out!” he barked. Five minutes later, we were all back in our hideout (thanks to the Mirror Masters). Lisa immediately ran over to her brother and started sobbing. My stomach twisted with guilt and I looked away.

“Shhh..shh...shhh..Sis, what happened?”  In response, Lisa told him the whole story through hiccups and sobs. When she was finished, Leonard marched over to me.

“ Is this true, Dillon?” he demanded.

“Sadly, yes,”  I replied awkwardly. In response, Cold punched me so hard he knocked me to the ground.

“Then you’re gonna wish you’d never been born. NO ONE hurts my baby sister,”  he snarled. He moved to hit me again, but before he could, Lisa ran over to him and grabbed his arm.

“Lenny, don’ t!  He was under the influence of a ghost!  It wasn’t all his fault,” she said. Cold scowled, but he walked away anyway as Lisa helped me back to my feet.  

“Are you alright?” she asked.

“Better than I should be after treating you so terribly,”  I replied.

“It’s good to to have you back, Roscoe,” she said.

“Does this mean that  we’re back on?” I asked eagerly.

“No, Roscoe, I’m afraid not. It’ll  probably be awhile before I feel comfortable around you again,” she said. She left me and went upstairs, and I was left to mentally berate myself for my idiocy.

Mirror Master I: And...that was basically it. We managed to get home alive from the creepy ghost house, everyone changed out of their costumes, and most of us, exhausted, went to bed (except James and Piper, who decided to watch The Shining for some reason.) The next morning, Trickster went to the hospital to get his broken ankle treated, and the rest of us decided to never, ever go to any house that was supposed to be haunted again. A week later, the Flash caught Len trying to fence his loot, so he’s in prison again. Lisa still hasn’t forgiven Roscoe, and James’s ankle is still very broken, but otherwise, things are pretty much back to normal for us Rogues. So, with that in mind-we would like to wish you all a Happy Halloween!- What James said.

FIN

[girls-scenarios]

Hi! List 3 prompt 1 with Gowon? Thanks 😊

Loona’s Go Won / Halloween Prompts

1. super cheap new home turns out to be haunted but the ghost is actually kind of cool and we’re essentially roommates now

Admin Kiwi

You probably should have guessed that getting such a deal on a house came with consequences. But at first, nothing had happened, lulling you into a false sense of security. Then, one night, you woke up to see a woman standing at the end of your bed.

Obviously, you freaked out, screaming as you tumbled out of your bed, legs tangled in the sheets. But she didn’t try to run after you or eat your soul, like you were sure she was going to do. Instead, she began to laugh, falling back onto the floor and pointing at you.

“Seriously, that never gets old!” Her voice was high-pitched, and she fell through the floor before re-appearing, floating near the foot of your bed with a grin. “Hey, I’m Gowon.”

“Am I dreaming?” You asked, dazed, your heart beating hard in your chest and your legs and palms burning where you’d fallen. Were you seriously talking to a ghost? This wasn’t happening, right?

“Nope. And yes, you’re seriously talking to a ghost.” She nodded her ghostly head, and you realized that you could see her. You let out another scream, feeling faint, and she winced, raising her hands. “Hey, hey! That’s enough, my ears are sensitive! Listen, I’m not trying to hurt you! Actually, I don’t think I can even touch you.”

“W-who. How?” You couldn’t form a sentence, head spinning. You felt like you might pass out, stomach turning.

“I’m Gowon, like you said. I’m stuck living in this house so you can’t get rid of me.” She started to float in the air, crossing her legs. “And I don’t know how. But for some reason, once someone starts to live here, they can see and speak to me. Maybe the place is cursed or something.” She floated closer, and it was then that you realized she was wearing older-looking clothes. Then you noticed that her face was only inches from your own.

You let out another scream, and didn’t hear what she said afterwards, your body slumping backwards.

-

The next morning, you woke up with a headache back in your bed. For a moment, you blinked at the ceiling and wondered if it had all been a dream. But then you pulled down your blankets and saw the bruises on your legs, and your stomach twisted. It hadn’t been a dream.

“Oh, you’re awake!” Her high-pitched voice sounded from right behind you, and you let out another scream, falling forward and clutching at your chest as you looked behind you. She was halfway through the wall and she frowned as she stepped into the room the rest of the way. “You’re gonna have to stop doing that.”

“Don’t scare me like that!” You gasped for breath, your heart pounding, trying to wrap your head around the situation. “So you weren’t a dream.”

“Nope. I’m super duper real.” She crossed her arms, looking a little offended. “I thought last night would make you realize that.”

“Do you usually introduce yourself to people when they’re half asleep?”

“Yeah, it’s more fun that way.”

Sighing, you shook your head. So you had a ghost. You could deal with this. At least she wasn’t scary. In fact, she was probably the least intimidating thing you’d ever seen. She was blond with big eyes and a lopsided smile, not to mention tiny with a slightly squeaky voice. There was nothing scary about her.

“So, uh. Why are you stuck here?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I used to live here, a long time ago. And then one night, I went to sleep and woke up like this. I guess I died or whatever.”

“You don’t sound very upset.”

“I’ve had a long time to get used to it.”

Narrowing your eyes, you took in her outfit again. She was wearing what looked like a green prairie dress, but you knew this house wasn’t that old. “When did you live here?”

“In the 80′s.”

“Then why are you wearing that dress?”

She looked down, like she’d only just realized what she was wearing. “I…. Have no idea. Wait, is this what I was buried in? My mom has no sense of fashion! This thing is so ugly!”

“Uh. So did you not know you were wearing that?”

“I can’t exactly look in mirrors.”

“Oh. Right.”

“Hey.” She moved closer to you, raising her eyebrows. “You never told me your name. If we’re going to be roommates, I gotta know what to call you.”

“I’m (Y/N),” you said, before hoping that this wasn’t some voodoo curse that would give her your soul or whatever.

“(Y/N). That’s cool. That’s chill. Welcome to the house, (Y/N)!” She said it with a grin, like you weren’t currently questioning everything you knew about reality. With a sigh, you ran your fingers through your hair and tried your best not to scream out of frustration.

“Thanks, Gowon.”

-

At first, you’d thought about moving out. Getting the hell out of there was the obvious solution. But you had nowhere else to go, and you’d already put everything into this place. You didn’t have the money to pack up and find another place, so moving wasn’t possible. Then, you thought about trying to cleanse the place, before deciding that you were overreacting and that likely wouldn’t do anything, considering that Gowon was a ghost, not a demon.

So you didn’t have much of a choice. Just like Gowon had said, you were stuck with her.

-

“So Gowon, I’ve been wondering about something.”

The ghost girl looked down at you from where she was perched on the ceiling. If you didn’t know better, she’d be scary. “Shoot.”

“Why do you speak, like, modern English? If you died in the eighties, shouldn’t you use slang from that time?”

“Lots of people have lived here since then, you know,” she said, slowly floating down on her back. “And I listen to the TV and radio a lot, so I know all the modern stuff. It’s not like I’m from a different century or anything.”

“So it’s you who’s been running up the electricity bill! I thought I heard the TV on the other night!” You turned to her with an accusatory glare, and she made a face of indifference, raising her arms like she always did when you accused her of something.

“I get bored! Ghosts don’t really sleep, so I watch TV to pass the time. You’d get bored if you were a ghost for decades too!” She had a point, even if you didn’t want to admit it.

“Fine, you can watch TV.”

“I’d do it anyways.”

“As I was saying.” You gave her another look. “You can watch TV but stop turning the lights on and off. It’s running up my electricity bill up and I can’t afford that. You don’t need lights anyway.”

With her face half-out of the coffee table, she made a face, scrunching up her nose and lifting up her lips slightly. “I’m afraid of the dark.”

“Oh, shut up!”

-

Gowon ended up not being a bad roommate. She was pretty chill, considering she couldn’t eat any of the food and she never cared to turn on the water unless she wanted attention. She couldn’t use your things, either, so most of the bad things about having a roommate weren’t applicable to her. Sure, sometimes she’d get bored and try to scare your friends (who couldn’t see her) by turning things on and off or walking through them, and she could be a pest if she wanted your attention, but she wasn’t bad.

And it was nice to have someone to talk to after long days at work, or when you were having a hard time. If you felt down, Gowon could usually make you laugh with her antics. Her dances were always funny, and she knew about all kinds of weird channels on TV and weird shows online. She would also sometimes make you laugh by sticking her head out from the TV or doing any other assortment of things with her ghost body. You’d never expected to have a ghost roommate, but there you were. And you found you actually liked it.

-

“You know, no one’s ever stayed around this long,” Gowon said one day as the two of you sat on the couch watching TV. She was more floating above the couch, really, but she was there beside you regardless, and when you turned to look at her, she was staring at the TV with a distant look in her eyes.

“You mean, in this house?”

“Yeah, they always get freaked out and leave. It was pretty boring until you came.” She put her chin on her hand. “I to talk to myself. It’s a dumb way to spend a decade or two.”

“Well,” you said after a moment of thinking. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Really?” She perked up and turned towards you, and you couldn’t help but smile.

“Really. Other than your habit of running up the electricity bill, you’re a pretty good roommate. I like living with you.”

“(Y/N)!” She threw her arms around you, except all you felt was a cold chill. Still, it didn’t make you scared like it might have months ago. Now, it just made you laugh as she grinned and floated up happily above your head, doing a little fist-pump. “Awesome! I made a friend!”

Your first interaction to her hadn’t been the best and admittedly, you’d been afraid of her at first, but you still didn’t regret buying the house. Gowon was harmless and funny and you’d come to like her. Plus, who else could say that they were friends with the ghost that lived in their house?

[chickwiththepurpleguitar]

reggie &or/ alex stargazing?

Okay I’m ngl I’m not sure how I feel about this one... it definitely got away from me lol. But hopefully you like it. Julie/Luke/Reggie, technically a part two to this, though you can read this as a standalone just fine. The movie they watch is supposed to be Professor Marston and the Wonder Women, about the polyamorous creator of Wonder Woman! Enjoy, friend!

--

It was hard enough to see the stars above L.A. in the 80s and 90s. In 2020, it’s damn near impossible. But Reggie’s trying anyway, lying on his back on the roof of the studio and gazing at the cloudy summer sky, because the only other option was third-wheeling Luke and Julie’s movie night.

Reggie’s come to realize a few things about himself recently, about what he wants and whom he loves. Some days are easier than others, when Luke’s arm around his shoulders or Julie’s fondly amused smile are enough, and he can just bask in the warmth of their (platonic) affection, and the fluttering they set off in his heart makes him feel like he’s floating. Other days, all he can see is how they look at each other with so much love in their eyes, and Luke’s touch feels reluctant, and Julie’s smile feels pitying, and Reggie pines so stupidly hard that he hates himself a little bit for it.

Tonight’s one of the second kind. Luke and Julie invited him to watch some superhero movie with them, even saved a space on the couch for him, but when Reggie poofed into the studio and saw them all cuddled up together, Luke’s arm around Julie’s shoulders and Julie giggling into Luke’s chest, Reggie had just felt so sad that he could never be a part of that—not envious, really, he’s happy for them, of course he is, but just… lonely—that it made his heart hurt, so he mumbled some excuse and poofed out again.

So now he’s up on the roof, stargazing even though he can’t see the stars, while Luke and Julie get their cuddle on inside, and he’s trying to be happy for them, and he’s trying not to hate himself, but it’s hard to focus on the good things in life when he can’t even see the stars.

Next to him, there’s the little displacement of air that signifies a ghost poofing in, and Reggie tenses, mind racing to come up with a lie if Luke asks him what he’s doing up here. But it’s not Luke. It’s Alex, and the second he appears, he lies down next to Reggie with his arms folded behind his head, staring up at the night sky.

Reggie slowly relaxes, settling back down into his comfortable position. He doesn’t say anything, and neither does Alex, and usually Reggie’s not a huge fan of silence, but right now he kind of appreciates just having his friend there next to him, not trying to push him to talk about anything but just letting Reggie know he’s not alone.

It’s been a while since they’ve had a chance to hang out, just him and Alex. It’s nice. It eases some of the tightness in Reggie’s chest.

The silence only lasts a few minutes, though, before Alex says, “So.”

Reggie tenses again. “So…” he echoes cautiously, and then barrels on before Alex has a chance to, “How’s Willie?”

Alex glances at him, eyebrow raised, but allows, “They’re good.”

“And you? How—how are you doing?”

“I’m good…” Alex frowns at him. “What about you, Reg?”

“Me?” Reggie’s aware his voice is too high-pitched, unconvincing, but he can’t help it. “I’m—I’m great, dude. Awesome, even! Why, uh, wh-why do you—why do you ask?” He winces. That’s sure likely to throw Alex off his scent. God, could he be any worse at this?

Alex sits up, pressing his hands into his lap, his expression soft, unthreatening, but undeniably concerned (it makes Reggie cringe). “Reggie… You’ve been acting weird since the Farmers’ Market. Even Willie’s noticed, and he doesn’t even know you that well. Plus…” Alex looks down, trailing a hand against the roof like he wants to reach through the tile into the studio below. When he looks back up, his eyes are hooded, hesitant, worried and sad. “Reg, Luke and Julie think you’re mad at them.”

“What?” Reggie goes cold all over and sits up, too, and something painful tugs in his chest, like the rollercoaster-drop feeling he gets right before he poofs, but he doesn’t let himself follow it, he digs his fingers into his thighs and forces himself to stay right where he is. “No, I didn’t—I’m not—why would they think that?”

“Because you’re avoiding them?” Alex points out. “They wanted to hang out with you but instead you’re hiding up here.”

“I’m not hiding,” Reggie starts to say, but Alex gives him a Look and his words trail off because yeah, okay, no, he’s definitely hiding. He swallows, fiddles with his hands in his lap, mumbles, “I didn’t want to interrupt their date.”

He feels more than sees Alex roll his eyes. “It’s not a date if they wanted you to be there.”

Reggie just shakes his head, still staring down at his lap. His throat feels tight, and his eyes start to well up with tears. “I love them, Alex.” His voice sounds thick and distant to his own ears. “I just love them so much, and I want them to be happy, but I don’t want them to pity me because I’m the only one of us who doesn’t have someone, but I also don’t want to sit there and watch them be together because it hurts and I just—I just want—”

“You want to be with them,” Alex finishes, and Reggie nods, tears spilling down his cheeks before he can stop them. “Aw, Reg. Come here.”

Reggie doesn’t even wait for Alex to open his arms all the way before he throws himself into them, crying and shaking and knotting his fingers desperately into the soft, reassuring fabric of Alex’s hoodie. For a few long minutes, Alex just holds him while Reggie cries, rubbing soothing circles into his back and gently hushing him until his sobs finally quiet.

“Hey, Reg?” Alex murmurs once Reggie’s no longer really crying but just sniffling into Alex’s shirt. Alex strokes Reggie’s hair out of his face, guiding Reggie’s head back to look up at him. “Do you remember, way back in like, 1993, when I was dumb and repressed and had a crush on Luke of all people but was too terrified to say anything to him about it, do you remember what you said to me?”

Reggie frowns, trying to think back all those years as he sits back out of Alex’s grip and scrubs at his face. “Um… ‘You’re not special. Everyone has a crush on Luke’?”

“Okay, not that.” Alex rolls his eyes, and just the casual familiarity of the gesture makes Reggie smile before Alex’s expression turns serious again. “You said that even if Luke rejected me, nothing could possibly hurt worse than keeping such a huge secret from him did. You said I’d feel better if at least he knew. And eventually, you were right. Do you remember that?”

“Yeah, maybe.”

Alex taps the roof meaningfully. “They’re waiting for you, Reg. Go talk to them. You’ll feel better once they know.”

When Reggie poofs into the studio, all his fears and worries (and the speech he’s been mentally throwing together) instantly fly out of his head because Julie’s wrapped in Luke’s arms and she’s crying.

“Jules?” Reggie rushes over to the sofa and drops into a crouch, bracing one hand on Luke’s knee and reaching up the other to cup Julie’s tear-stained cheek. “Jules, I’m so sorry, I didn’t—Alex said—I’m not mad at you. Please don’t cry.”

Julie and Luke both grab for him, pulling him into a tight group hug, and Reggie can’t help a little oof of surprise from escaping his mouth. Once the initial shock fades, though, Reggie lets himself relax into his best friends’ holds, his own earlier tears now completely forgotten in favor of soothing Julie’s.

“We’re so sorry, Reg,” Luke murmurs, pressing his lips to the top of Reggie’s head. “We never meant to—to scare you away, or—or make you think we didn’t want you right here with us all the time, okay?”

“Stay with us, please,” Julie says, still sort of teary but no longer actively crying. “Be with us, Reggie. We want you.”

Reggie pulls back just enough to be able to look up at both of them, staring back at him with a little hesitance, maybe, a little nervousness, but no hint of insincerity, nothing to so much as suggest that they’re lying or making fun of him.

“Seriously?” he asks anyway, still just needing to make sure. “You mean, like, with you, with you, right? As… as more than friends?”

Luke smiles at him, ruffles his hair. “Yeah, Reg. That’s what we mean.”

Five minutes later, Reggie’s snuggled up on the couch between Luke and Julie, feeling more loved and happy than he has his whole life. They watch a movie about three people in a relationship (“It was gonna be how we told you, before you ran out on us, you dork,” Luke teases) and it’s so much better than sitting alone (or with Alex) on the roof, watching the stars.   

--

Taglist: @whenweremarried @sunsethimb0s @pink-flame @penguin0613 @fighttoshine @sunsetcurvecuddles @nickalicious @reggiescrookedteeth @brightattheorpheum @queenmolina @spidergirl0325 @jandthephantoms @lexilucacia @sapphossidechick @acnhaddict @cest-la-vie-de-la-lee @sunset-bobby @lenacarstairspotterstewart @moreflowersthanweeds @conversationaltreestump @burntchromas @shellydominique 

[slutforgoodliterature]

Bucky x Reader - Then what are you waiting for?

Prompt: You and Bucky have been playing this game and ‘who’s gonna make the first move’ for ages now, and finally he grows some balls.

Warnings: smut, (semi) public foreplay, dirty talk, light dom/sub tones

It was a Friday night, and somehow you ended up at some high-class club in the middle of Vienna. You and the team had been tailing this sleazy human trafficker for days now, and you finally managed to corner him in Klub Indigo. 

And you were the bait.

“Y/N, at your 10 o’clock.” Steve’s voice came over the tiny intercom in your ear that was hidden in the voluminous waves of your hair. Subtly, you shifted your dancing body to locate Vinz Ratmayr, the asshole who was responsible for at least a dozen deaths of young women, in the last few weeks alone. 

Fighting back the urge to rush him and stomp his head into the ground, you met his eyes through lowered lashes and seductively bit your lip. He reacted as well as you’d all hoped, and with a cocky smirk, he stalked over to where you were swaying your hips to the beat. 

“Hook, line and sinker.” You muttered as you twirled, your arms raised above your head and your hair cascading down your back. You felt the warmth of another body behind you and fingers caress your waist. Pretending you didn’t want to break each of his fingers one by one was difficult, but you managed to keep your seductive smirk painted on as you turned in his grasp and run your hands up and down his chest. 

Apparently, you weren’t the only one struggling to keep it cool. A low growl in your earpiece followed by a “Down, Bucky” let you know a certain James Buchanan Barnes was barely holding himself back from storming onto the floor and taking the guy out with his bare hands.

After several minutes of dancing (if you could call very one-sided grinding ‘dancing’) your target leant down to mutter into your ear. 

“Lass uns hier raus.” Let’s gett outta here. 

You nodded enthusiastically, beyond eager to get this show on the road. 

“Lead him my way.” Clint's voice told you, and you spotted him along a row of balconies to your left. You began to lead Vinz towards the stairs by his hand, but he pulled back, motioning towards the neon green ‘Ausfahrt’ sign. Exit. 

You tried once more to persuade him to follow you up to the stairs, but he tightened his grip and pulled you even harder to the steel door that would lead you out to an alley.

This was not part of the plan.

You sent Clint a worried look before following Vinz reluctantly, scanning the room for your other friends. You made eye contact with an extremely concerned Bucky, whose eyebrows were knitted together and was chewing harshly on his lips.

“Ok, Y/N. Change of plan. Exit to the alley. Wanda will meet you out there and hold him until we get there, ok?” Came Steve’s order, and you nodded your head slightly, knowing he was probably looking at you. 

“I’ve got your back, draga mea.” You had no idea what Bucky had called you, but it warmed your cheeks (and your heart) all the same. 

“As always.” You could hear Natasha’s snide comment even without the earpiece and looked up to see her dancing nonchalantly in front of you. 

You let Vinz lead you out to the alley, where as soon as the door slammed behind you he backed you up against the dirty brick wall and caged you in with your arms. It was a position you had been in many times before, usually with quite a rather temperamental winter soldier, but this had a completely different vibe to it. 

Before Vinz could even say a word, his eyes glowed red and widened. Wanda appeared from behind him, her fingers caressing the air next to his temples and rendering him incapacitated. 

“And... scene.” You could hear Clint’s smirk before you could see it, as he and Bucky came bursting through the Klub door. Bucky immediately rushed to you, scanning your body from head to toe to make sure you weren’t hurt. 

Once he was able to see that you were fine and that there was no immediate danger, he also noticed your tight red dress that clung to your body, leaving very little to the imagination. 

“You did good, kid.” Steve clapped a hand onto your shoulder amicably, but you didn’t miss the narrowing of Bucky’s eyes on his best friend’s hand. 

“Always the tone of surprise.” You rolled your eyes playfully. “Now, why don’t you boys run along with your prize, my dance got interrupted.” You were ecstatic that your hours upon hours of stakeouts were finally over, and decided that you deserved a break. One that included heavy techno music, dancing and a whole lot of alcohol. 

“I’m with Y/N on this one,” Natasha stated as she peeked her head through the Klub door. “See you, fellas, later.” She motioned you to join her and you did so gladly.

“Shouldn’t one of us stay with you?” Bucky spoke up, looking solely at you. “You know, for protection.” 

“You don’t trust me with your girl?” Natasha questioned.

“She’s not my-”

“I’m not his-” You both began, then stopped exasperatedly, releasing that speaking at the same time wasn’t going to do you any favours. 

“Look, you ain’t fooling anyone, but that’s none of my business.” She smirked at you, “Now, are we dancing or what?” She tugged at your arm, but you sent one last look at Bucky.

“You can join if you want...?” You suggested, but he was now looking at the ground, a red tinge on his cheeks.

“Nah, I’m good.” He continued to avoid eye contact with you as he looked at Steve. “Plus, Stevey here could probably use the help.” You nodded and allowed Natasha to pull you into the club, letting yourself be overcome with the heavy pulsing of the club music. 

2 hours, 4 shots and about 80 songs later, Natasha pouted at something over your shoulder. You followed her eyes and saw Bucky and Clint scouring the club. 

“Oh poo, they sent the babysitters.” She whined, ducking her head when they began to look in your direction. You waved enthusiastically at Bucky, whose clenched jaw relaxed a great deal when he finally found you. He gestured at you to go to him, but you laughed and shook your head, beckoning for him to instead come over to you. 

He and Clint shared a few words, after which the dark-haired, blue-eyed and utterly gorgeous Winter Soldier began to awkwardly manoeuvre through the gyrating crowd to you. Natasha, swearing at being found out, began to twirl away from you.

“I’m gonna let you handle this one.” She sent you a knowing wink before disappearing into the throng of bodies. 

“Howdy, partner.” Bucky had to yell over the music to be heard as he reached you, and you immediately slung your arms around his neck and attempted to get him to sway with you.

“Hiya, sarge!” You giggled into his ear, the light buzz of alcohol egging you on. Certainly not enough to be anywhere near drunk, but definitely enough to make you confident enough to call Bucky Sarge. 

And you could tell that name did something to him by the way his back straightened and his hands came up to grip your waist. Tight.

“You ready to go home?” He asked you, his head dipping so his lips could brush against the shell of your ear. You shuddered at the feeling of his breath ghosting your neck. 

“Just getting started.” You shook your head, your voice breathless. He hummed in amusement, letting your hips under his hands guide him in a quick dance. 

“You know, we’ve been doing this dance for a while now.” He mused, his hands dropping dangerously low, sending your stomach into a spiral. 

“But you just got here.” You pointed out. 

“That’s not the dance I’m talking about, and you know it.” He growled into your ear. 

“I’m not quite sure I do.” You whispered back, your fingers playing with the ends of his long hair. 

“You’re playing with fire, iubi.” His fingers dug into the soft flesh of your hips. You arched into his, your bodies becoming flush. 

“Am I?” Your questions were driving him mad, you could tell by the clench of his jaw and the coil of his muscles. 

“Doll, do you have any idea what you do to me?” He groaned, resting his forehead on yours. Your heart began to thump so loud that if it wasn’t for the music, you were certain he’d be able to hear it. 

“Exactly the same as you do to me.” You let out, connecting your eyes with his, watching as they widened at your admission. 

“I wanna kiss you.” He whispered, his tongue darting out along his full lips. 

“Then what are you waiting for?” You breathed, and finally, his lips crashed down onto yours.

You met him with the same amount of force, arching into him as your arms pulled his head down even further, the new angle giving you more power. 

His arms wrapped around your waist as he basically lifted you off the ground. The metal of his right arm dug into your skin, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. 

You brought your hands down to cup his face, the stubble along his jaw scraping your palms deliciously. He pulled back just enough to disconnect your lips but still be breathing the same air. 

“That...was something.” He muttered, his lips red and swollen, as you were sure yours were. 

“That...took way too long.” You laughed lightly, carding your hands through his hair. 

“Sorry ‘bout that.” He winced. 

“Nothing to apologise for, sarge. Not with a kiss like-” His eyebrow raised at your nickname for him and he cut you off with his mouth. This time, there was no competition to see who had the most strength.

He completely dominated you. 

His tongue swiped across your lips sinfully before dancing with your tongue. His lips had an almost bruising force as they captured and sucked your own, sometimes drawing it out in a punishing capture between his teeth. 

You gripped his hair tight, allowing yourself to be swept up in the monsoon that was Bucky Barnes. His hands began to travel lower and lower, soon reaching the hem of your extremely short dress. He began to toy with it, so you ripped your head back.

“Bucky...” You tried to control your breathing, but it was hard as he took this opportunity to place rough kisses down your neck and along your collar bone. 

“Yes, doll?” You barely heard his cocky tone over the music, and his wandering hands were plenty distracting, but you knew that if he didn’t cool off then you were going to be arrested for public indecency. 

“We’re...in...mmm, fuck!...public.” You struggled to grind out as his mouth reached a particularly interesting spot under your ear. You could feel him smirk against your skin and you had to yank his head up by his hair in order to get him to stop the sensuous ministrations he was conducting on your skin. 

“I’ve waited this long to have you like this, moaning my name...” he trailed a metal finger under your dress and along the inside of your thigh, leaving you a trembling mess. “I really don’t give a shit.” He bit his lips seductively and regarded you from hooded eyes. 

You nodded, not really understanding what you were encouraging, but knowing that so help you, god, if he stopped, he would be a dead man. 

His metal fingers brushed against the front of your very lacy and very thing panties, sending shockwaves through you. You gasped and gripped his shoulders, your fingers digging into the flesh of his left shoulder but his metal one giving no leeway. 

He brushed against your core again, this time using the hand on your hip to pull you against him and his cursed fingers in a way that you knew would get you into trouble. You could feel his rock hard length against your abdomen, his hips grinding into you roughly. 

“Surely, just 10 more minutes.” You moaned as his fingers continued to torture the front of your heat, barely applying any pressure. The ghosting of his fingers was sending your nerves alight. 

“I’m not a patient man, draga mea.” He groaned into your ear, his hot breath caressing the side of your neck. 

“I know, I know.” You couldn’t contain the moan that escaped you as he ground you against his clothed manhood, pressing it against you. “But I want it to be perfect, not-”

“In the middle of some club.” He finished for you, resting his head against your forehead as the two of you tried to catch your breath. 

Several minutes and a cab ride full of inappropriate groping later, you and Bucky crashed into his room at the motel. He slammed the door behind him with his foot as he carried you to the bed before dumping you on it.

Not giving you any time to recover, he crawled on top of you, trapping your body beneath his own hulking one. He gripped your hips menacingly and yanked you further down the bed, towards him. You let out a gasp, encircling his waist with your legs and using the leverage to bring him down to you. 

He held himself up by his forearms that were framing your face on the mattress, his heated kissed sending you into a frenzy. Finally, he sat up, pulling off his top and baring his mouthwatering chest to your hungry eyes. 

Using his metal arm, he grabbed the side of your strapless dress and as if it was paper, ripped it straight down the seam. Your mouth dropped as he flung away the offending material.

“I fucking liked that dress, you dick.” You couldn’t believe he’d just done that, but the open-mouthed kissed he was pressing along the top of your bra was making quick work towards his forgiveness. 

“So did I,” He admitted, “But it was in the way.” 

“Cocky bastard.” You muttered, moaning loudly when he ground his stiff member onto your centre roughly.

“That’s cocky.” He smirked and you gripped him by his hair and pulled his face roughly to yours.

“You talk too much, sarge.” You hissed, your still fully clothed parts were bucking against each other, and meeting his lips halfway. He pressed you into the mattress, undoing your bra with only a minor stumble before swiftly ridding you both of the rest of your clothes.

He lay over you, every inch of your skin covered by his own. Your hands caressed his back soothingly as he lined up with your entrance. 

“Wait, I don’t have a-” He began but you shushed him. 

“I’m on the pill.” You assured him.

“Is that the thing you take every morning?” He asked, and it melted your heart that he noticed. You nodded, and his eyes became fully blown with lust.

“In that case...” He entered into you swiftly, making your eyes almost bulge out of their sockets.

“Holy...fuck! Bucky...I...” You struggled to breath normally, your nails digging into his back. He gave you a chance to adjust before pulling back out and thrusting in again. Hard.

He picked a torturously rapid pace and stuck to it, his hips smacking into yours with each push and pull. It was all you could do to not scream out his name at the top of your lungs, and instead bite down hard on your fist. 

“You feel so fucking good, baby. So tight for me.” He groaned, his metal arm stroking the column of your throat delicately. 

“Only for you, Sarge.” You moaned out, arching your back to meet the thrust of his hips. He growled and suddenly gripped your throat with his metal hand.

Not enough to cause any discomfort, but certainly enough that you knew it was there. You loved the feeling of him dominating you, and you could sense you were close to the edge. 

“Are you close, baby? You gonna let go for me?” He gripped the back of your thigh with his other hand and pushed it towards the mattress, testing your flexibility, continuing to thrust into you at a punishing pace.

“I’m close, Bucky.” You let him know, and he somehow sped up his hips. The headboard of the bed was now banging against the wall, so he let go off your throat to grasp it, not only stopping the noise but also giving him new leverage. 

The sight of him above you, his muscles contracting with each movement and his blue eyes boring into yours with such lust and desire sent you over the edge. You cried out his name as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through you, your legs spasming around him.

“That’s it, Y/N, cum for me. Good girl.” He praised, working you through your mindblowing orgasm as he kept fucking you. 

“Holy...shit! Bucky...!” You moaned as he continued his movements, a second-knot building rapidly in your lower stomach. 

His hand reached down and began circling your clit, sending you spiralling into another orgasm, even more intense than the first. His name left your lips like a chant as your legs tightened around his waist. 

“I can’t...ohmygod!” You moaned pornographically as you came down from your high once again. But he still wasn’t done with you. 

“Come one, doll, you got one more in there for me.” He gritted his teeth, shifting your hips up to hit a whole new spot in you. It sent shockwaves up your spine and made your toes curl. 

“Bucky, I don’t know- fuck! I can’t-” Tears were forming at the corners of your eyes at just how good you felt. He reached down and caressed your face soothingly, his flesh fingertips dragging against your cheekbone and your jaw. 

“Yes, you can. And you will.” He whispered against your lips before dipping his tongue into your mouth, mapping out the crevices of your mouth. 

His pace slowed to a slow and sensual one, still reaching places in you, you didn’t even know were possible, but his new speed allowed it to become all the more intimate. 

You reached up a hand and cupped his jaw, your lips moving with his as you could sense him draw closer to his finish. His metal arm left the headboard, it no longer banging, and dropped between the two of you, finding your clit. 

The sharp coolness of the metal against your heat caused you to gasp, which to groaned into. 

“I’m almost there, Buck.” You moaned against his mouth, one hand gripping his hair and the other scraping your nails down his back. The feeling of your nails drawing blood on his back made him groan even louder into you and he applied direct pressure onto your bundle of nerves, sending you over the edge with a scream.

He followed right after you, his hips stuttering as he spilt his seed into you. You both struggled to catch your breath, your foreheads touching and you opened your eyes to find him staring in amazement at you. 

“I adore you.” He stated before pulling out of you and collapsing onto the bed next to you, pulling you almost on top of him. Your heart wouldn’t stop its dance as you snuggled up to him, resting your head against his own erratic heartbeat.

“And I, you.” You said, stifling a yawn, your eyes fluttering closed into a peaceful sleep, finally in the arms of the only man you wanted.